Frank adjusted the hem of the dress for the fifth time that morning, though it didn’t need it. The shiny fabric clung like it had been painted on, showing every contour he’d rather forget he now had. His legs — smooth and tanned, looked like they belonged to somebody else entirely. His reflection in the mirror didn’t look like a fugitive. It looked like a woman about to cause a traffic accident.
He groaned. “I don’t know who that is, but it’s not me.”
Behind him, Lola squealed and clapped like a proud mother. “Oh, it’s you, sugarplum. The real you. My vision, brought to life. My doll! You’re a masterpiece. Admit it.” She circled him like he was a museum piece, tugging at his hair extensions, smoothing his foundation. “Do you hear any sirens? No? That’s because nobody’s looking for a big bad bank robber anymore. They’re looking for John Doe with a shotgun. Not Jessica Rabbit in stilettos.”
Frank winced at his own reflection. A week ago he’d been a man on the run. Now he looked like a centerfold. He hated how convincing it was. Even more, he hated that part of him understood exactly what Lola meant.“This is insane,” he said, softer this time. “I can’t stay like this forever.”
“You’ll stay like this until I’m finished,” Lola sang, twirling past him to pluck a leather purse from the dresser. “And when will that be, you ask? When I’m bored. Which, spoiler alert, is never. You’re mine. My doll, my girlfriend, my—” She leaned close to hand him the purse, her eyes psychotically giddy to Harley Quinn proportions, lips brushing his ear. “—perfect alibi.”
Frank stiffened. “Alibi?”
She smiled, wide and unblinking. “Oh, I didn't mention? Tomorrow, a detective is coming over to ask little old me if I’ve seen a certain dangerous fugitive ex of mine. Isn’t that exciting?”
Frank’s stomach dropped. “You can’t be serious.”
“Oh, but I am!” She kissed his cheek, leaving a smudge of lipstick. “And when the nice detective walks through that door, do you know what he’ll see? Not Frank the bank robber. Not my runaway coward. He’ll see my stunning girlfriend. Polished. Perfect. Untouchable.”
Frank stared at the door, expecting in to burst open any moment – police filling the room. “Lola, if I slip up—”
She shushed him with a manic giggle. “You won’t. Because if you do, darling… you’ll go to prison. And between you and me? Stripes don't suit you.” She flitted toward the mirror again, admiring the two of them side by side — her in her bubblegum robe, him in the glossy figure hugging dress. “Tomorrow, sugarplum, you make your debut. And if you’re a good girl…” She winked. “I might even let you pick the earrings.”
Frank felt his stomach twist into knots. Tomorrow. The cops. Despite what Lola said about them being together, he was completely alone – with so much to hide...and what chance did he have if she kept putting him in such revealing outfits...
No comments:
Post a Comment