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    AvatarGoodBoy Jchrist
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    SMOKE AND MIRROR Royal Angel 2

    SMOKE AND MIRROR
    Royal Angel I

    ? Episode 2

    ? “Mr. Tall, dark and handsome”

    ✍️ Written by Jchrist (Africa Good Boy)

    __________________________________________
    ?️ Victoria POV

    My target is kinda hot.
    I smiled as I picked up the tray and headed
    to
    the kitchen. Handsome men were so hard
    to
    come by with my job. Whistling, I ziplocked
    the two coffee cups and put them in my
    waitress apron.
    Oh, I wasn’t really a waitress. (Not a creepy
    stalker either.)
    Speaking of creeps.
    “Hey there, kitty cat.” The barista behind
    the
    counter chuckled. The guy was neither
    sweet
    nor cute, so when he leered down my
    modest
    white blouse, I had to resist the urge to
    punch
    him.
    In the nuts. With brass knuckles.
    Instead, I gave him a sweet smile. “How’s
    it
    going?” Mr. Douche.
    “Good, good.” He ran a hand through his
    hair.
    Yeah, baby. Dandruff is super sexy. ” When
    did
    you start working here? I didn’t see you sign
    in
    this morning.”
    “I came in early.” Okay, I was a good liar,
    but
    for what it’s worth, I could’ve said “I’m a
    pretty
    mermaid” and he wouldn’t have blinked.
    Not
    when his eyes were still on my boobs.
    “Eyes
    up here, soldier.”
    “Hehe.” More dandruff dislodgement. “Sorry
    about that.”
    I don’t think the moron knew what sorry
    meant.
    Pity. I’d have to educate him.
    Hey,” I said, fluttering my eyelids and
    swaying
    my hips a little. “I spilt some coffee on my
    apron. I’m so clumsy. I forgot where the
    washroom is?”
    Yeah, because I have the IQ of a suckling
    pig
    and I’m too retarded to read well placed
    signs, I
    wanted to add.
    I let my knight in shining armour show me
    where the little girl’s room was. Turning
    around, I made a show of bumping into
    him.
    “I-I’m so sorry. I just wanted to say thank
    you.”
    “Why, you’re welcome.” I swear I heard him
    mutter püssy cat as he walked away.
    I rolled my eyes and locked the washroom
    door behind me. Men .
    There was a black duffel bag in one of the
    stalls. I’d stashed it in here earlier. I placed
    the
    apron with the cups inside it and stripped.
    It took me about two minutes to change
    into a
    blue cocktail dress and take off my blonde
    wig. I redid my makeup, going hard on the
    contouring and smokey eyes.
    I was proud to say I looked like a stripper
    minus the heels.
    The walk through the cafe earned me a few
    indecent stares. Mr. Douche’s car keys were
    in
    my left hand. All I had to do was go to the
    parking lot, unlock his old rust bucket Chevy
    and drive to my apartment.
    That’s the Oxford definition of “sorry”, as in,
    “sorry, I might have stolen your car”.
    Dear Mr. Douche, never trust a clumsy
    püssy
    cat . Glad to have furthered your education.
    The minute I got home, I was almost
    knocked
    over at the door by a little red head.
    “Did you find him? Do you know who he
    was?
    How old was he? Was he cute-”
    My sister didn’t any waste time.
    “It wasn’t a date, Ira.” I told her, flopping
    down
    on the couch. My apartment wasn’t fancy,
    though it certainly could’ve been. White
    walls,
    a fold out couch, a coffee table, two
    mattresses. That was about it.
    Ira arched a perfect brow. “So he wasn’t
    cute?”
    “No.” I told her, thinking back to the man in
    the black suit. Danny, his friend had called
    him. My target had crystal blue eyes, black
