The Deceiver

The wooden floors creaked under my boots as I weaved through the crowded pub. Everyone seemed to steal a glance at me, and I forced my eyes not to roll in disgust. Walking past the filled tables I took my seat at the bar and nodded towards the bartender. The tall male filled a small crystal glass with amber colored liquid, and slid it down the counter in my direction. I smiled before throwing the fiery liquid back. The rim of the glass was stained with a deep purple print of my lips. 

Scouring the pub I looked for my next target. I dragged my gaze over the men and women playing cards at the table on my right, past the sleeping man, until I found my next victim. My green eyes glazed over the woman drinking alone.

Lovely.

Smirking to myself, I made my way over to the dark corner. The woman’s features slowly came into view, her high cheekbones and arched brows rose at the empty glass between her fingers. I groaned and circled back to the bar, ordering two more shots of whiskey. 

The bartender poured two more glasses and handed them to me, “Don’t go too hard on her.”

I ignored him and tossed my raven hair over a shoulder before heading in her direction. The woman was sitting still, a prisoner of her own thoughts, making the perfect target. As I approached the table, the woman stared at me through her thick lashes.

“May I sit?”

She nodded her head so I slid into the chair beside her leaving enough space for her to feel comfortable. I handed her the glass, “You looked lonely and in dire need of some girl talk.”

That put a smile on the woman’s face, “I’m Elena.”

“Vespa.”

Her eyes roamed my body with curiosity before landing on my tattooed arms, “Nice ink.”

I rotated my arms allowing her to see the full extent of the artwork, “Thanks, I have had tons of work done over the years.”

She leaned back in her chair, visibly comfortable. It was my job to analyze her body language, find her at her most vulnerable moment, and prey on it. 

Perfect.

“Do they mean anything to you?”

I smiled, “I am a mix of stories and memories. When opportunity seizes and I connect with an artist, I let them have creative freedom. They explain later what the tattoo means to them or in general.” The lies drip from my lips, thick like honey. 

Amazement crawled into her pupils, “That’s amazing.”

We talked about surface level stories and memories before I went in for the plunge. I could tell I gained her trust when she leaned in forward and snapped a picture of us both. 

I allowed my deep purple lips to curve upwards in a smile, “So what’s your story? Why are you alone here?”

She pondered for a moment before downing the drink and taking the bait thus spilling her life story to me with her head in her palms. I scoot closer towards her and hug her as she began to cry. 

I wasn’t listening to the poor girl but she looked at me with tear stained cheeks, “Why doesn’t he want me?”

God, this again. 

It was truly pathetic after witnessing eight other girls do the exact routine, but their patheticness made me rich. Well rich was a stretch, but comfortable. 

“He doesn’t deserve you, Elena. You are too good.” Another lie. 

I turned to hug her, slipping my hand in the pocket of her jacket. I grabbed her phone and deleted the picture of us both before sticking it in my pocket. The bartender eyed me, shaking his head to himself, disappointment and pride coated his face. I held the crying girl and grinned at him from behind her turned back. I stuck my tongue out playfully as I ran a supportive hand down her back. 

After a while she stopped rambling and I offered to call her a car so she could leave safely. I walked her outside and handed her her fur lined coat. As the car drove away I tossed the stolen watch in the air before catching it and slipping it on my wrist. The other stolen items remained in my pockets. I walked back into the pub and bumped into a man, taking his phone without him noticing. 

“Excuse me, I didn’t see you there beautiful.”

I took a step back and gasped softly as if I hadn’t meant to bump into him. 

“No worries. I’m Vespa.”

He smirked, “Nathaniel.”

Without so much as a thought he instinctively wrapped a finger around a strand of my dark hair, “Dyed?”

I based  my response on the women he spent ogling at the crowded bar, I lied, “Nope, naturally red.”

His eyes light up, “Red? My favorite color.”

I hummed a response before excusing myself, stealing more cash as I slithered past him. 

I had lied my way through life. I was a thief and a liar, but I learned to love every second of it. Twisting my truths so they could bend into what others wanted to hear so I could gain what I needed. I was a master manipulator, using people’s vulnerability against themselves for my benefit. I indulged in the lies and reaped the benefits.  

That was all until one day late in the fall, that every lie I had ever told came true. My naturally raven hair shifted to a coppery red. My tattoos swirled, morphing to how the artists’ would have preferred them. Day after day I was reminded of every lie I had ever told. My parents died in a car accident a few months after and I loathed myself for lying to the old woman at the park. It was all for a luxury watch, that I hadn’t even resold. I woke one morning in a modern apartment with silver appl;iances and no color instead of the studio home I had owned. I was thrown to my knees left at my own mercy. I hadn’t known it before, but I was my worst enemy.