“You really look dazzling tonight Yvette.” Mr. Bluebarry said as he took a sip of his drink. His date smiled at him warmly. “Well thank you Mr. Bluebarry. A lady never does get tired of hearing that.” “A young lady as beautiful as you probably does hear it a lot.” He responded laughing. “Here you are talking to an old bloke such as myself while you could be dancing with any man here tonight. I’m sure all of them would say the same, some maybe in more eloquent manner, after all there are a lot of aspiring artist here tonight as I’m sure you know, I bet you recognized a few.”
“Not really.” The young woman replied somewhat honestly. “I’m not that educated regarding the modern art. Not as much as I would like to be really.” She took a sip of her drink and the older man continued speaking. “Well I vouch to you Yvette I’ll do what ever is in my power to change that!” He was speaking a lot louder the girl noted. The drinks were getting to him. She said nothing however but smiled slightly, and trying to speak in a higher pitch, simulating excitement. “Would you really?” It seemed to be successful because the older man gave her a big smile. “Well of course darling! I am a man of my
word as you will surely learn… I’m also a great patron of arts! That is why so many of these young people have come today! For me!” Then he moved a little closer placing one hand on her side. “You are going to learn so much from me, lovely lady.” His voice was softer now, and his smile was different. Attempting seduction, the girl concluded but she took another sip looking at the floor shyly. “Now what do you say for a little alone time?” He asked in the same soft voice, his hand still firmly placed on her body. “It’s getting loud, and rather hot in here.” “A good idea Mr. Bluebarry.” The girl replied. “Please call me Michael.” He said still smiling.
“NO! That is NOT a good idea. Wrong, wrong, wrong!” An irritated voice yelled in the girl’s earpiece. She didn’t even flinch. She just gave Michael another warm smile. “Okay Michael. But first I need a few minutes to powder my nose.” He nodded in agreement and finally moved his hand. “Be back soon.” She said and touched Michael’s arm lightly before moving away. She walked gracefully across the room, on high heels, after three of those damned drinks. It was the first lesson they covered, holding down her liqueur. The two of them, her mentor Mortimer and her would go out in many clubs in Bridgeport and just drank themselves blind. “There would be situations in which you would need to drink and still stay in character. That is very important, your cover depends on your ability to handle your drinks. If you can’t than we’ll master keeping appearance of drinking but it would be better if you actually drank them, easier.” And so she did. She drank and drank and drank… She hadn’t really perfected it, but she had learned her limits. Thankfully for the role of pretty, yet naive Yvette Glade she wasn’t supposed to drink too much anyway. In fact she should show some signs of inebriation when she comes back she thought as she reached the bathroom door.
She walked in and closed the door behind her. She made sure it was locked and then looked around. The room was a unnecessarily richly decorated as the rest of Michael Blubarry’s house she noticed and went straight to the gilded mirror checking if her makeup was still in place. She hardly recognized the woman that looked back at her, but that was sort of the point. “What?” She asked leaning to the mirror. “You shouldn’t have agreed to come out with him.” Her mentor’s voice spoke in her ear once again. “And why not?” She asked impatiently. “Because of what his ‘alone time’ implies.” “Well I am supposed to be naive, aren’t I?” “Naive but not stupid.” Mortimer replied annoyed. “A girl that pretty would have learned what men want already…” Pretty? She froze in her steps
feeling the warmth that radiated from hear that was beating faster. He called me pretty. Well sure, it was Yvette Glade he was technically referring to but she was there, underneath Yvette Glade. “Are you there?” Mortimer asked, a trace of concern in his voice. “Yes.” She spoke softly. “Well as I was saying, it was a misstep, a small misstep, but it’s one of those, a small one between you and jail, or worse, death.” He continued, apparently oblivious to the change in her voice and she snapped back. “I don’t see what is the problem. That was the game, seduce him. The painting is in his bedroom, and that is the easiest way there, is it not?” Mortimer sighed in frustration.
