✴Isabella Marciano✴
The flight to Sacramento was long, dreadful, and annoying as hell.
My family owns an airline company, a legal one and I'm used to flying first class if not on our private jet. Flying in economy class was fine, I got used to it since I was forced to live as Red. What I hate about this class is when the people seated close to me only think about themselves, get what I mean? The guy who was occupying these opposite beside me was laughing loudly because of the movie he was watching on his phone. I mean, come on. He's not the only person inside the plane. It's a commercial plane for crying out loud. And the worst part was, he puked on a paper bag. He fúcking threw up because he can't stop shoving food in his mouth!
At last, the plane landed. I've never been happier to see the tarmac and get the hell away from the puke boy. Ew...
I waited for my luggage to show itself, it's easy to spot because of its bright orange color.
Being born in a wealthy family has its perks, but when you have been stripped away of the luxury, if you're forced to leave everything behind and become poor - the kind that you don't even know if you'll be able to eat your next meal, the kind that landlords pound at your apartment door at three in the morning to kick you out of his property for not being able to pay three months rent - that perk becomes a curse. Once you have the taste of luxury, you'll crave for it and that's what happened to me.
I love branded commodities, from my clothes to my shoes, accessories, and bag, everything designer is my weak spot. It became one of my addictions that even after I was forced to live as Red, I still crave for them.
That's why I worked hard for the luxury I have today and become smart with the money I was earning from these crazy rich wives of cheating husbands. I have fifteen offshore accounts that only I know about. If somehow, in the future, I'd be forced to leave everything again, I won't be as poor as a rat.
I rode a cab to my hotel room and started to execute my plan. Don't get me wrong, it's not like I'm excited to kill my target - in this case, cut off his d!ck. I hate getting blood in my hand so I usually use sniper rifles but in this case, I need to be creative.
John was always about getting information and the planning is mine and so is the execution.
A few hours later, I'm now entering a strip club dresses in my black spaghetti strap
bodycon lace-up tank mini club dress. My red hair was hidden under my black shoulder-length wig with bangs that hid my eyes. I also applied thick makeup tonight that will surely hide my face.
It's my target's birthday today, he and his office mates are here in this club to celebrate tonight but I have a better gift for him.
Ahh… Almost all heads twist in my direction… Good. That's my aim - to get everyone's attention.
I was a modest and closed off girl when I was still Isabella Marciano. I have my best friend, my family and I'm okay with that. When I died, I had to find a way to feel something again and that gave birth to Red. The spontaneous party goer chick with a body to die for and men grovel on their feet for her.
''Wet pússy!'' I winked at the bartender who gave me a toothy grin. He was younger than I, jet black hair combed back to perfection, dark brown eyes, thin lips and round-shaped jaw, few inks of artistic design peeked out on his all-black uniform, but the way he moved behind the bar, the way he mixed the drink in his hands with confidence and elegance tells me that he's experienced about his craft. He placed the shot glasses in front of me containing pink liquid. I took both of the shots and placed a fifty-dollar bill under the crystal glass. I waited for a few seconds before he placed a blue cocktail drink in front of me.
''D!ck sucker'' the young bartender announced ''courtesy of Mr. Kyanós" he handed me a blue card with only a number written in elusive script.
No matter how much I love the attention given to me, I still keep in mind never to take a drink from strangers. I stirred the blue drink on the glass and waited for my target to come in sight. My informant was positive that they'd be here tonight but It's already eleven in the evening and still no sign of him.
I glanced around the strip club, immediately feeling sick at how this man-whores drink to oblivion. Girls wearing close to nothing were dancing on the stage and men shamelessly gawk at them as if their eyeballs would pop out.
Midnight came and a few more glass of colorful drink was placed by the young bartender in front of me, still no sign of Luis Martinez. Guess his d!ck would still be connected to his body until tomorrow then. It lives to see another day.
I walked out of the club and waited for my uber by the curve. I wore my black trench coat and pulled it closer to my body after notifying John about my failed mission. We might not be on talking terms but I still have to check in with him and vice versa. So he'll know where to start looking for me if I'd gone missing.
Being ready is not being paranoid. It's just a safety precaution in this messed up world that I live in.
''Need a ride?'' a deep voice spoke beside me.
''No.''
''Looks like you need a ride, Red'' although it's not my name, I've grown to get acquainted with it.
The man who spoke looks certainly familiar but I can't tell where I met him. His eyes were striking dark blue, shining like two identical gems under the sparkling lights of the club signage, his midnight black locks tied in a neat ponytail. He was wearing a charcoal grey suit that made him look stiff and sharp, out of place from the drunken people by the street side. I bet he isn't fond of wearing such outfits ''Do I know you?''
He pouted his lips, feigning hurt. "Wait here okay?" I reluctantly followed him with my eyes as he crossed the street to a GMC and came back with something in his hands. It looks like a tin canister, it looks the same as mine. The one I threw in that asshole from the gym. "You remember me-"
My knuckles collided with his jaw, cutting him off completely. "Asshole."
The cab arrived and I left the dumbfounded asshole on the curve.
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