by Patsy Collins
Melissa's thoughts followed the guy wearing jeans as he rode the escalator. Just a normal guy; the type she wanted and could never have. While under the protection of Billy, Melissa couldn't have anything; not even hope.
“What you waiting for?” Billy demanded. His sharp tone matched his smart suit. “You forgotten the plan?”
“No, Billy. I act like we're in love. We follow Fingers an' Baz into the jeweller's an' look at pricey rings. I pick the flashiest an' try it on, then flash 'em me assets. Then I faints. Baz'll act shifty, distracting those as ain't lookin' at me an' Fingers grabs the loot.”
“Good girl, Cupcake.”
“It's not though, is it? Good, I mean.”
“You got a better plan?”
“Would you listen if I had?”
“'Course not. Girls ain't no good at planning. Don't worry yoursel' though Cupcake. Just do as Billy says an' we'll be going up in the world.”
They rode the escalator, passing the beauticians. Melissa glanced in.
“No point, Cupcake. They ain't got nothing worth stealing.”
Melissa once stole herself away from Billy. He found her. Re-educated her where the bruises wouldn't spoil her usefulness as a decoy.
In the jewellers Melissa simpered and fainted.
Outside they divided the loot. The dazzling gems didn't impress Melissa. The flash of a shield did.
“Billy Morgan, you're going down,” the police officer said. He pulled handcuffs from his jeans pocket.
“You' ain't the only one with a plan, Billy,” Melissa explained. “Mine's witness protection.”