GIVE IT UP | {Do As I Say}

Wispy asymmetrical bangs shaded orbs of sapphire blue as a young woman crossed her smooth legs, taking a sip of her Caribbean Smuggler. Threads of Bacardi, orange, lemon and lime weaved over her tongue down her throat as her gaze skated back and forth the club.

"Everybody comes to Hollywood," she mused wryly, a curtain of thick lashes fanning down over her eyes. Tilting the glass in her hand, the woman allowed a cube of ice to slide down into her mouth. Several bodies dressed in the latest fashions packed the club as they all flaunted their dance moves, flirted slyly, and allowed themselves to belong in the crowd. Sucking on the ice cube thoughtfully, the woman uncrossed then crossed her legs, ignoring the men eyeing her from the side.

'Rush' was the hottest and most elite club in Fanelia, and once you got in you were told to savor each minute because once you got kicked off the list you were off for life. Straightening up primly, the woman turned around on her stool and gazed at the condensation that had appeared on the outside of her cup due to the cold temperature. Picking the now empty tumbler up nonchalantly, the woman took the bottom edge of the glass and rolled it across the paper coaster, flitting her blue eyes to the bartender who was looking at her. Continuing with her agonizingly slow roll on the paper coaster, she dragged her teeth across her bottom lip before setting it down. "That'll be all Dilandau," she smiled, her lips moving only ever so slightly, but the mischievousness in her eyes compensated. Gathering her purse, the woman left through the back door of the club, the only sign she had been there at all a cloud of lily perfume.

Setting the tumbler into a bin gently with all the other dirty glasses, the albino skated his red eyes across the scenery. After casually moving some bottles of vodka around, he picked up the paper coaster and using the bar counter as a shield from view, he groped for his lighter. Flicking his wrist, causing the silver lid to snap back, he held the flame against the coaster, his face void of any concentration or emotion. The orange fire danced, close but not touching the thick paper, and as the light shone against the pattern the woman had made with the glass, luminescent letters were visible. Snapping the lighter shut, Dilandau tossed the coaster into the garbage and slinging the rag off his shoulder he wiped down the counter calmly.

[__][__][__]

Stiletto heels clicked against rain swathed sidewalk as a sleek black car rolled by. Silk glove covered fingers tightened their grip on the woman's purse, and walking purposefully over to the approaching phone booth she opened the small bag and flourished a white handkerchief. Wrapping the receiver in the white material, the woman slid a shiny quarter into the slot and dialed. The ring of the phone sounded in her ear three times before the other end picked up.

"Hello?"

"You have three hours," the woman spoke in an immaculate British accent.

"What?! I can't--" came the urgent reply, however the woman just hung up crisply. Unraveling the handkerchief from the receiver, the woman folded it into a neat square before planting a red lip stick mark on it. Tucking it inside the slot where extra change would come out, she strode away serenely, her raven colored ponytail swinging gently.

[__][__][__]

"Hello?"

"They've outbid you."

"Shit," was the reply.

"They have three hours to deliver the cash. If they don't, the balls in the air," Dilandau spoke into the receiver, cupping his hand over his mouth to amplify his voice slightly.

"Have they tracked her yet?"

"They've been waiting for her call all night," Dilandau laughed dryly, "Of course they've tracked her. At the time, that is. She's long gone by now."

There was a silence on the other end, and Dilandau crossed his arms.

"Tell her the dragon's hungry."

Dilandau frowned slightly at the comment, but made a sound of acknowledgement. Replacing the receiver, he turned around and nodded at the man sitting at the counter.

"What can I get you?"

The man looked down in his lap for a moment, the looked up, a lopsided smile curling up on his features.

"A Caribbean Smuggler."