A/N: I apologize if this chapter is a bit too long but I hope this update was worth the wait. Thank you for all the positive responses I received for the first chapter they were awesome to read. Thank you as always for reading :)
A world where everything was off limits was a world were everything was much more fun. Michelle lived by these words, she lived by many words actually usually words exploring the more chaotic things of her nature. She had learned long ago that honesty was not a word she wished to live by nor was it in her nature. But like a chameleon she could emulate most things that people considered worthy or admiral and intimidation was definitely the thing she valued most as an asset. Michelle had learned this from the best faker in the world, which surprisingly wasn't the infamous con man Peter Barlow, or her dear friend Carla Donovan. No, such traits of flattery and cunning were well learnt in her upbringing by the poisonous leech of a human being she called 'mother'.
So good was Helen Connor at deceiving people it took Michelle sixteen years of her life to learn what exactly a vile vicious little trollop her mother truly was. In fact that whole world in which she lived in was a vicious place. She had grown up in such a bubble, where everyone was playing a part throwing about his or her wealth an effort to conceal the panic so often felt and stop anyone from ever questioning the truth. Everyone was always so certain about the future and obsessed with being right. Michelle's mother was so concerned with the trivial life existing in their glided cage that every waking moment was devoted to taking down anyone who posed a threat. Betrayal was a constant stable of her upbringing; about catching friends in lies before they caught you. It was hypocrisy at its finest; no one willing to admit that almost everyone, everywhere was faking it. The denial was so poisonous that Michelle had not other choice but to escape before the whole situation completely destroyed her. Did she sometimes miss her brothers? Sure, but Michelle did not allow herself to dwell on such things for longer then was necessary.
She regretted neither of the two robberies committed, the accidental murder, or the various heists and cons she participated in over years. She most definitely did not regret pulling a 'runaway bride' either. In her opinion she was doing all those suckers a favor. Every time one pathetic man after another was taken by surprise and cried about it, Michelle let it be it known that she did not deceive people anymore then they wanted to be deceived. So when people threw up their hands in despair and cried 'why me?' she gave a little reminder: Everyone, everywhere was faking 'it' and If everyone was faking 'it', maybe there was no 'it' after all. Maybe we were all guilty of just making 'it' up as we go along. And who could be blamed for the things, which they could not control? Michelle couldn't be bothered with those who ended tangled up in her web of deceit. She was just 'going along' like everyone else. She could have stayed around for that disgusting engagement forced upon her and live with all the money in the world. But the trade off came with the assumption the money didn't exist elsewhere when it clearly did. Michelle and Carla were living the dream with lots and lots of money and none of it was her fathers, so she didn't him for anything. As for Tony Gordon, he deserved that gunshot and regardless of what Carla thought about Michelle he would have ruined them. He had been much too difficult to deceive in the end.
Her shoes now glided across the tiled floor of the lobby and then onto the expensive carpet leading into the casino. Each step was taking with great care because someone was always sure to be watching, who was she kidding someone was always watching…every gentleman in the room had eyes only for her, stopped dead in their tracks as was customary practically breathing her in. If Carla could see this now, Michelle was sure they'd have a good laugh. But Carla was being no fun right now, so it was her own loss. Holding her clutch purse Michelle smirks only a teensy tiny bit before striding over to the poker table; a game was already in progress
"Guess who my eyes have spied, gentleman?" says one the handsome men with dark brown hair seated at the table smoking a cigar, "Aliena Calder has graced us with her presence alas."
Aliena Calder was the alias Michelle went by whilst socializing with the casino set. She didn't want to be knowing as Moira de Whitney downstairs but only when signing those hotel cheques. She thought herself to be something smart.
"We were beginning to worry Miss Calder," says another gentleman at the table rising quickly to pull out a chair but working up a charm all the same, "We thought you might have abandoned us for the evening and that would've been a real tragedy since you always manage to light the room."
"Oh well you know me darling," Michelle says drawing in all the attention and loving every minute of it, "You know the party doesn't truly start until I get here." She winks at another one of her newfound friends working the table with her natural banter and effortless poise, "Now I hope you gentlemen didn't work up a sweat with out me…all work and no play."
