Painting the Town Red, Black and Blue
Jade closed the door and sighed with relief. They had nothing that connected her with the old woman. Nothing that could lead them to her, except the black sweater and jeans, but what trendy NYU girl doesn't have a black sweater and a pair of black jeans that makes her ass look damn good. Speaking of looking good...
Jade let the terry cloth pass down her shoulders, dropping to the ground at her feet as she walked around her apartment, preparing for the night. Tonight she was "going out", with a specific intention to draw attention, the type of attention that no father would want for his daughter, especially one with a history of serious mental conditions.
Jade smiled and selected a cute, tiny skirt: black with pleats and a pink, studded belt, and a pink tube top. The outfit would gather just the kind of bad attention that Jade wanted, and then all that was needed was the Italian-American anti-hero element, and her on-the-fly plan just might work.
The woman thought the plan through one more time. She had the clothes, she had the body, and the wonderful metropolis of New York would graciously provide the rest for her. She smiled as she brushed out her chestnut hair, which she still wasn't used too, and continued getting ready, lipstick, eyeshadow, every little detail was perfect for a college girl heading out to a party.
She slipped on a pair of strappy high heels, grabbing a small, pink purse and a black jean jacket. At the door she hesitated, turning around with her hand lingering for a moment on the door knob. It lft the cold metal and snatched up the Beretta that she had put in a drawer near the door just in case.
"Just in case," she repeated, kissing the side of the gun. If Frank didn't show, she didn't want any skirmish to last long. A quick shot and the wanker would be done for. She put it in her small purse and opened the door. She locked the archaic lock behind her and headed downstairs and out the front door.