Eye Catching

She was like a shot of espresso, standing there in the corner. The kind of thing that crashed into your brain, making you sit up and pay attention. But, not for the reasons you might think.

Pretty girl, natural height accentuated by thin, strappy heels and a red qipao. Easy enough on the eyes, if one didn't bother looking past the pretty veneer. Doing that, even for a moment, would start to show cracks in the façade.

Meaning that when I was done with my momentary glance at her better features, I looked deeper. With the set of her shoulders, the way her weight was spread on those flagrantly impractical shoes, and how she carried her hands, I knew she was a fighter. Not dressed for best performance, but rather to distract.

But, distract from what? I didn't know her; the woman's face or description had never come up in my case. But I did know that, despite her best efforts to appear to the contrary, she did not belong.

Given her height, shoes included, I could guess that she was stood there to have the best view of the room. Meaning she was on watch for something, but as to what that could be I couldn't guess.

I flowed in time with the writhing crowd on the dancefloor. Music thundering in my ears and the stink of bodies and alcohol burning my nose. Having a drink or two might have been nice, just enough to take the edge off the painful surroundings. But, I had a job to do.

Sadly, focus is all important in my line of work. I've no idea how the old school detectives managed to do so much constantly on the sauce. But, maybe that was just how they had trained themselves to function. Besides, most of their opponents had been constantly toasted too.

Either way, I needed to go and talk to that woman. If my information for this job was right, then she was exactly who I was looking for. And, if I watched her just long enough... her eyes would return most frequently to the thing she's guarding. Perfect.

Deciding on the direct approach, I drifted into the crowd and filtered across the dancefloor until I was close enough to say, "salutations, is Charlotte in?"

A guard, not an actor. And I revised my thought about her being a distraction. No one whose job was to draw attention, or distract it, would stand like that in that place. I maintained my distance, speaking to her over the constant roar of the music and patrons, never once looking like I was interested in her at all.

Important to have things like that. Someone might remember me hitting on her, or at least, seeming to. But no one would question a few friendly words, going by my face, to a wall flower. Especially not if she answered correctly and quickly and I could shove off.

The code word "Charlotte" made her visibly reexamine the stupid opening word. Instead of rebuffing me, or starting to make a scene, she nodded up. I glanced at the balcony and smiled. Sometimes gambles pay off. Sometimes the bribes do come in useful.

Having never appeared to be trying to get her attention, I let the crowd's currents take me towards the stairs. Whoever "Charlotte" was, their security needed some leaks plugged.

Slipping the stiletto blade out of my sleeve, I climbed the stairs, stumbling a little to carry the illusion of being drunk. Time to earn my salary.