"We always seem to forget ourselves without you. Luckily we have you around to point us in the right direction."
Michelle let out one laugh after another. It was one of the most enchanting features of her personality, somewhat genuine and because it was one of the most real things about this built up façade and persona it was probably what managed to engage men to her. Men could be resistant about many things, but not her laugh or her gentle touch. She skillfully placed her delicate fingers on the shoulder of a young American sitting next to her working up a playful yet alluring massage, "What are the stakes then?" Easy pickings she thought. It was time to work this card game in her favor as per usual. She took a quick glance at the American's cards before innocently proclaiming, "That's a lovely hand you've got there."
"No looking Miss. It's cheating—"
"Aww you are no fun!" she muses, "I like a good 'cheat' now and again," she winks watching as he turns a bit red trying to decipher all her innuendo's like pathetic men often did. Taking a moment to let the supposed offer sink in she reaches for cigarette pack slowly dragging one out and putting it to her lips. The man was in such a daze he didn't notice her steal his lighter and concealing it quickly in her pocket. This was the moment to really work her magic with her hypnotic voice, "Be an angel and light me one."
It takes the gentleman a moment because he is very much focused on her lips before he fumbles stumbling about to find his lighter. It seems to be such a great honor for him to have the job, just too bad he'll never find it. Michelle was laughing secretly on inside because whilst he flapping about like a fish looking his pathetic lighter she slowly reached into the jacket hung about the back of her chair quickly retrieving his wallet and sliding it into her waiting purse. He was sweating profusely embarrassed that he could not find his lighter and Michelle quickly slid it back onto to the edge of table right near his elbow. The man knocked it to the floor
"Oh look," Michelle says pointing at the floor, "I think your elbow just pushed it to the ground."
"I feel so foolish now," he laughs, " It must have been on this table the whole time," he picked it up finally giving Michelle a light and getting a demure smile in return.
"You're so lovely," she says in her hypnotic voice, "And so handsome…when did you get so handsome?" Again she went back to playing his shoulder, slowly breaking down his defenses.
"We've only just met—"
"Really?" says Michelle playing dumb, "Well it must be those suits all you gentlemen wear. I swear it makes so many of you look all the same. But those eyes of yours, they're so different I would remember those eyes anywhere. We have definitely met before. I am certain of it," another flutter of the eyelashes Michelle was now eyeing his watch. It looked very expensive, now if she could get only get it off his lovely wrist.
"You English birds are really something else aren't you?" he says enjoying the flirting.
"There's only 'one' me darling," Michelle's brain is rummaging through all the ways she could go for the watch. She wasn't skilled like Peter or Carla; they could have that watch off in a matter of seconds. With them all it took was a hug and a 'slide and slip'. But Michelle wasn't sure if she should risk it. It was so tempting and could probably get her and Carla a whole wad of cash and finally stop her mentor from yapping about Michelle's irresponsibility every second. Perhaps if she got him drunk and took him in the direction of the bathroom later it would easier to nick the watch. For now she'd stick to lathering him up with empty compliments, making him feel like the only man in the room and that she actually cared about his poker game, "Focus on your hand darling."
Poker was much more fun when she actually playing it. Although she didn't mind charming the men with her advice and letting them fawn all over her with total disregard for the rules, Michelle felt restless just sitting around; especially this evening when she should be on the prowl keeping her eyes out for that rich Italian Count. He was supposed to be her and Carla's next project and he frequented the casino daily yet tonight he was nowhere to be found. It was so infuriating and not wanting to upset the men at her table with questions about him that could give way to jealously, she decided to put her ears to good use and see if any of the tables nearby where gossiping or mentioning the high profiled Count in any way. Glancing quickly over at the table behind her she recognized some people usually seen in the company of the rich Count, it was time to eavesdrop away. But little did Michelle know she would hear much more beneficial and interesting things.
