“I’m back bitches, now panic!”

Author One Scene One:

I can see the pride and freedom in their faces. All five of them. Wearing skimpy bikinis and swim shorts, drunk and dripping wet from their recent dip in the ocean. Beachside in Hawaii, soaking up the sun with the money I’m rotting over. Freckles and all, especially Phyllis, the hag. She’s the mastermind of their entire little group. It used to be me, until Phyllis talked the others into setting me up. The biggest heist in Scottish history, and not only did I miss out on the fun, but I was the one convicted for the crime. What’s worse, I taught them bitches everything they know. How do they repay me? By framing me for millions stolen, and leaving me to waste away behind bars like a caged animal.

And now here I am, sitting in a cell and staring at a photo of my used to be crew. They’ll pay for what they did soon. I live for revenge, it really is the only thing that’s kept my dying body afloat. I can feel the cancer spreading through me. Like spilt paint, it fills every nook and cranny and then crusts there, making it impossible to scrub out. I don’t take the medicine anymore. It only makes me feel worse, and I’ve always refused the Chemo.

There’s no way I’m going to let this sickness take my fiery hair. It’s my trade-mark, helps to distinguish both personalities I portray. To everyone close I keep it curly and wild, usually tied in a giant crazy knot at the crown of my head with zero make-up and glasses to keep my face looking average. Only the few people closest to me get the pleasure of seeing my thick fiery mane the way I really like it. Straightened or waived, it flows perfectly to the curve of my back. I use only the best product as well the top make-up.

When on a job, my looks are perfected. Completely opposite of the plain Jane, sweetie sweet little girl next door type that I come off as, at a first glance on a regular day. It’s been six years since I’ve let the fierce me roam free. Six years since I thickened and curled my lengthy lashes to frame my big green eyes. Six years since was able to paint my full defined lips with my favorite velvety shade of scarlet to match my hair. I can’t fucking wait until tomorrow. Hamish better follow through with his promises. He’s had plenty of time to prepare my goods and a fake ID to get me out of the country, and away from the parole board. I’m sure they’ll be watching me like a hawk.    

The doctor gave me a year to live, and as of tomorrow I’ll be released on ‘good behavior’. I don’t need a full year, only a couple weeks… If that… I’ll finally get my revenge, and after that I don’t care how long the cancer gives me. I only care to see those bitches dead. Every last one of them. I’ve worked at my plan since the very day of my conviction. There was no point in fighting for an appeal. I’m a trickster, the best. Rather than fighting my charges for a second round, I used my time to play the part needed for an early release. The odds were better in my favor that way, and it worked. It takes time and discipline to do what I’ve done in here.

After the first six months served, I confessed fully to the crime I didn’t commit. Then I begged for the help of a priest and a therapist to get me on the right path. After all this time of playing the part I wanted them to see. I now have both religion and mental professionals on my side. No panel of judges can argue with that, especially when paired with the pity of cancer and two years of volunteering at the prison library, as a highly trusted inmate. I haven’t allowed a soul here to see through my act. No fellow inmates, guards, priests or doctors have seen any side of me other than the one I’ve wanted them to. Six fucking years. The stupid sorry saps actually believe that I want to live out the last measly year of my life in peace before the disease rots me from the inside out. They actually feel bad for me the fools.

Thank God for Hamish and our conjugal visits. We’ve been engaged for years, but I really don’t see the point in an actual wedding. I’m just going to die anyway. For the last three years he’s been able to visit the prison every few months and fuck my brains out. All the while whispering sweet not-so-nothings in my ear. He watches them for me. He knows exactly where they go and what jobs they land. Hamish keeps me up to date on every last one of those five motherfuckers. I’m all lined up with everything I need to finish them off. They’ll be holed up in Hawaii for the next month at some top dollar resort. Won’t they be surprised to see my smiling face, years sooner than expected, and just as deadly as always.   

