"I figured. They can be a bit much all together like that."
"Are they better individually?"
"Not really," I say with a smile.
"I was just afraid I was going to fall asleep. I hate inane talk about Botox and boarding schools. I get enough of that at photo shoots." We make our way to the hallway where the bathrooms are and socialites are not. Lexie sighs in relief as she leans against the wall and closes her eyes. "This is soooo much better. I hate these things. You need a lobotomy to get through them."
"Then why'd you come?"
"Same as you, probably. Support a good cause, network, meet new people, blah blah blah. I'm setting up a charity for battered women, building new shelters. Can't invite people to events and get their cash if I don't know them. Such is the price of being a decent human being."
"Well, count me in. I've seen firsthand how important shelters are."
She pulls out gum from her cherry purse and offers me a stick, which I take. "Yeah, you were a cop, right? Do you miss it?"
"When I have time. You miss Independence?"
"When I have time," she says with a smug smile. "I threw a hissy fit when Bren told me he wanted to move here. I was born and raised in Independence. All my friends, my family, my haunts, they're all there. I knew that city inside and out. And, I mean no offense by this, then to move to a war zone without a decent fashion scene…it's been an adjustment."
"The crime's not really as bad as the news would have you believe. Most ordinary citizens never come across a villain in their lives."
"Really?"
"Yeah," I say with a reassuring smile. "You're perfectly safe."
The sound of shattering glass and screaming women jolts me so bad I swallow my gum. Oh shit. Not good. The women continue wailing as if set on fire as Lexie and I round the corner of the hallway. Double shit. Four men in black tactical suits toting automatic weapons and one familiar woman rappel through the broken skylight while a helicopter hovers above. Triple shit.
Fucking KitKat. Wonderful. She's low on the villain food chain with no real powers to speak of. Mostly a thief but a damn good one, breaking into jewelry stores and museums. $500,000 this year alone. Her real claim to fame is being voted sexiest villain three years in a row. Easy to see why with a brown bustier and tight pants with claw marks across them encasing a curvy figure. Her orange hair hangs loose, obstructing the harlequin mask. The guests shriek and run around almost in circles out of blind terror. I'm so shocked I can barely process the whole scene. One of the henchmen lands a foot from Bitsy. She takes one look at the huge gun and faints dead away, head thumping hard on the floor.
Without thinking, and let's face it I rarely do, I dash over to my friend, just one of the many scurrying around in panic. The men move to the doors to block people from escaping as KitKat circles the room with a smile on her ruby red lips. I reach Bitsy and fall to my knees beside her. There's blood spewing from where she hit her head. I put pressure on it.
"Good afternoon, ladies," KitKat shouts over the mayhem. "Sorry to crash in. I know it's bad manners, but so is screaming, so shut up!" The henchmen at the main door points his gun at the ceiling and lets loose a barrage of bullets overhead. Everyone covers their ears and cowers, myself included. For a flash, I'm back on the hospital roof, bullets whizzing by my head as Alkaline's goons try to blow my brains out. The room falls silent except for a few whimpers. I'm trying my damnedest to stop trembling and calm my ragged breath. Not now. Don't you dare fall apart now, Jo. "Good! Now, if you'd all be so kind as to hand your jewelry and purses to my friends here, I'd be much obliged."
Dear God I hope Lexie is calling the police. As we all remove our trinkets with quaking hands, the men and KitKat quickly circle the room collecting them. Helena has trouble getting her five-carat emerald ring off, sobbing as she tugs on it. When the man reaches her, she's near hysterics. "It won't come off!" she cries.
He points the gun right at her forehead. "Get it off now!"
"I-I can't," she whimpers.
The man presses the barrel to her flesh. "Now!" he roars.
"Leave her alone!" someone with my voice shouts. My mouth closes, and I realize it was me. Oh, fuck.
All eyes, including KitKat's, swivel toward me. She smiles and saunters over to me, pistol in hand. "Well, well, well, look what the Kat's caught. Joanna fucking Fallon. This is my lucky day."
I can't take my eyes off the gun pointed a foot from my heart. "Just take the jewels and go. There's no need to scare or hurt anyone," I manage to say with authority. Inside I'm about to join Bitsy on the floor.