"—I really don't see what all the fuss is about regarding these 'Barbie Bandits' or whatever you want to call them. The papers are not going to stop me from enjoying one last stop in Monte Carlo, I tell you that much! I love my vacations in Monaco and not one single bloody bank robber is going to stop me from having fun with my money," says a man maybe his early forties. He was a rather grouchy sort, not fine company at all Michelle thought.
"Well I for one think it's all rather exciting," says a younger woman next to him, "A friend of a friend in banking has some insider info—"
Michelle adjusted her ears glancing over at the American man sitting next to her. It was good that his attention had drifted back to game and better for her because she wouldn't have to waste any more energy at the moment trying to entertain him. For now the expensive watch could wait and as she had already gotten his wallet; this night wouldn't be a complete waste after all. Right now Michelle just wanted to figure out what and how much people knew about her and Carla's escapades. In a way it was sort of exciting to hear people throwing theories about, taking about her like she actually mattered because growing up she had only ever been made to feel was insignificant. These flighty gossiping hags fed her ego so to speak.
The woman continues, "He says... the banker friend of a friend that apparently these 'Barbie Bandits' aren't even really gorgeous. Apparently they look like a bunch of gorgons and this whole 'Barbie' thing is just a pathetic attempt by the newspapers to make more sales."
"Make sense," agrees one of her friends sitting next to her.
"Well of course," drawls another man raising eyebrows like an insufferable snob, "Everything in life is about profit. But's you've got it wrong because it's not the papers behind it at all. In fact I have a high official friend in the government and he tells me that the 'Barbie Bandits' is just a bunch of tosh orchestrated by the powerful Rothschild banking family. They rob their own banks so that we'll all be focused on finding more ways to protect our money and in all the hysteria they'll magically offer up a solution. Naturally the solution will be safer vault's and we'll all be fools clamouring about paying higher interest just to put our money in them."
"Now I'm no expert but I think these 'Barbie Bandit's are actually government employees. They rob so sophisticatedly and no one stops them that I feel the banks must have been given direct orders from some higher power to let them go on their merry way. And of course the government is stashing the money away for war. It's a perfect distraction because the government wants a diversion from talk of war and so what better way but to keep war out of the paper then with stories about two attractive robbers. Like I said before I'm no expert but it just a feeling I have."
"Well it's a stupid feeling," snaps yet another person at the table, " If there is a war coming up then I must be thick because last time I checked we just finished 'the war to end all wars 'eleven years ago! And as for the government, it doesn't have to steal money it already has access to—"
"—I still say they're ugly! The 'Barbie Bandits' are a bunch of vile ugly women. Mark my words when this all over, they'll be caught out as looking nothing like beautiful women that the press made them out to be. Oh and they'll be boring church going little housewives just because it will it all the more scandalous and horrific."
Michelle could only smirk thinking, where did these people get such ridiculous ideas? They were all much too convoluted and complicated as well down right stupid but the members sitting at that table just couldn't help themselves. There was an incessant need to top the next person and their theories which had ideas more grandiose and idiotic than the last. If only Carla had been here tonight, she'd be put her friend to ease finally with the knowledge that they truly had nothing to worry about. With the police all across Europe relying on the people, they wouldn't get far with tips like these. There was nothing to sweat about except the money problem, and for now Michelle had solved it temporarily by snatching the young American's wallet. But still she wanted the bloody rich Count. Where the hell was he anyways? Michelle's eyes showered the room looking casually for her prey. Maybe if she got up and walked amongst the tables she'd be able to find him. The poker game and all the gentlemen involved in it had lost her interest long ago anyways. They had just served as practice of sorts all week for what was to be the bigger and better prize. And it was time to distance herself from the table just incase the man noticed his wallet missing sooner than later.
