The KING S Sweetheart

She was running for her dear life, this wasn't the first time, neither was it going to be the last.

The night was cool with July rain stick on the streets and sideways, there was a breeze that even in Manhattan tasted pleasantly of spring.

She was sweating and a little exhausted but she wasn't willing to budge.

Benjamin lane was quiet, even sedate at that time of the night, streetlight intermittently broke the darkness, traffic was light, it wasn't a place to lose yourself in a crowd. As she ran towards the fifth Avenue, she considered ducking down the subway below the tishman building but if they saw her go in, she might not come out again besides it was a very dangerous place for a girl to hide.

She heard the squeak of tires behind and whipped around the corner. She felt the sting in her upper arm, and heard the muffled pop of a silenced bullet, but never slackened her pace.

Almost at once, she smelt the blood which irritated her, they were getting closer and she had a feeling they were going to do something worse than the last time.

But on Tiffany Avenue, things were alot different, there were people standing here and there, some walking, some standing in pairs or group... It was a busy street filled with stores, bar and restaurant... Never gets lonely.

Her labored breathing was swallowed by the raised voices and music, quietly she stood behind a redhead which was four or five feet taller than her and half again as wide,,, it was swaying to the music that poured out of its portable stereo.

It was like hiding behind a tree in a windstorm. She seized the opportunity to catch her breath and take a look at her wound, she was bleeding like s beetroot,, without giving it a second thought, she slipped the stripped bandana out of the redhead’s back pocket and wrapped it wrong her arm.

She kept her pace slow and faded in and out of the packs of people keeping her eyes and ear open for the ruthless big Joe.

She suddenly stopped on seeing three hafty men in trim dark suits standing close to a black van, they haven't spotted her yet but it wouldn't take long for them to do so.

Thinking fast, she scanned the crowd and caught sight of something that would be of great help to hee, a black leather with two dozen zippers

“Hey” She grabbed the arms of a boy beside her “I'll give you fifty bucks for your jacket” She said with a pleading eyes.

The boy with pale spiked hair and a paler face shrugged himself “Fuck off,,, its leather and very expensive” He said touching his jacket.

“A hundred then” She muttered, the three men were getting closer and she needed to act very fast.

This time, the boy took more interest, he turned his face so that she would see the burnt scar on her face “Two hundred and its yours” he said with a smile on his face, exposing his missing dentition.

She was already reaching her pocket, it was no time to negotiate “For two hundred, I want the shade too” She said.

The boy whipped off the wraparound mirrored sunglasses “You got’em” he said.

In a quick move, she yanked the boys jacket off, after stuffing bills into his hands.

She pulled it on, letting out a hiss off breath at the pain in her right arm. The jacket smelt, not altogether pleasantly of its previous owner, she sighed ignoring it, she tugged the zipper up, she packed her blonde hair in a pony tail style and wore the sunglasses,,, this way it would be alot difficult to recognize her.

She walked passed on of the three men into the nearest bar.

The bar was beautifully decorated with sexy wallpapers shimmering in pale color under dimmed light.

People sat in pairs laughing and drinking, security men blocked the path which leads to the private dining rooms with Prostitute standing at each corner winking at every bachelor they could set their eyes on.

With one whiff, she caught the scent of a French cooking sage, burgundy thyme, she considered hustling her way past the maitre'd to a quiet table, then decided the bar was s better cover and a more convinet place.

She walked towards the bar, her hands stuck in her pocket, even as she sat on the bar stool, she was calculating how and when to make her exits.

“Whiskey” she adjusted the wraparound shades.

The bar attendant stared at her for a while and scoffed, “Guess you just had an heartbreak” He said trying to start up a conversation with her.

“Only those heartbroken are permitted to drink” Her voice came rather too harsh, the bar attendant knew better, he smiled and served her,, it was against his working rules to question his costumers or make them uncomfortable.