    longish hair and a jawline that could cut
    diamonds
    He honestly wasn’t cute.
    He was hot. Make-your-panties-catch-fire
    hot.
    Yet this was my brain’s assessment. This
    is
    what normal females feel about him , it told
    me.
    The rest of me was awfully quiet about all
    this.
    Guess that made me an abnormal female.
    Go
    figure.
    “Details.” Ira quipped, annoyed when I
    didn’t
    say much.
    “It’s not a date.” I repeated. “I was just
    scoping out the target.”
    She gave my borderline slütty outfit a once
    over, skeptical. “Right.”
    “Alibi” I explained, rolling my eyes. “If this
    blows up in my face tomorrow, I want the
    people in the cafe to remember I was
    there.”
    As the bîtch in blue rather than the waitress.
    “Oh, that won’t happen. We’ll be fine.” Ira
    replied, absently. It was her standard
    response
    every time I talked about ‘negative’
    situations.
    “So do you know who he is?”
    I shook my head and gave her the ziplock
    bag,
    smiling a little. Funny, but if there was ever
    a
    tall, dark, handsome stranger –
    “Ha!” Ira punched the air, triumphantly. “I
    knew
    it. Does he have a nice äss?”
    Did I just say that out loud? Fantastic.
    “Very. Very . Nice äss.” I said, a little
    exasperated. Anything to get her to work
    faster. “Now please find out who it belongs
    to.”
    Irahooked up her laptop to a DNA sensor.
    She
    snapped on some gloves and picked up a
    cotton swab.
    “Which cup is Somerhalder’s?
    “Somerhalder?”
    “Ian Somerhalder. The email from the client
    said Blue eyes, black hair and you said he
    has
    a fine äss. Hence operation Ian.”
    “The red one.” I said, shaking my head. My
    sweet little sister was watching too much
    TVD.
    Ira took it out and swiped the rim of the
    cup,
    repeating the swipe on the sensor. I had to
    admit I’d been a little stingy about giving
    her
    the hundred grand she needed to buy the
    thing.
    Now I wonder how I ever did my job without
    it.
    What is my Oh-so-mysterious job, you ask?
    It was a simple three step process.
    1) My clients sent me a name or
    description.
    2) I found the target.
    3) The target ended up in the bottom of the
    sea.
    It was the family business. I didn’t ask any
    questions and I didn’t care so long as I got
    the money.
    Ira was searching for a match across
    federal
    and state databases. I guess I knew that it
    wouldn’t turn up anything.
    Which was why I’d put a microtracker on
    his
    blonde friend. Remember when I came back
    to
    the table and got snapped at by Mr. High
    and
    Mighty for no reason? Yeah, his friend had
    even smiled at me right before I attached it
    to
    his sleeve.
    It kinda made me feel bad. Kinda.
    Yeah, yeah, I know. I’m a terrible person.
    I told Ira about it and she brought up the
    screen. And ladies and gentlemen, we have
    a
    winner. A red dot immediately popped up. It
    was moving heading toward the docks.
    I got up and began packing my – items. By
    items, I mean a variety of sharp objects. I
    worked best with guns, but there was
    something special about sharp cold metal
    that
    made me feel safer.
    Ira wasn’t too happy. “Do you really have to
    kill
    him, V?”
    “You know how this works, sweetie.”
    “Let me come with you-”
    “No.” She was too young for this.
    “I want to see Ian.” She gave me her best
    puppy dog eyes. “You know, before you kill
    him.”
    I smiled, as I changed into a black leather
    suit.
    “Honey, for ten million dollars, I bet you can
    have dinner with the real Ian.”
    ***