"Excuse me gentlemen but I'm afraid I've only just remembered I have other engagements this evening," sliding out of her chair she picks up the cigarette pack popping it in her purse right on top of the stolen wallet before smirking at the American, "For safe keeping of course," she offers as an explanation. It wasn't a very good one that she would have almost done better not give him any explanation at all. But it was so funny to her how people would accept anything you told them just because of how she looked and how they perceived her to be. It was exactly like the old man who her parents wanted to forced her into marrying had behaved. He was practically decrepit and Michelle had been forced to listen countless times to how perfect she was for him because she was so beautiful. That experience which forced her to runaway made Michelle grow to resent the shallowness of males. And she hoped the American considered this a lesson learnt once he discovered his money missing and she long gone; that it was never wise to judge a book by it's cover. He'd get everything he deserved just like all the other stupid useless males ever present in this world.
Michelle decided she wanted to have some fun. Maybe it was time to go back to her hotel room and wave the wallet around in front of Carla's face and coax her into a night out on the town. Hell she still hadn't even touched the money she stole off of the side table earlier on so they could have extras. So caught in in her own world and ready to celebrate this small victory Michelle helped herself to some champagne off the tray of a passerby waiter, downing it halfway before she did a double take and almost choked.
"Now that's no way to drink champagne, now is it? I would have thought Carla taught you better."
"Peter Barlow," Michelle whispers although his name went without saying. He wasn't a man who required an introduction by any means. Still she can't believe her eyes. The greatest con man in all of Britain of not the world was smirking at her with his beautiful sensual brown eyes. The wait staff uniform could not take away from any of his handsome features in fact it only amplified them, "Well I'll be damned. I thought you were messing about in Spain, last we heard."
"Well you know me darling I can never stay in one place for too long. This lifestyle doesn't call for it anyways you know better than most that I get incredibly bored."
Michelle wondered if Carla knew Peter was here. If she didn't Michelle couldn't wait to see the look of glee on Carla's face when they reunited. Carla could be hard and cold towards many people but when it came to Peter she was always reduced to mush. It was no surprise really, since the two had been lovers once.
"I would like to spend time chatting about Spain and all that jazz but it would be quite strange for a wait staff like myself and a socialite like you to be carrying on such a long social visit; and I'm afraid this is anything but a social visit. So listen carefully."
"Alright," says Michelle taking aback by his abrupt change and manner of his tone, "What's wrong? Do you need Carla for a job? Me?"
"Walk with me," he says grabbing the empty flute from her hand and passing another one, "Follow me as I go to the back near the kitchens." Michelle fell into step behind him keeping her distance as he made his way to back near the hallway leading to the area of the kitchens.
"What's this all about then?" Michelle says starting to worry but at the same time developing a sinking suspicion that Carla had told on her old lover and mentor about the murder of Tony Gordon and now Peter was here to set her straight. The thought of this was enough to create a slow burn in the pit of her stomach.
"Carla's been arrested," he says curtly sitting his tray down on a nearby table fiddling around with the glasses pretending to work, "Not going to get into the details at the moment. I just need you to listen; the police will be storming this place any moment now looking for you so we need to get out of here."
"Oh my god," Michelle panics. She hoped that Carla was alright and her mind was racing just wondering what the hell happened. Perhaps people had recognized them as the infamous 'Barbie Bandits' after all.
"Don't be dramatic," Peter shrugs off the white coat that is apart of his fake waiter uniform handing it to her, "Hold this. Now here's what we're going to do; we're going to focus on the entrance door."
"Why?!" snaps Michelle, "Why don't we just leave now?" She didn't want to stand around looking at anything or anyone she just wanted to bolt.
"Staff will most likely on high alert for anyone leaving the casino just moments before the police are expected. Chances are it will put you on their radar even more if we try to leave. So it's not a questioning of leaving if ever but leaving at the right time."
"So why are we looking at the entrance for?" Michelle asks impatient and anxious with this whole ordeal. She had been enjoying Rome so much it broke her heart to think she'd be leaving it all behind so soon.
"Our signal," Peter stares her down warning her not to pout anymore, "Roll that up into a ball," he says nodding at the jacket. Michelle does as she is told because in all honesty she has always been a bit of scared of Peter. He could be so charming and then switch just like that leaving no doubt there that he could do horrible things to people when required of him and not give it any of his actions a second thought. Basically he was not the type of man anyone wanted to cross.
