Birthright

On a vicious pair of heels, Shauna stood in the dim light of the public restroom and studied her reflection. She saw a tall twenty-seven-year-old with carrot red hair, freckles, a snub nose, and blue eyes, the lashes spiked with mascara. One cheek bulged with an ice cube sucked from her highball glass. She leaned closer to apply lip gloss. Her breath fogged the mirror, one puff from her nose, another from her pursed mouth. She was sexy rather than pretty; that realization had come late in her teens. There was a niche market for redheads but bold sexual availability appealed broadly. She straightened and capped her lip gloss. Stowed it in a clutch purse.

Shauna was a thief. She had learned from a series of bad influences, some pedaling coke, others jewels, sex, timeshares, expensive watches, celebrity company. In her early twenties, she became an asset of a group of like-minded people, helmed by a woman named Saoirse who called once or twice a week and told Shauna what to steal. Sometimes she delivered the property; other times she converted it to cash first. The threat of jail time was real, but she couldn’t imagine another life. She was a woman who appreciated a rapid pulse, a stress sweat, a quick dash from a hotel room. Even the feel of her finger on a trigger appealed. She had pulled it three times. Blood, like anything, lost its shock value after a while.

She fluffed her hair, adjusted the spaghetti straps of her dress, and left the vanity.

Outside, the cocktail lounge bustled with people. Where others saw a dip of cleavage, the clean lines of a sharp suit, Shauna saw a diamond tennis bracelet, a bulging wallet, a Rolex, a pair of unattended car keys. She didn’t want money. She wanted a challenge. She kept looking.

[Thread: Open to Isaac]