TRICK - DES NNOCHIRI
The trick was to look beautiful and hungry.
Sofia had the beautiful part down pat. Nature had blessed her with all manner of good things. And where Nature had fallen short, diet, exercise, and cosmetic surgery had made up the deficit.
The hungry part was tough.
Crash dieting was risky, and no fun at all. The popsicle-stick-down-the-throat bulimia tactic was even less enjoyable. Both ways, you were liable to wind up looking (and smelling) like the walking dead.
Tough. But Sofia pulled it off, admirably.
A middle-aged, middle-sized, middle-income type. He’d probably taken pity on her, because she looked like his daughter. Or niece.
“I’ve never done this before.”
“Had the Blue Plate at Safari Sam’s?” She grinned, a charming, lopsided expression. “It’s just up the street. I’ll show you.”
She looked at him, all wide, earnest blue eyes.
“It’s not that hard.”
Her innocent look containing the promise that it soon would be.
Safari Sam’s, then maybe get a room, for an hour or two. Just to get out of the cold weather. Maybe get to know each other, a little better.
She’d have his confidence by then; he’d know that she was familiar with the neighborhood. So, she’d suggest a place.
She rubbed her arms, briskly. Supposedly, to get warm. Her jacket, though threadbare, had bulky sleeves.
Hastings Inn. She and the owner had a little arrangement. Financial.
The blades and needles were all there. In her sleeves, in their little pouches.
The owner, he’d get his cut.
After she made a few cuts, of her own.
BIO: Desmond (Des) Nnochiri spent his early years traveling with his parents, and was educated in England, the USA, and the Republic of Ireland (Eire). He writes freelance now, and has taken his first steps into the world of screenwriting. He has contributed stories to A Twist of Noir, The Flash Fiction Offensive, and Powder Burn Flash. He blogs at Des Nnochiri’s Write to Speak.
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