"You know my freedom is at stake here! I'm walking on pins and needles—"
"She's here," Peter says forcing Michelle to look hitting her arm.
Michelle looked up to see a beautiful woman with dirty blonde hair and brown eyes walking into the casino wearing the most elaborate of furs and expensive jewelry she had ever seeing. It seemed like the woman had the whole casinos attention with her obivious display wealth contained in that ridiculous over the top getup.
"Who is she?"
"Never you mind. Her arrival just a cue that the police will be here in," he looks down at his pocket watch, "5-4-3-2-1…"
Michelle wanted to ask how he could be so certain of all this. Or how he even knew about Carla's arrest to begin with? Should she even trust that he was telling the truth or was this just some plot devised by him and Carla to scare her? But before she even get a word out voicing these concerns the doors of Casino flew open with police officers storming in and causing alarm amongst everyone. She had to laugh at how Peter just seemed to know things and then she realized it was pointless to ask because the answer laid in the fact that he was just Peter the greatest con man in all the world and one did not simply ask question about his methods.
"Attention! Attention guests of this hotel casino we are looking for a Miss Moira de Whitney! Have you heard of or seen a woman by this name?! She is described as dark haired brunette—"
"Oh my goodness," Michelle whispers freaking all the more as the police start canvasing the front of the room holding out composite sketches which she has no way of knowing whether they depicted her accurately or not since her eye sight was beginning to blur under all the stress. However Peter held his grip on her firmly staring at that damn blonde woman and Michelle just wanted to know why they weren't leaving already. She tried to move away towards the hallway that would lead to the kitchen exit but he held her place.
"Watch the blonde lady."
"Why? For heavens sake Peter," she spouts off trying her best to control her voice in hushed tones, "My freedom is at stake here! Stop lounging around watching stupid women in tacky fur coats and gaudy jewelry!"
He ignored her outburst though keeping his eye on the blonde women until Michelle finally stopped pouting and realized she should do the same because they weren't leaving until she did. She saw the woman with brown eyes, blonde hair, draped in furs and expensive jewelry circling the room a few times before making her way along the front of the room, near where the tile led out into the lobby. She was clutching a fine purse as well which she proceeded to open ever so discreetly and whilst people were clamoring under police interrogation she opened it pulling out a vile full of clear liquid. It was only a matter of seconds, that's how fast she was, before the lady did the classic 'slip and fall' in the water she had just poured taking a fall on the tile floor and screaming out in a dramatic voice which commanded everyone's attention. Immediately all eyes were on her, people curious to see what had happened and others rushing to help, and her just putting on the biggest performance in theatrics ever witnessed threatening to sue the hotel.
"Oh my goodness! The pain, the pain! Oh it hurts, God almighty! There will be hell to pay for this!"
"Miss, let me have a look," says a hotel staffer, "Perhaps it's just a little sprang."
"I'll show you a sprang!" she takes her clutch whacking the staffer across the head with it before collapsing into a fit of tears, " Do you know who I am?! I will sue this hotel, I will suck it dry for such an insensitive remark. There will be blood! Take no prisoners! I'm bloody rich and damn well important so don't you forget it fool! Police! POLICE—"
"That's my girl," says Peter grinning at the scene for what seems like an eternity with nothing but the upmost respect and admiration for the lady before switching back to his serious face, "Alright distraction phase is over and all hotel staffers and police are busy looking after her. Now we can escape with no one watching," he grabs Michelle's hand quickly dragging her through the nearby door and making the long run down hallway connecting to the kitchens.
"Who was that girl?" Michelle demands to know because for some reason it was bugging her not to know and she was very territorial of Peter out of respect for Carla.
"No one you know," Peter says not looking at her once as he drags her along, "That coat you have rolled up, stuff it up your dress please and quickly." They were nearing the kitchens
"Why?" Michelle is annoyed
"Because I told you too. Don't test me right now."
"Fine," she took the rolled up coat and with Peter's back turned away for a brief moment stuff it up her dress.
