Killing Sarai

49

We arrive in Los Angeles just after six in the evening. We check into the most extravagant hotel the city has to offer and Victor is in character before we even make it up to our room on the top floor overlooking the cityscape. He demands, with his chin held high and his dominant demeanor that we get the best suite and will accept nothing less. And the front desk clerk, bewitched by his dark, flickering eyes, erases a reservation a guest had booked for tonight and gives Victor the keys to the suite. He is so good at pretending to be someone else that he almost tricks me into believing he’s a rich bastard who cares nothing for the people beneath him, who just so happens to be everyone. But he does it with so much grace and composure that his rich arrogant attitude doesn’t induce dislike for him, but instantly demands respect.

I’m seriously beginning to doubt my ability to act compared to his. I did it for nine years with Javier. My whole life was an act and I like to think I have enough experience, but Victor intimidates me.

I straighten my back and walk alongside him in my Valentino dress and flat sandals with my head held high. I am strong, powerful, rich, and I can’t be touched.

At least that’s what I hope I’m pulling off.

“It begins tonight,” Victor says setting his bags on the end of the bed and then he hangs a tall black garment bag with a zipper down the front on a hook on the wall. “If all goes as planned, it’ll end tomorrow night. You’ll need to wear make-up and pull up your hair. You have to look the part as well as play it. Oh, and put on the heels.” Flipping the latches on his gun case he retrieves one of his handguns and starts to attach a suppressor on the end of the barrel.

“What is the plan then?” I ask, ignoring my need to complain about the shoes he wants me to wear that I hope I can even walk in.

“Tonight we go to his restaurant,” he begins, still inspecting the gun. “Before we can get into the mansion, we’ll need an invitation and the restaurant is where we’ll get it. I’ll play my part and you play along as Izabel, not as Sarai. Remember that always when in public even when you think no one is watching.” He glances at me and goes back to inspecting the gun. “Hamburg is at this restaurant every Friday night like clockwork. But we’ll never see him. He hides out in a private room with two other men: his assistant and his restaurant manager. But Hamburg is always observant to what goes on in the restaurant. And he’s always assessing the guests. We may not see him, but it’s a certainty that he will see us.”

“Assessing them?”

Victor sets the gun on the bed and closes the case.

“Yes,” he says. “He’ll be looking for a couple. We need to make an impression.”

This is worrying me more by the second.

“Well, I’m sure there will be plenty of couples in a restaurant in L.A.” I meant for it to sound sarcastic, but he’s not fazed by it.

“Of course there will be,” he says. “But unlike everyone else in the restaurant, I know exactly what he’s looking for.”

He points to my bag. “Now get ready. We leave in half an hour.”

I pull out the make-up kit Ophelia included with all the clothing she gave me and take it into the bathroom. I’m kind of excited to wear it. I didn’t have such a luxury while with Javier except when he’d take me with him to the parties and such. And I always took my time putting it on because I wanted it to be perfect. I wanted to savor my only moment alone where I felt like an average teenage girl, standing in front of the mirror dolling myself up before another day at school. I always pretended that’s what I was getting ready for and I mastered making myself believe it. That was until Izel burst into the room uninvited and dragged me out by the arm because I was taking too long.