anon, you had a point. I haven't forgotten. Promise

/

No one teaches you to breathe. You just do it. It comes naturally.
But all those other things you must learn.
You gotta learn how to smile, gotta learn how to frown, gotta learn when to lie and you gotta learn when to tell the truth.

You start out clean as a whistle.
And you go out like dirt on the bottom of a shoe.

If you are lucky, somewhere in between all that mess, you might find a moment or two of happiness. Maybe a day where you don't have to look over your shoulder.
Maybe a second where you aren't on the run from yourself.

But that's fucking rare, isn't it?

No one teaches you to run, either.
It just comes naturally.

It's no Nike commercial, but you damn well do it.

/ / / /

The hand clamps down heavily over her mouth and Ashley's first instinct is to lash out, so she does. This may not be much a room, may not be much of a place to lay her head, but it is hers.
Bought and paid for with dirty deeds.

Her elbow goes back and hits this solid wall of person, but she keeps trying.
Trying and getting nowhere, evidently.
Ashley hates impossible situations. Ashley hates being woken up after barely getting sleep.

Ashley hates this life she is in, all of a sudden, hates it a whole lot.

She is bustled out of her room and down the hallway, in and out of the dim lights, then out into the street where a dark car waits with the back door open.

A not so delicate shove to her back gives Ashley the hint.

"Shut the door."

Ashley rolls her eyes and does as told, giving the finger to her 'escort' through the tinted windows. And then she crosses her arms, refusing to meet those blue eyes beside her.
No money is worth this. No habit of staring fires is worth this.

"Stop behaving like a spoiled brat, Ashley."
"You had me dragged out of bed... What? You can't call like a normal person?"

Spencer actually laughs at this, tapping the partition between them and the driver. The car slowly starts to moving, gliding through the night like an unseen blade.

"Since when are either of us 'normal', Ashley? You are being over-dramatic. And just because we fuck doesn't mean you have some kind of special privilege with me. If I want you, for anything at all, I get you. Is that understood?"

Gone is the laughter. Only the iron remains.
Makes those blue eyes pop, but Ashley keeps that bit of knowledge to herself, for a myriad of reasons.

"So, as to why I have brought you here, I believe our working relationship has reached its end."

Ashley's arms slowly uncross and her eyebrows furrow in confusion.

"What do you-"
"As of today, you are going back to Aiden Dennison."

Yep, Ashley thinks, should have never gotten into this line of work.

/ / /

It's a great plan, really it is.

Of course, all plans have holes - those unknown elements, those variables that can ruin something gloriously devised.
But even if something goes wrong on the inside, Spencer has the outside covered.

Sure, spreading her grasp of power into Dennison's territory would be a major coup d'état.
But every sign points to Aiden Dennison being a greedy son of a bitch.
He might begin with platitudes that are charming, but it's like letting the snake get in your bed.

And Spencer Carlin is not one for snakes of any sort.

So, she agreed and she came off as bored - but compliant. And she'll be handing over Ashley Davies on a silver platter, which the prospect of this action seems to make Aiden Dennison as giddy as a school-girl.

Then her plan can take effect and she can watch it unfold and there will be that moment where her competition will be wiped out as quick as one can blink.

It's her speciality, after-all - the process of elimination, this act of nature rendered down to one woman.

And Aiden Dennison was stupid to forget such a fact.

/ /

Their eyes meet and Ashley wants to bolt so badly, the muscles in her legs pulled painfully tight and her hands already fists by her side.

Bad to worse, right? This is some fucking nightmare and I'll wake up soon... yea?

Spencer's touch is like ice, a cool hand on her elbow. And those two bodyguards that flank the blonde, silent statues.
They don't give a damn about what is going down. They just stare straight ahead.

Aiden looks the same as always.
Polished and preening, the most metro of metrosexual, suit and tie and too much aftershave.