"You're my pregnant wife and I need to get you out here before the baby comes…it's the story we're going to sell to cook staff. I hope your good a faking."
"You know I am," Michelle says rather smugly, "Fake it till you make it."
"Hmmm," says Peter making a study of her, "I was afraid you might say that. Unfortunately we're no position to fake it in the way you are accustomed too when your freedom depends on it. Plus unlike Carla you can be rather campy at times and it's not very convincing."
"Not true!" Michelle shouts like petulant child. He always put Carla up on a pedestal whilst knocking her, Michelle down.
"Not arguing with you," he says again with little patience, "It's a fact. Now stand still for a moment.
Michelle did as she was told and out of nowhere she went plummeting to the ground in pain, "Oww!" Peter had hit her on the back with some sort of blunt object and the feeling was so shocking, so excruciating she was unable to fight back the tears, "Why did you do that for?!"
"Not risking the 'faking it until you make it' today, i'm afraid. Now cry a bit louder and put some more life into it. I wanna believe the pain"
"I hate you!"
"I love you too darling!"
The door to the cooks kitchen opened with a staff members head peaking out to see what all the commotion was about. Peter quickly kicked whatever he had used to hit Michelle with to the side smirking as he fell to her level and cradled her trying to prop her and putting on the act like he was having quite the struggle.
"What is going on here?" says the cook, "You two can't be back here. This area is for staff only!"
"Please sir," says Peter putting on water works of his own and gesturing to Michelle's stomach, "My wife is having problems. I'm almost certain it's to do with the baby. I need to get her out of here but the police are not letting people through out front. Can you help us? Please?"
"Yes, please help us," Michelle says trying to sniff back tears but it was no use. Peter had really hit her back so hard and so out of the blue and she was still suffering from the shock because she never would have believe he'd do something like that to her. The cook moved by such a pitiful state quickly rushed over to offer his assistance shouting back out for some other cooks still in the kitchen to come and help. They began to slowly lift Michelle off the ground and Peter made sure there hands went nowhere near the stomach area.
"That's right Sarah," Peter says pulling another faux name out of nowhere, " Everything is going to be alright." Michelle wanted to give him the middle finger in response but resisted opting to take the higher road this time around. They made it into the kitchen where two of the cooks helped Michelle get settled in a chair while the third offered to help Peter fetch his car and bring it around the back.
All Michelle had to do was keep on crying and god did she cry like there was no tomorrow. She could be quite the drama queen all on her own but the added pain just upped the theatrics. It got her some extra sympathy and more fawning so it was totally worth it. Within minutes she was being helped out of the back door into a comfy little two seater. Everything was a blur because her eyes were wet and clouded with tears. But she vowed that when this was all over and they were out of sight Michelle was going to slap Peter silly.
"What's the best way to get out of here and avoid the police holding us up?" says Peter putting on the charm and sympathy with the cook, "I just don't want anything to happen to our precious baby."
"No problem—" The cook gave Peter an alternative route and like lighting they were on their way heading god knows where.
"I could kill you for that!" Michelle finally spits out as they cruise along the roads, "You didn't have to hit me you know!"
"Not crying like a baby anymore, are we?" says Peter holding onto the steering wheel of the car with one hand while running his fingers through his thick black hair with the other, "I expect only the most authentic performances from my pupils."
"Oh to hell with you," Michelle thrashes about hysterically. She was just so angry and wanted it to be known, "And thanks for keeping me on pins and needles just waiting to leave the actual casino! I'm sure you got a good little laugh out of just watching me squirm."
"Someone ought to teach you a lesson about taking the things your friends do for you for granted. So if it means you have to squirm for a few minutes now and again then it's worth it."
"What are you on about?!"
"Two words: Tony Gordon," Peter snaps, "Don't act so surprise young lady! I know everything about that. What were you thinking?"
"Stupid Carla!" Michelle rages picking up a random bottle sitting in between them and throwing on the floor, " I told her not to tell!"
