The Don's Cursed Outcast

Tonight was the night, the night Melody would place her life on the line one more time. The only difference was that this time she would not be stealing money, food supplies or mid ranged jewelry. No, tonight she would be walking into a room full of men and guns alike. Guns ready to pump it's bronze and silver pallets into her if she made one single miscalculation. She had never seen her target with her own naked eyes before, but she had seen the red beryl he wore on his neck on countless news pamphlets and papers. The red beryl, the gem that symbolized the power of the kingpin's order, the checkmate of the mafia union, the most prized possession of a Forraine. One item that would change her life altogether and all she needed was to have it in her possession. The gong went off and she fixed her mask in place, everything she had on was stolen or as she'd like to term it 'temporarily borrowed without permission'. For example, she had taken the long blonde wig from a pregnant Alderman's wife when the woman was about to go into labor. She must've done well by the woman a favour, a well made wig as such as that didn't deserve to crumpled up during the turmoil of pregnancy screams and thrashes. She had taken the dress in the late hours of the night before, tactically picking the lock of the boutique shop and making away with the merchandise, including the glassy-crystalline heels. The only thing that hadn't been stolen had been the makeup and the flat box of black eye contacts, she always had them on her to conceal her physical flaws. The gong went off the second time and she stepped in from behind the curtains and onto the stage. She was greeted with complete silence from a wholesome number of men in black, and she didn't need a soothsayer to know that tucked away in their suits and coats were all sorts of blades and bullet pumping mechanisms. Her crystalline heels clicked against the ground as she moved across the polished floor with grace, her borrowed dress flowing around her like a cloud. As she took her stand in the center of the stage, the music began flowing from the compact disc (CD). Her hips swayed to the sides and her limbs moved in the air, effortlessly, charismatically and sharp. The music and the dance style had immediately caught the audience's attention and the sounds of palms striking against each other and the clashing of cups soon filled the air. She had drawn in their attention, good. The next step was to locate her target. There sat Michael Forraine at the back of the room despite it being his birthday event. Her heart thudded against her chest as her eyes located it, sitting beautifully on his clothed neck, gleaming like the treasure that it was. She felt like snatching it off his neck already which if she tried, would earn her a speeding train to the afterlife. So, she had to follow her plan thoroughly, reel him in, maintain his attention, and then, get close to him. Michael leaned away from his chair with his chin resting on his palm, his cognac coloured eyes focusing on the woman dancing on the stage. He had come across many performers over the years, both amateurs and professionals that quite frankly could dance better than her, but none of them had ever attempted to dance to this song. It was a song that told the story of a line, his line. It was a song that rang it's rhythm to the beat of each heart and it's flair equipped to the adrenaline that coursed through the veins of a frightened man running from death. To some people, it would appear to be a dark dance, but her.....with one delicate flutter of her hands in the air and an intentional sway of her hips- she made the beats seem to be more than what they truly were. Melody accidentally locked eyes with Michael at that moment and her lips curled into a smirk behind her mask. The energy in the atmosphere heightened and she found herself taking slow bold strides down from the stage and towards his direction. Immediately, the men around him were on high alert, standing up and removing the weapons they had gently tucked away in their pockets with their expressions doing a full one hundred and eighty degree turn. She slightly tensed up and for a moment the thought of returning back to the stage and coming up with another approach crossed her mind. 'But there was no other approach'. It was either this or she let Nana die, Whatever god or goddess out there forbid that she let that happen. That old woman was her lifeline, Herself be damned if she let this opportunity to save Nana slip away from her fingers. Michael watched as the woman approached him despite the many guns of his men pointed in her direction. It was a known rule that the entertainers weren't supposed to approach their audience one on one. So, for this woman to willingly break the rule then it meant that she was crossing a very thick silver lining. "Halt" His voice vibrated in her ears as he leaned back into his chair and sat upright. The beryl on his neck gliding across his turtle neck wear as his mask covered face tilted backwards. She stopped in her tracks trying as much as possible to maintain her confidence and aura, she couldn't afford to give anything away. His men put their guns down and Melody turned her head to see that Michael had placed his own handgun on the table beside him. Crap, it was a semi automatic pistol, a rare, lethal and luxurious firearm, the desert eagle. 50 AE. Michael's lips tilted upwards as he recognized familiarity in the black eyes behind her mask. She knew very well the workings of his firearm, well, everyone in and out of Asheville did. Melody wasn't afraid before, but now she could feel cold sweat break out on her back, trickling across her scarified skin. She felt like her tummy was doing flips that engaged her heart as well. She had been caught at a crossroads now. Everyone's eyes were on her and she could feel it, especially Michael Forraine's. But she was Melody Costello, she had lived each day of her life looking danger in the eye and damning the odds every single day. And today, today would be no different. ------- The woman squatted in front of him and looked up, intentionally fluttering her lashes. "Entertainment for the birthday boy," Melody whispered, trying to make her voice sound as sultry as she could. Her voice was a little on the fairly deep side and she had to force it to sound light by all means, the same way she had seen the over privileged airhead bimbo's do to lure titled men into their arms. "And who said I wanted private entertainment from any of tonight's performers?" Michael spoke, making her look up to realize that although she was of good height, he literally loomed over her like those forbidden towers in children's storybooks. "This is just a little token arranged by the town for you, a skilled performer such as myself sent to perform one of the Forraine's most historical dances in front of a Forraine himself" Michael's eyebrows raised upwards by an inch as he saw her eyes quickly flicker to the heirloom that hung on his neck and then.......to his face. "Pray tell dancer, if you fail to entertain me correctly as per my birthday gift instructed by the town for you to deliver unto me, what will be your punishment?" Melody paused for a second, racking her brain to quickly produce something. "I'd lose my job" "Lies" she heard him call out, his eyes reflecting amusement behind his huge white plastic mask. "This town literally worships me, if they sent you to please me and you failed, then your penalty will be a lot worse than just merely losing your job. Taking into cognisance just how brutal Asheville can be" Melody scoffed inwardly, so he knew how brutal Asheville could be huh?. She shouldn't have taken it as anything, he was one of the people that contributed to that so-called brutality after all. "In that case Mr Forraine" she stood up straight and crawled into his lap, preparing for another native dance that was slightly more of a sensual origin. "I'd be making history tonight" He was taken by surprise and that was something that rarely happened to him in the recent days, with a cryptic gesture he signaled his men to lock all the exits. Melody was not aware of this. "And what if you fail, Miss performer?" He asked, a smile playing at the corner of his lips with his head slightly tilting to the side. Melody bit her lip, maintainingi her sultry act as her eyes roamed over his figure beneath her, he was every bit of what he was physically described as. Of course he had to be, famous crime bosses like him often lured women in with their looks. A small delight creeped into her eyes. Now, she was the one luring him in. Now, she was the one that would steal his jewel. Now, she was the predator and he was the prey. "When I embark on a challenge in more ways than one....." she whispered wrapping her covered hands around his neck, "I make sure that I never fail" After the words left her lips, it was then she heard the thud of the main door being bolted. She frantically looked around and realized that few of his men had silently been sealing the exits one after the other. She panicked and instinctively proceeded to slide off his legs when she felt the cold muzzle of his handgun press directly against the side of her neck, right where her external jugular vein was.