Chapter Nine
Lily
The room is typically smoky, although the smell of cigars has always appealed to me more than the smell of cigarettes. Blaine's been puffing for a while now, and doesn't seem keen on stopping. One day he'll get tongue cancer the way he's going.
I never told him about what happened. I couldn't. I'd promised Beth that I'd never tell anyone about that night, although I suppose I'd already reneged on that with Duke...
It's more the fact that Blaine wouldn't understand. I hadn't told him about what happened to me when I was 15 in those woods near Boston. I'd met him fairly soon after on an entirely different path, but how I got there I'd never truly explained. Not in full, anyway.
So telling him I'd almost cut a man's balls off would just make him think I'm mad. Without knowing the history, it would make no fucking sense, so why bring it up? Frankly, I'm all too ready to forget the episode and move on, just like Beth.
The reason I'm in his office right now, however, is for business. After the botched job with Wheaton, Blaine's been mulling things over. As he mentioned before, the thought of giving me a break was something he was considering. Right now, that's the last thing I want. I want to get back out there. I want to do what I'm best at.
Every score takes me a little further from this world. In some ways I love it. Stealing has been ingrained in me for years, and the idea of taking stuff off rich folk has never really bothered me. Their insurance always covers it, and those companies are worth billions. So if anyone's going to lose out, it might as well be them.
I enjoy the thrill too. The deceit. As I child I enjoyed acting. I was in a few plays before I hit my teens. Never the lead, because I was too shy back then. But I still had a passion for it.
This life lets me act out those fantasies in some warped way. I can be whoever I want to be. Play a character. Seduce a man and enter his world of luxury for a night. Often I'll have to sleep with him as part of the role, but that only makes things more authentic. If I go back to theirs, drug them, and sneak out, they might smell a rat a week or so later when they're robbed. When they wake up next to me in the morning, however, after a night of passion, it solidifies the story.
Of course, I give myself out-clauses. For example, if I find a man truly repulsive, I'll make sure he gets so drunk that when he wakes with the effects of my drug still in him, he'll simply put it down to the alcohol. I'll tell him we had sex, and he'll believe me because it massages his ego. I've discovered that men only hear what they want to hear, so that's exactly what I tell them.
But, of course, I don't plan on doing this forever. The bigger the score, the bigger my cut, and the sooner I'll be able to try something new. Right now, though, I'm only 23, and life's just getting started.
There's a knock at the door and Blaine calls out for the person to enter. In walks Claire, another trapper like me. That's what we're called – trappers. I'm not sure if it's a term Blaine came up with or something that's used a lot across this 'industry'.
“You wanted to see me Blaine?” she says. She's got wavy brunette hair, hazel brown eyes, and a fantastic figure. A bit taller than me but with beautiful curves. Then there's her face, which is just as annoying. Naturally full lips, high cheekbones, and these cute dimples that appear by the side of her mouth when she smiles.
“Yes Claire, come in.”
She appears by my side and gives me and nod and a smile. “Hi Lily. You OK?”
“Sure, why wouldn't I be?” Claire isn't so much as a friend as a work colleague. In fact, I'd probably put her in the 'rival' category. If Blaine was to drop me for this job, she'd be the one to step in. And she's just about the most gorgeous woman I've ever met. Incredibly sexy and seductive. Men fall at her feet everywhere, I've seen it. And she's good in the house too. That's the part that involves scouting and getting to know the layout.
She frowns at my frostiness, and I feel obliged to apologize. “Sorry, bad couple of days,” I say. She gives a face as if to say 'think nothing of it' and turns back to Blaine.
“So, what's this about?” she asks.
Blaine pulls his cigar from his mouth, drops it into an ashtray, and pulls out two files from a draw in his desk. He passes each of us one and returns to his cigar.
“That's what this is about,” he says. “Big event in Manhattan coming up. I've secured you both entrances and identities.”
We look at each other and then over to Blaine. “Both of us?” This hasn't been done before. It's always been just one or the other, or we've been sent to different events.
“Yep, both of you. This is literally the cream of the crop girls. We've got sports stars. We've got actors. We've got politicians. We've got billionaires. It's the holy fucking grail, so don't screw it up.”
I look again at Claire, and see an excited smile on her face.
“Now girls, remember yourselves,” says Blaine. He looks at both of us, one after another. “This isn't a place to pick up a boyfriend. There will be famous faces there, but you're there to do a job. In your packs you've got the usual. Information about your identities and backgrounds and a list of the most likely candidates for you to trap. There are some good ones in there. I expect you both to do a good job on this one.”
We dive into our packs. Blaine has contacts everywhere who sell him information. These packs are always so well put together and thorough. Each potential target will have their own mini file, with all the information you could ever need about them. Only those who are either single or likely to be susceptible to our charms are included. That means no one over a certain age and no one known to be loyal to their wife or partner. When you attend these events, the last thing you want is to waste your time on someone when there's a sure thing lingering nearby.
Claire is already busily flicking through the potential targets, looking at their pictures and scanning their notes. When they're good looking that's always a bonus, and certainly makes the entire experience a more enjoyable one. In those situations, you sometimes actually want to have sex and see the entire job through.
“You have a father and son?”
I look up to see Claire holding two separate files.
Blaine nods. “Yes, they're both targets.”
“Well I know who I'm going after. He's yummy,” says Claire.
I snatch the file in her left hand and look at it. A middle aged man looks back at me. He's got dark hair with flecks of gray, a strong chiseled jaw, deep-set brown eyes. Definitely handsome. And extremely rich. A billionaire, apparently.
I feel the file snatched back out of my hand. “Yeah, you can take him if you like. I prefer the son. Take a look, he's stunning.”
She passes me the file, and I feel my heart almost burst in my chest. I'm usually so composed, but my chest suddenly feels like it's going to explode through my ribs. I can't believe who I'm looking at. I have to blink several times to make sure I'm not seeing things.
That dark hair, neatly slicked back. Those blue, piercing eyes, hidden behind dark eyebrows. That five o clock stubble, dusted over his dimpled chin.
Duke. And I'm finally seeing his other side.
Mason Farrell. Twenty three years old. Son of a billionaire.
Deceit (Part 1) Page 11
