Burning Moth

Chapter Four, Part One - Dearly Departed

"Give a girl her first Manolos, and she can conquer the world."

I studied myself in Chloe's bedroom mirror, pretending what she had just said was true. If anybody could fake it till they made it, it was me.

Tonight, I was a pretty socialite–on her way to fool a few members of the upper crust, solve her problems with the Dixons ninja-style, and maybe end the night slaying a Chuck Bass or two. If that wasn't possible in this getup, nothing was.

Chloe's re-gift was a tender tribute from a deep-pocketed client–a Josef Statkus dress that felt like satin and moved like water. I smoothed the garment down my hips, admiring the fabric– black, sheer lace in a retro flower pattern, fitted over a matching silk slip. It was short, and slinky, paired with stilettos so expensive they could dance on their own. For once, I looked–

"Classy." My reflection gave a saucy wink.

Ten minutes later I'm in the front seat of Chloe's Benz, cruising with the top down. We bumped to pop radio, old times on repeat, lyp syncing the words to our favorite songs. At a red light, we got the go-ahead from a schmuck in a white Charger. He lowered his tinted window and revved the engine, a thirty-something putz with too much money and confidence for his own good, who had just rolled up on a car of young Robin Hoods.

Chloe hopped from the Benz, lipstick in hand, and wrote her number on his windshield– save the last two digits. I shared a chuckle with the guy in the Dodger, shaking my head at my friend as she slid into her seat. The light turned green and she left him in her dust.

"One of these days, that bad behavior is gonna catch up to you, Missy."

"Oh, please." Chloe snorted. "That was cupcakes compared to what we used to do..."

She wasn't lying. Back in the day, the dick in the Charger was my favorite kind of victim –rich, and unsuspecting. Chloe would've rolled down the window and caught him by the lips, while I snuck from her car to his, relieving him of any valuables. It was get rich-quick schemes like this that put the down payment on my apartment, and footed Aidan's debt when he gambled away his part of the light bill.

Though I wasn't always proud of it, I was a master at repping the low life.

"Babe, if you take the high road, you don't stand a chance against the Dixons," said Chloe. "That family eats good girls for breakfast--so don't even think about going soft on me."

"I'm not going soft." I grabbed her Ray Bands from the dash, slipping them on and primping my curls. "I'm just... being a little more careful. It's something Nicholias won't expect."

You're brave, and maybe a little reckless, but you're not stupid...

Nicholias' words still rang in my head. He took me serious, but not enough; after tonight, he wouldn't make that mistake again.

Really, if I were as soft as he and Chloe suggested, Aidan never would have left our apartment that evening, dressed in his best for a night with the Dixons, under the impression I would blaze my way through a bag of mini donuts until I crashed in front of the television. He wouldn't see me coming, and if I played my cards right, neither would Alphabet Boy.

Chloe avoided a fruitless search for parking by ditching the car a few blocks from the Fairway. We strutted the pavement like this was Vogue and we were in London, swaggered out in leather jackets and party dresses. Chloe walked just ahead, landing the lead by a fraction while I scored gazes by the mile. Together, we parted the sidewalk like the Red Sea, and owned it like the red carpet. Chloe reached out and nipped a boy's hat, planting the fedora on her head. He opened his mouth in protest, but had a change of heart when I gave him The Smile.