The Long Con

Chapter One

  Eyes are the windows to the soul.

  I call bullshit. The soul is the rawest, most pure form of someone in all of their entirety.
 
Eyes? They're a conman's most valuable asset.
 
  I know what you're thinking. Cynic much? Maybe so, but it's the truth. A woman bats her eyes at a man, he's head over heels. A little tot pouts with a couple of puppy dog eyes, mommy is in the palm of his hand. See somebody crying and your immediate reaction is to help or pity them.
  But body language? That's where it's at. You hang around somebody long enough and you start noticing their habits. Maybe when your nervous you bite your nails. Maybe you glance behind you when you're uncomfortable, or maybe you tap your toes when you're in a good mood.
  Everyone I'd ever met I could read like a book. But him? He was a specimen. I couldn't figure him out, but he had me pegged from the moment we met.

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  I entered through the large double doors, my heels making small taps on the marbled tile underfoot, although the sound was just barely drowned out by the sound of talking, laughing, and classical music. In front of me was a grand staircase that would make a giant feel small.
  My eyes surveyed the ballroom I'd just entered into. It was oozing with elegance and finesse. The ceiling was so high I felt that Icarus himself would melt before he could've reached the top. It was painted with a beautiful scenery, perhaps a depiction from the garden of Eden.
  Oh, right. I thought to myself, realizing I'd become entranced in my thoughts. I felt warmth rise to my cheeks and embarrassment to my chest as I noticed how awkward I must have looked, and then guilt when I realized that it was conceited to assume anyone was looking my way in the first place. I made my way through the crowd of fellow guests as waiters dressed in suits circled the room with hors d'oeuvres and champagne flutes on silver platters. As one of them passed me I took a glass, giving a small thank you before he retreated to tend to other guests. I took a small sip from the glass, feeling particularly out of place. It was like high school all over. Everyone had formed into cliques, talking and laughing amongst themselves and there I was. Alone. I shook the anxious thoughts from my head before I made my way towards the music. There were violins and cellos, and other instruments I couldn't accurately name, although the sounds they made together was beautiful.
  I looked around me once again, this time actually observing the crowd itself. All of the women were wearing fine dresses and gowns and immaculate amounts of jewelry. It made me feel self-conscious about myself, seeing as my dress was a cheap knockoff and any jewelry I wore was fake. I hoped no one could tell the difference. The men were all wearing nice suits, not a wrinkle in sight aside from the ones on most of their faces. As I became distracted with my thoughts again I jumped back to reality when an older man bumped into my shoulder, nearly knocking the glass of champagne from my hand. "Oh, I'm so sorry," I said, rushing the words from my lips, worried that he might be angry. "It's no trouble. My eyes aren't as good as they used to be," He chuckled, filling me with relief. I expected him to throw me out for being in his way. I gave a courteous smile as I moved aside to let him by. As he walked past I felt even more awkward.
   Why am I here, again? I asked myself, having forgotten now from being so distracted. Oh, right! I felt relieved to have remembered my purpose there. The last thing I wanted was to wander around the party all night without a reason to be there. I turned, making my way back towards the entrance, where the staircase was. As I weaved carefully through the crowd, I approached the staircase and stepped up cautiously. I couldn't trust myself in heels.
  Now atop the stairs I padded down a hallway on my left. Only one of the many doors were open and as I approached I tentatively stuck my head in. "Hello?" I chirped, glancing around what looked like a study. "Oh! Evelyn, dear, you came!" A low feminine voice sounded. I smiled when I saw her. She was already waddling her way over to me, arms outstretched to envelop me in an embrace. "Mrs. Beverly," I greeted her in response as she hugged me. Mrs. Beverly was an older woman I'd done housekeeping for, for a short time. She gave me a place to stay and a job when I first moved to California. She'd recently moved and this, of course, was her housewarming party. Her husband had died and she wanted to move a bit closer to her sons. I'd never met them, but she raved about them incessantly. "Shh-shh," She hushed me, bringing a frail index finger to her lips. "It's Ms. Beverly now. I need to get back into the game! I can't have anyone thinking I'm a sad old widow," She joked, giving another smile.
  Her hair was pure white, and although she never told me her (real) age, I estimated her to be somewhere in her late seventies. You could tell that despite her wrinkles she had a beautiful face underneath. She exuded a mama-bear aura, and didn't care who you were- if you had a good heart you might as well have been a baby in her arms.
  "Of course not," I gave a small laugh. I had met her by chance when working as a waitress at a café, barely days after I had moved to California. I'd been couch surfing, staying at one friend's place, then another's. A much older gentleman had been harassing me and a few other waitresses when she flagged me over and ordered a hot black coffee to be sent to his table. Confused, I did so.
  Surely, when he received it he began to scoff and complain that he hadn't ordered it when Mrs. Beverly strides over like a woman on a mission and pours it into his lap, all while myself and the other waitstaff watch with our jaws on the ground. She dusts off her hands and struts back to her seat. "A young lady shouldn't have to be groped or demeaned to make ends meet," She told me, and that's when she offered me the position as a live-in housekeeper. Of course I accepted on the spot. After a few months, her husband died and she couldn't bare staying in the same house. After a short vacation and a new house she was back.
  "How do I look, Evelyn?" Ms. Beverly asks, smiling ear to ear as she twirled around. "I think you could give Queen Elizabeth a run for her money," I replied. She was wearing a long red gown and a sizable diamond necklace. "Good. My sons are coming. I haven't seen them since the funeral. I know they've been worried about me," She said, speaking with sincerity. "I'd like you to meet them. They're very handsome," Ms. Beverly gives me a playful wink. To humor her, I give her a smile and a nod, "Alright."
  Her crystal blue eyes light up in joy, "They'll be here any minute."

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I hope you liked Chapter One of I Need Time! I hope to upload chapters every week. Comment your thoughts and give a like & favorite if you enjoyed and would like more! If you comment questions on my most recent chapters about the story or whatnot, I'll answer in the next chapter if possible! Thanks for taking the time to read! ❤️❤️❤️