"Unfortunately for you I have access to the newspapers and the BBC radio! I keep up to date on my news it would stupid to not do otherwise. And if I understand correctly Carla put her life on the line for you with that Factory Heir! Lucky for you that nobody is perfect but don't you go around trying to act like you can never do any wrong!"
"I committed the perfect murder Peter Barlow!" Michelle shouts back. They often got in to immature shouting matches with Carla having to come between them and keep the peace. Too bad she wasn't around for this one because if Michelle could she ram this car off into a ditch just to spite him in childish anger. Peter just made her so unreasonable sometimes and she acted irrational because she once had a crush on him when she had first met Carla.
"Like hell you did, you little brat!"
"I did Peter Barlow, I committed the perfect murder. Don't be jealous because you never have done before."
"Oh you are such a little brat. I don't know how Carla puts up with you. Maybe you need a good day in jail to set you straight lady. Oh who am I kidding, you're no lady because being a lady would require you actually have some class which you clearly don't."
Michelle was pissed. Peter was always such a mean person when it came to protecting Carla and clearly she had spilled the beans about their involvement in Tony Gordon's murder; but it was obvious he was only hearing one side of the story. He shouldn't judge until he heard the whole thing. But then again this all just led back to Peter and Carla's preoccupation with jumping down her throat about every little thing. They could just never cut her some slack and quite frankly Michelle was convinced they were a little jealous that they couldn't live life like her, without any hang ups and being completely free. Michelle wanted a limitless life and would apologize to no one because they didn't have any idea what it was like to live like in glided cage.
"Shut up Peter," snaps Michelle she had decided his opinions no longer mattered anymore.
"Look," he says glancing at her and softening up a bit, "It is time for you to grow up. That little stunt you pulled with the cheques and running through all that money so quickly is not good. The thing about swindling is that when you do it, you have to do it well and make your profits last a while. No one wants to be keeping up such an active and high profile especially people in your position right now. You've got two major headlines concerning your and Carla's crimes right now."
Michelle was feeling like absolute crap again. Why couldn't she return to her blissful days of shopping just shoving the consequences on the back burner for the time being? She didn't really want to think about the horrible thing that happened with Tony Gordon and there was no way Peter would ever understand how things got so out of control anyways. She'd rather deflect from the seriousness of the situation than voice the betrayal she felt from Carla's camp for ever telling him what was supposed to be their secret to begin with, "You know what they say Peter, you're nobody until you're talked about."
"That's not the path to maturity I was hoping for but it's a start...maybe. Just promise me you'll consider how your screw ups reflect on Carla in the future, okay?"
"Is that all?" Michelle says curtly hoping the lecture about her selfishness was over now because if it wasn't she was just going to drone him out.
"Yes," Peter says relaxing a bit and warming up to Michelle once more, "You know I love you Michelle. You're my girl. A spoilt, selfish, poor little rich girl but my girl all the same."
Michelle couldn't help but smile reluctantly at his warmth. Peter's opinion of her mattered almost as much as Carla's did and she hated for him to think anything negative about her. But she still wished both him and Carla would just accept that this was her nature and regardless of what they thought she wasn't going to change it for anyone ever "Speaking of girls, who's that blonde woman you were mooning over? The one with the layers of furs and perfect 'slip and fall'. Is she some new protégé of yours? Carla won't be happy to hear of this."
"That was quite the performance she put on, wasn't it?" Peter says smirking, "And I don't see why it should be a problem for Carla now. We're strictly 'friends' these days and need I remind you it whose decision it was to keep that way."
"Whatever. I have no time to regale myself in tales of your and Carla's complicated love life. But she is my best friend so you better be straight with me Peter… Protégé or girlfriend? Girlfriend or protégé? Or maybe a possibility of both?" Michelle was enjoying the teasing him in her sing-song voice as it had a long history of driving him mad. But everything she did to push his buttons was all in good fun, "The possibilities are endless with the infamous Peter Barlow."
Peter just grinned for a while blushing a bit before finally making up his mind to speak. Giving her a shifty sideways glance he says, "Replace 'girlfriend' with 'wife' and then we have a possible answer."
