Wolf and Hood

5- Cops

Tucked between two glass skyscrapers was a small sanctuary that dampened the blare of city streets. A hideaway for employees during lunch breaks or mental breakdowns. With several iron benches to cry on and a pretty mandala crafted from glass shards, artfully arranged into the concrete. Where one could stare and contemplate the futility of their life.

The hamster-wheel path circled a sputtering stone fountain in the center, and along the walls of the buildings, wooden planter-boxes filled with drooping daisies and yellow peonies waved in the evening breeze; thirsty for a drink. Ally splashed a little vitamin water onto one of the nearest flower boxes- close enough, right? She leaned against the building wall, breathing in the twilight of the city and with it a lung full of Monticristo no.4. A little habit she'd picked up on an impromptu trip to Cuba with her friend, Mina.

Smoking her cigar, she watched the puffs rise between the endless skyscrapers that reflected the setting sun in soft hues of orange and bubblegum pink. The notes of cedar and spice lingered on her tongue, calming her, as she contemplated all the ways to make murder look like an accident. Poisoning his coffee seemed like a proper start.

There is no way in hell I'm working with that man. He's just... just. She didn't have the words. From his smooth talking voice to his stupid smile and swagger, Ally hated everything that was Vincent Wolf. She suspected he was the wily sort of man who knew exactly what tools he'd been gifted, and used them to prey on foolish women-which she was not. But most of all, she hated how she'd had to crane her neck to look up at him like he was some bloody giraffe.

... I should ask Mina for a pair of taller heels.

Her friend's closet was practically a boutique of new season trends and brand names. Perks of being a model. Plus, conveniently, they shared the same size-seven feet. Of course, Ally could just go grab a pair herself. New York fashion was literally around every corner, but she hated shopping. Hated the crowded check-outs and flashy signs, telling her she needed this to feel better, or that to look better. She blamed her grandmother for dragging her around on enough shopping sprees as a child to last a lifetime. Elenor called it therapy - Ally called it torture-and thus most of her wardrobe was bought online.

She dragged a bigger puff between her teeth. Mind still reeling in mortification at her earlier actions in the office and the way she'd let him under her skin.

Stupid. You're better than this. You can do better. You're a professional.

When her little pep talk didn't make her feel any better, she took another drag and pulled out her phone. Her boyfriend Matt was still working nights, so she texted the one friend who could turn her frown upside down.

'Hey wanna grab a drink tonight?'

She heard a ding from her phone not a second later, reading the response from Mina. 'Please! Meet at Caesars for 9? I need to vent!'