"Ashley Davies, do my eyes deceive me?" He asks with a grin, casual stance but there is a wicked gleam in his gaze.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

"As promised, Dennison." Spencer says placidly, a small smile on her lips.

And Ashley hates those lips right now. Hates the fact that they have been all over her. Hates that she came upon them, more than once.

"I am most grateful. Truly."

That last word held some promise, the worst kind of promise. And Ashley does her best to refrain from looking too freaked out. It might not be working, though.
The grip on her elbow gets a little firmer and Ashley wants to jerk away, like she is offended.
And she is, but she doesn't know why.

Why does Ashley think she is anything more than an employee? Anything more than a fuck-buddy? Anything more than a body to Spencer Carlin?

I'm not. That's just it. I'm just a piece in this game and I'm about to become expendable.

Spencer motions for one of hired men and he comes over without question.

"Take her to the car to get her bag."

And then Spencer turns back to Aiden, who is still smiling like the damn Cheshire Cat.

"And this can conclude our first bit of business."

Spencer smiles and if Ashley wasn't so pissed off, so anxious, she might have noticed just how amazing cold that smile turned out to be.

But she is outside again, wishing she could run and knowing that if she tried it... Well, those guys might be big and seem lumbering, but they would chase her down.
And if they couldn't catch her, they'd just shoot her and Spencer could hang Ashley's head like a trophy on the wall.

"Boss said to look through your bag very carefully."

Ashley shoots an annoyed glare to the man.

"I don't work for Carlin anymore. So I don't give a shit if she wants me to look in this bag carefully... got it?"

He grabs a hold of her shoulder and gives it a strong squeeze. It's the kind of hold that could turn bones to dust. It's the kind of hold that Ashley has spent a long time trying to avoid.

"Just do as you are told, fire-bug."
"Fuck off, lap-dog."

But he doesn't let go and it starts to hurt and all her angry staring isn't working at all. So she unzips the bag and digs around, finding some clothing and... a toothbrush holder... a magazine... a bottle of hairspray...

"This isn't even my stuff."
"Boss packed it. Now c'mon."
"Oh, I thought I was supposed to look carefully? Right?"

She's being difficult and stalling for time. It's pointless. She knows this.
But if this is it - if she is to walk back in there and have Aiden Dennison destroy her, then she's got to get some kicks in, a few comments to last a lifetime.

Or to last the afterlife. Whichever comes first.

"Here's a clue, hot-shot."

And he pushes something very familiar into her hand, then starts dragging her back to Aiden's building.
She runs her fingers over the object, curious gears working in her mind, and her thumb fits so nicely against the metal grooves.

As always, it is a calming sensation.
Even now, with her possible demise just minutes away, even now this tiny thing is giving her a strange surge of confidence.

And the gears work, they turn and turn and they finally fit together as she is led back into a pretty little nest of vipers.
Aiden and his nasty grin. His boys in the background, just as blank as before.
Spencer's guys, quiet and motionless, hands behind their backs.

Then there is Spencer, hands comfortably in her pants pockets and leaning just a bit on her right foot, a serene face. A lovely damn face. Gorgeous, even, if Ashley were one to think on such things.

And Ashley stands there with a bag full of tricks.

And a lighter held fast in her hand.

Here's hoping I live long enough to use it.

/

All plans have flaws, though.

You can strive for perfection as much as you like, but it is rare that you can reach it.
Not with lessons. Not with grades.
Not with people. Not with relationships.

And certainly not with crime.

See, it's amusing, because crime is the one area of the world where working out every detail is important. It is the difference between ruling the roost and being a peon.
It is the difference between living and dying.

You can't fuck up in crime.
Fuck up and you find yourself fucked.
A simple rule to remember.

Spencer knows this rule very well. She's yet to break it in all this time.
That's why she is number one. That's why she is feared. That's why she is the queen of the underworld.

But she may walk around like a god, still, she isn't one.

And all plans have flaws.
Even good ones. Even great ones.

Even Spencer Carlin's plans can go wrong.

TBC