    Victoria : “I’M PRETTY SURE IAN WANTS
    YOU TO
    PRESS THAT LIKE BUTTON. SO DO IT. LIKE,
    RIGHT
    NOW AND INVITE YOUR FRIENDS TOO.”

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    #1403548 Reply
    HenrymaryHenrymary
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    Ride on pls

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    #1403558 Reply
    AvatarThecomely
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    Fire on

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    #1403566 Reply
    Chief RoesChief Roes
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    should i sit for this ?

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    #1403567 Reply
    Chief RoesChief Roes
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    LINK TO PART ONE THIS IS 2

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    #1403573 Reply
    AvatarGoodBoy Jchrist
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    @roes just click on numbers on top to enter any pages

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    #1403575 Reply
    AvatarGoodBoy Jchrist
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    @thecomely
    thanks for the info earlier… please can you help me invite friends to read?

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    #1403582 Reply
    AvatarGoodBoy Jchrist
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    Episode 3

    “Dirty, broken or both?”

    Written by Jchrist (African Good Boy)

    ________________________________________
    Xavier POV

    “I’d call this a rat hole.” Daniel said. “But I
    think the rats would take offence.”
    I rolled my eyes, glaring at him. Okay, my
    apartment wasn’t exactly The Ritz, but it had
    four walls and a roof. (Yes, they had holes and
    they were grimy. Bite me.)
    The beauty of this place was that this was a
    neighbourhood that literally gave zero fücks
    about you. While nobody would come running
    if they heard gunshots, at least they didn’t nose
    around your business.
    Plus, the landlord had thrown in a slightly
    clean pillow.
    Wasn’t that good enough?
    “On second thought, your highness should wait
    by the door.” I said, tossing fake IDs into my
    backpack. “We wouldn’t want to get them nails
    dirty.”
    Danny punched my arm. I expected him to say
    “I did have them manicured today” by the looks
    of them.
    I didn’t bother taking the few clothes I had left.
    I honestly didn’t care about my stuff here –
    everything was dirty, broken or both.
    Well, there was one thing I really needed.
    Daniel was now examining the broken lamp,
    sitting cross legged on the mattress. “Love the
    decor. Shîtty is very in this season.”
    “Move.” I just said, ignoring him.
    “On the upside, you’ll never need wallpaper.
    Dust bunnies got you covered.” He said, trying
    to unscrew the bulb. “Why should I move-?”
    There was a loud shattering of glass as the
    only window in my apartment broke.
    Coincidentally, the lights gave out, plunging the
    neighbourhood into total darkness.
    I thought I saw a shadow slip through the
    cracked glass into the room. I rubbed my
    eyes. I must be imagining things.
    “Xavier.” Daniel’s voice was deathly quiet.
    “Where are you?”
    Shît. I’d forgotten Danny was scared of the
    dark.
    I kept an eye on the shadow just in case,
    moving to where the mattress was on the
    other side of the room. It was so still, I
    convinced myself it was just a trick of the
    light. Nothing more –
    A bullet whistled past my ear, leaving another
    hole in the wall behind me.
    Great. Another gun wielding maniac blowing
    holes in my apartment. Because why the fück
    not.
    “Danny, get down.”
    I moved quickly dodging bullet after bullet,
    ducking just as I reached him. He seemed to
    be plastered to the ground, almost blending
    with the mattress. I knew he could see me, so
    I just put a finger on my lips.
    I took out the pocket blade in my jeans and
    ripped the corner of the mattress.
    All the while shots echoed around me. By now,
    I knew whoever this was hadn’t come prepared
    for a blackout. They were just blindly taking
    shots.
    See, Danny. I thought, smiling. Shîtty is always
    stylish if it saves your äss.
    A moment later, I found what I was looking for
    in the feathery down of the mattress.
    Something cold and hard met my fingers.
    Palming it, I took out another one.
    I smiled as I heard the sound of an empty gun
    click.
    My turn, cupcake.
    Metal sliced through the air and there was a
    muffled scream, just as the lights came back
    on.
    The assassin was pinned to the wall. He was
    dressed in black head to toe with a bullet
    proof vest and a mask. One of my throwing
    blades pierced the fabric over his shoulder.
    The other cut through his left leg, leaving a
    deep gash.
    With a growl, he tugged the blades out. His
    eyes were fixed on Daniel who still hadn’t
    recovered from the blackout.
    He advanced toward him. I stepped in his way,
    trying to punch him. He easily avoided it,
    drawing a knife. He kicked me in the gut,
    s-----g the air out of me.
    Wow. I saw stars floating around me. Either I
    was way out of practice or this guy was really
    good.
    I threw a series of jabs and kicks. My
    opponent kept dodging me, managing to cut
    me more than once.
    Soon we were both breathing heavily, and I
    saw an opening. I caught his hand and bent it
    at an angle. He dropped the knife. I tripped
    him up and he fell to floor.
    Kicking the knife away, I pinned him to the
    ground. Much to my satisfaction, he was trying
    not to scream from the pressure on his injured
    leg. It was odd how much power he’d packed,
    considering he wasn’t as muscular I’d
    assumed.
    “Who do you work for?” I asked, calmly. I knew
    the lines – I’d been through this multiple times.
    There was no answer.
    “How did you find us?”
    Nothing.
    “Who are you?”
    Nada.
    “Look, you better start talking.” I ripped off the
    mask. “Before I -”
    Forest green eyes stared up at me, wine red
    curls spilling all around her on the floor. She
    was covered in sweat and her skin was
    decorated with bruises. She had a cracked lip
    and she spat blood in my face.
    I blinked. A girl.
    A girl hit me.
    I hit a girl.
    I’m still straddling the girl.
    Well, fück me.
    As I just stayed where I was in shock, Daniel
    finally chose to come around. He decided he
    had to do something about our situation.
    The future king calmly got up and hit our
    assassin on the head.
    With the fücking lamp.
    *****

    Daniel : “HIT THAT FOLLOW THE AUTHOR BEFORE I HIT YOU.
    YES, WITH THE LAMP.”

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