“It is the EASIEST way but it sure isn’t the SAFEST. You want to be a con artist, not a goddamn prostitute Eevee.” She loved the way he spoke her name. And was that concern again? Did he really care for her? “We will leave that as the last option. Just stick to the plan. Learn as much as possible about him, and the layout of the house. Okay?” “Okay.” She replied. “I’ll stick to the script. So what should I do now? Think of an excuse not to go with him?” Mortimer seemed to consider this a bit. “No. Go. But don’t… Don’t let him try anything Eevee…” She smiled this time. “Why? Are you jealous?” Eevee asked feeling a bubble of hope fill up her chest but Mortimer just snorted. “Don’t play those games with me. Save it for the old sleaze.” The bubble burst instantly and she nodded before she remembered he can’t see her.
“What should I do if he does try something?” She asked but then corrected herself. “What should Yvette do?” “I don’t know… Improvise. What would Eevee do?” Mortimer asked her and she laughed. “Eevee would show his nuts some awesome moves a black belt in Sim Fu has…” Now Mortimer laughed. It was a rare sound and it made Eeevee so happy to hear it. “Scratch that. Just be… Polite?” “I’ll think of something.” She replied as she moved to the door. She wished she could stay here talking to Mortimer the whole night but she had to get out there. A job awaited her. She had already stepped in the hallway when she heard Mortimer say: “Good luck Eevees.”
A smile crept to her face and the warmth was back, spreading through her body like wildfire.
After the party Eevee was back in the small rented apartment and taking a shower, washing all traces of Yvette Glade off of her body. It was good being herself again, although she had warmed up to Yvette Glade, after all Mortimer had called her pretty… A smile creeped to her lips before she could contain it. Pathetic Eevee. You are simply pathetic. Acting like a silly little schoolgirl… She told herself but it didn’t affect her mood, she was still bubbling with happiness as she walked back to her room.
She had rented this apartment a month ago, under a false name of course, Mortimer had helped her create several false identities to use while in town even before the “Michael Bluebarry” operation started. “Yvette Glade” was the latest of their inventions, a rich heiress from Twinbrook who was just learning about upscale, high society living. They fabricated the details at a small cafe in town. It was Mortimer’s idea to use her real name. To which Eevee just rolled her eyes. “Yvette is a strange a name to me like any other, nobody calls me Yvette, not even my mother.” “Yes but you know it, it’s a name you are not likely to forget, no matter what the circumstances are.” “You think the old bloke might resort to torture?” She asked with a teasing smile. Mortimer only replied with an annoyed look and she sighed. “Fine, we’ll go by Yvette…” Mortimer nodded.”I’ll let you choose your last name, maybe something that starts with a G, keep your initials…”
“Goth!” Eevee exclaimed excited. Afterall that wasn’t something she was likely to forget… And how many times had she imagined the way it would sound, Eevee Goth… “No.” Mortimer replied not taking his eyes of the papers he was reading. “Absolutely not.” “Why not? It is an appropriate name for a rich heiress, it screams aristocracy… Yes Twinbrook is miles away, but i can claim I didn’t know I was a Goth until recently and after I found out I changed my name from Swampy… Or whatever…” She babbled on with excitement. “I am the last living Goth.” Mortimer cut her off sharply. “So it is safe to say the name is not associated with aristocracy anymore. And you don’t want to be associated with me Eevees.” She looked at her own hands sadly. Did that have double meaning? Or was she imagining things? “But Swampy is not half-bad, it gave me an idea… What do you say to Yvette Glade?”
And that is how Yvette Glade came to be. And with Yvette Eevee’s training to be a con artist with the famous Mortimer Goth went to a whole new level. It was risky and fun, and Eevee knew she had made mistakes on the way but she thought herself to be a pretty good disciple despite the fact she was growing more and more in love with her mentor which each passing day…
But there was a good reason Eevee was as good as she was, all her life since she joined the crime world she was playing a double game. Even her going rouge after Susannah Ramsay had take over the organization and being fed up with menial tasks like playing silly games with the police, all of it was a part of that game. And it was a dangerous one too, more dangerous then the cons she and Mortimer had played, it left her dancing on the edge of life and death every single day but Eevee was not going to give it up, not when she was so close…