"You're joking!" says Michelle surprised by the news, " You have a wife Peter?!"
"For about a month now," Peter smirks, "We've only known each other for about three months and it was rather impulsive but I really do think she's the one."
"Remind me who needs to grow up next time we a serious sit down," Michelle raises her eyebrows. She rather shocked by this news downright floored even because the words 'marriage', 'wife', and most especially 'commitment' did not go with the likes of Peter Barlow, not ever. "But that's impossible."
"Honest Michelle, it's true," he flashes his wedding band before putting all fingers back on the steering wheel.
"But you can't be tamed! That's impossible—"
"Enough," Peter says throwing up a hand to silence her, "We're not talking about my relationship anymore."
"But does Carla know? I mean did you tell her in any of the correspondence spent bashing me," Michelle had to add that she couldn't help herself. "What's her name then?" Michelle still believe he was being serious. But the wedding ring was there as clear as day, "It's not a con is it? She's not rich girl with a whole lot of money tucked away?"
" No," he says rather sternly before whispering, "Leanne," he whispers focusing on the road. Michelle caught the flightiness in his breath as he utter her name, "Leanne Battersby is the name."
This was not good and because Michelle hadn't nothing nice to say at the moment she opted not to say anything at all. But she did feel so sorry for Carla and thought Peter was an absolute jerk and attention seeker pulling crap like this They sat in silence for a while as car drove down the road and Michelle noticed that they seemed to be leaving the center of the city in the opposite direction of the police headquarters.
" Wait, I thought we were going to rescue Carla?"
"Not until I put you somewhere safe. Wouldn't make much sense rescuing you only to deliver straight into the clutches of law enforcement, now would it?"
"I suppose not." Perhaps it was good for her to have a few hours away from Carla anyways. It would give her ample amount of time to practice her 'poker face' once her best friend came storming about asking if she had known Peter had went and gotten himself hitched and what not. It was bound to create a whole bunch of drama and Michelle would have Carla's back in a fight if things went to blows with his new blonde trollop. But for now Michelle would just play dumb because she couldn't face Carla at the moment if this information just happen to blow up. Then she, Michelle would find herself in a jail cell right next to Carla both girls nursing bloody knuckles in the name of Peter Barlow. He was so not worth all that trouble right now. For the time being Michelle would deal with intruders into their circle like she often did, with her second best friend in the whole world 'passive aggressiveness', followed by her third best friend which was 'smug bitch' that was the only way to get rid of vicious little trollop like that Leanne woman.
"I wonder how my Leanne is holding up and our Carla?"
He got the death stare then. How dare he call Leanne his 'my' anything. This was not acceptable at all. Right then and there she decided that no matter what for sake of Carla she hated Leanne whatever her last name was with all her heart.
"Why are you looking at me like that for?" says Peter caught off guard.
"No reason," says Michelle carefully rearranging her face to reflect that of an innocent angel whilst on the inside plotting Leanne's doom like a gleeful devil. She'd make sure to have that trollop running for the hills in no time and making things go back to how they were and always should be; her and Carla getting themselves into messes and Peter coming to the rescue sorta of like he was now. Marriage just complicated things and Michelle was not willing to share Peter with anyone especially of Carla started crying over him again. Then who would have to wipe away all the tears and drag her from bed every morning? Michelle of course! No way in hell was that going to be Michelle's fate she was meant for shopping and parties not babysitting.
"Are you sure?" Peter says giving her suspicious look because he knew the signs of Michelle's brain working away at a plot or two.
That vile little trollop was messing wrong sort of people. Michelle would take care of her with no complications whatsoever. After all she was one half of the infamous 'Barbie Bandits' and no matter what they wrote in the papers or the crazy theories that common people spun up about them the fact remained that her and her fellow bandit were invincible. It was her and Carla to the end.
"Oh I'm sure Peter," she simpers under his intense gaze before laughing her infectious laugh that so often reassured people nothing was amiss, "Drive on Peter, drive on."
And so they sped into the night. For now Michelle was content in just celebrating her great escape.