Elizabeth arrived at the salon promptly at two. Amidst Jon's flurry of air kisses and excessive chattering, he snatched the bag of custard-filled bribes from her hands, ushered her to the special clientele only section and directed her to sit.
For the next two and a half hours, every square inch of her body was plucked, waxed, exfoliated, shaped, or coiffed. Not once was she able to see or question what he was doing, but that wasn’t for the lack of trying.
At long last, the big reveal came with a single word, “Ready?”
With a turn of the chair, she was facing the mirror and it took a few moments to realize this was actually her. Her lackluster brown locks were now a stunning shade of ash blonde with subtle highlights throughout. All the earlier puffiness from crying and lack of sleep were gone, giving way to long-lashed, dramatically shadowed green eyes and an almost flawless complexion.
“Whateva you got planned for tonight, honey, you’re so gonna knock them friggin’ dead,” Jon cooed, taming a stray hair lying across her forehead.
“Yeah, knock them dead,” Elizabeth parroted, as her gaze remained on her reflection. It wasn’t out of conceit but in utter amazement.
For the first time in her life, she actually felt beautiful. Although she wasn’t exactly ugly, she never thought of herself anything beyond, at the most, cute.
Well, until now.
With a quick hand, Jon added a few last minute touch-ups before escorting her to the front. There, she was met with further cooing and flattery, while she waited for a cab to take her shopping on Newbury Street.
Over the next few hours, a steady stream of nauseatingly cheerful sales associates displayed an endless array of clothing, shoes, and the like. When Elizabeth had enough, and with only two hours to spare until she heard from her contact, she made her way to her interim apartment in the North End.
With a jolt, the cab abruptly stopped in front of a non-descript, five-story brick building. While she stood on the snowy sidewalk, the driver hurriedly retrieved the numerous shopping bags and her carry-on from the trunk. Elizabeth grabbed her bags and proceeded inside, leaving behind the mingled robust smells of the local cuisine and cab exhaust.
While passing through the lobby, she admired the striking décor: contemporary furniture and fixtures, complementary brick walls, and exposed wooden beams before taking the elevator to the fifth floor and making her way to apartment four.
From the moment she entered, Elizabeth marveled at the open-floor plan, high wooden ceilings with trendy exposed ductwork, further brickwork, and three six-foot windows.
As impressive as the building’s lobby, the décor in the apartment was in a neutral palette with splashes of dramatic vermilion accents. The kitchen showcased granite countertops and stainless steel appliances, while the living room was simply breathtaking furnished with an overstuffed leather sectional sofa flanked by mahogany end tables and an enormous flat screen TV mounted on the adjacent wall. Exploring further, she walked past the living room into the two rooms sectioned off by two three-quarter walls.
The bedroom was elegant; it too was decorated with more mahogany furnishings, and set in the center of the room was a wrought-iron four-poster bed adorned with lavish bedding and pillows in rich vermilion and dark turquoise.
The bathroom was just as luxurious, particularly the vintage claw-foot tub which instantly provoked in Elizabeth an image of her surrounded by fragrant bubbles while indulging in champagne and chocolate dipped strawberries. This idea completely caught her off guard; she was totally not the lounging or indulging type. What’s more, she had a job to do, and recreating scenes from Pretty Woman was not included in the job description.
Dismissing that thought from her mind, Elizabeth exited the bathroom, retrieved her bags, unpacked, and carefully laid out her outfit. After much consideration, she decided on a crimson cocktail dress that ended slightly above the knee with a bodice featuring crisscross detailing on the front and back paired with a stylish pair of black two-inch stilettos. This done, she decided to take another tour.
Her awe still hadn’t dissipated the second time around. Sure, she hadn’t exactly been put up in dumps during her other assignments, but none of those places ever could contend with this splendor.
Obviously, this apartment was chosen for location and a perfect cover if the extremely selective members of Concentrico decided to research her background further. No doubt this was costing the bureau a pretty penny. She added this to the long list of reasons why she was determined not to let them down.
While waiting for her contact, Elizabeth stood by the window trying to take in her new surroundings and the layout of the neighborhood. In spite of her view, it was difficult to make out much, given the darkened sky and scattered street lights offering little light to the deserted street below.
In the silence of the loft, her mind started to wander. All last night, she’d gone over the file relentlessly. Nonetheless, each review had sparked more questions than answers, and every lead went nowhere.
Why these nine? Were they chosen, or did they just happen to be at the wrong place at the wrong time? What did—
Elizabeth was shaken from her thoughts by her newly acquired cell phone’s shrill ring slicing through the quiet.
“This is Buffy.” Elizabeth instinctively used her alias. There was far too much at stake for any slip ups of someone calling her by the wrong name.
“Hey, this is Quinn. Ready to shake things up tonight?”
No matter how long she’d lived in this city, when she heard someone’s distinct, non-rhotic accent, the old saying, “Park your car in Harvard yard” or the Bostonian way of, “Pahk yah cah in Hahvad yahd,” always popped in her head and made her smile. Buffy pushed aside her wandering thoughts and focused on the conversation. Then without missing a beat, she responded, emulating Quinn’s relaxed and upbeat nature.
“Totally, I can’t wait to get in there. We still meeting up at nine?”
“Yeah, let’s meet out front. Oh, I’ll be wearing that hot, little black number and those strappy silver stilettos we picked out the other day. Well, I gotta finish getting ready, bye!”
Then with a click, Quinn was gone. Buffy hit the ‘end’ button, slid the phone into her clutch, and headed off to get ready.
At a quarter till nine, Buffy exited the cab and approached Concentrico. The surrounding area was eerily deserted, all except for a couple bustling by and a man, dressed head to toe in black, standing in front of the small alleyway separating her objective from the adjacent building. As she drew near, Buffy felt a heavy sense of dread creeping along her spine.
There was something really amiss here and come hell or high water, she was intent on figuring out what it was.
Just as her nose and toes were feeling the effects of Jack Frost, she heard a high-pitched, womanly squeal off to her left. Instinctively, Buffy turned and assumed a defensive stance. In spite of her FBI training and the screechy warning, she still wasn’t prepared for a bubbly buxom woman’s arms wrapping around her.
“Oh my god, lady! I’ve missed you so much!”
Quickly shaking off her initial shock, Buffy recognized Quinn’s voice and in an effort to play her part of the close friend, she returned the hug. In spite of their unfamiliarity, Buffy couldn’t resist instantly melting into the other woman’s embrace, her body seeking the closeness of another. This was an intimate act she’d long denied herself.
All too soon, Quinn released her, and together they sauntered over toward the man guarding the alley. He stepped forward menacingly; his imposing height and grim features spoke volumes, though he never said a word.
“Rick, she’s with me. Check inside, they’re expecting us.” Quinn’s tone was firm, yet still held its friendliness.
Without a word, Rick fixed his steely gaze on them and pressed two fingers against the small device nestled snugly in his ear. When it appeared he’d received an answer, he lowered his hand and stepped aside. In spite of his massive hands, he deftly lifted the brass hook and released the velour rope, allowing them to pass. While passing by, Quinn threw him a thousand-watt smile and a wink then headed into the alley.
Here we go.
Buffy watched as Quinn was instantly swallowed up by the darkness before dutifully following behind.