“Two mar’ minutes, Miss McCarmick”

The guard shouts through my bars, my name rolling off her tongue with a thick scottish twang. Her chubby fingers are gripped tightly around a short beating stick, and she taps it a few times against a metal bar to get my attention.

“Yes mum.’”

I glance up and flash her my most innocent smile.

Roberta, my cell-mate, lowers herself next to me on the corner of my rock hard poor excuse of a bed. She’s nice, well to me anyway. Sort of like a mother figure. To most of the inmates she’s a crude old bitch, never putting up with their nonsense. Most of the women here are scared out of their minds of her. To me she’s like a mama bear, which is exactly what I’ve needed.

“You remind me a’ me wee one.” Roberta told me on the day we were paired in the same cell.

A few days later she made a name for herself, by sticking a butter knife through the palm of a woman who tried to snatch a biscuit from my breakfast plate, in the mass hall. Since then no one fucks with me. It’s perfect, because of her it’s been much easier to keep up the charade. The last thing I need is to loose my teetering temper when I’m trying so hard to play a kind hearted soul.

Roberta takes the photo from my hand and stares.

“Bet yer’ ready ta’ see um’. Yeah?” She asks.

“Yes mum, I miss me’ friends dearly.” I lie.

“Looks like fun ther’ gals. I’m happy far ya luv’. Ya don-a deserve to be in har’ with the rest of us’. Yer’ too sweet far’ a place like this.”

“Wall’ anyone can change mum.” I tell her with a suggestive wink.

Roberta’s laugh roars through our cell, husky with her smoker’s scratch.

“I’m a killer love, thar’s no changin’ that.”

I give her a tight hug. Roberta’s the only person I’ll actually miss from the last six years of my measly existence. It’s funny the irony. We’ve grown close based on my alter-personalities likenesses to her daughter. Yet the real me, the one I keep locked away, is so much like her it’s almost surreal. Listening to her stories, and spending so much time with her makes me ache to let my true self out. Soon, very soon I’ll have the freedom to seek the revenge I’ve lived for. I can practically taste it on the tip of my tongue.

“I’ll miss ya’, mum.”

I let my tangled hair loose and retie it in a tighter knot on my head. A few roaming curls tickle my forehead and the back of my neck. I suck in and exhale a few deep breaths as my guard leads the way. Her round hips swing, and a long pony tail swishes back and forth. My hand cuffs itch and the loose ankle chains clatter. I can’t wait to lose this metal baggage. I don’t have to wear them often, but when visiting the board it’s a must.

I take a seat in the lone chair set out just for me. Its light metal frame sets me right in the middle of a small room, windows on both sides, and the walls are a bright daunting white. Rather than avoiding eye contact like most inmates do, I hold a kind confident gaze with the four others who sit across from me. A long table separates me from three men and one woman. All dressed in their best and ready to pass the same judgement as they already have time and time again. My release was already cleared, but the last conversation with my releasing board is required.

Judge Aiken sits in the middle. He’s a foot taller than the rest and his skin a shade darker, tanned easily by the sun. He’s not the typical Scottish man. His blond hair is cut short and his blue eyes are on full display. He’s the same Judge that put me here in the first place, and the first to suggest my freedom.

“Miss McCarmack, are ye’ ready for the big day tomorrow?” Judge Aiken says.

“Yes sir.” I smile kindly, “Thank ye’ again for the faith in me.”

“I must say, your case is one ta’ remember. I’m happy to see the change in ye’”

“So am I sir,”  I act. “I’m glad to have found God, especially with my sickness.”

“Wall’ alright then. I expect you to be on your best behavior.” His thin brows lift in slight warning.

“Yes sir.”

“And your fiance ‘as cleared all the paperwork to pick you up in the marnin”

I nod, excitement rising in my belly as I listen to the Judge.

“He is to take you straight to the halfway house. You’ll stay thar far one whole month befar’ the two of ya’ will be allowed to move together’. Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes sir.”

With that all four of them give my guard a nod. This is it. It’s finally happening. This time tomorrow night I’ll be on a plane to Hawaii. Dressed to impress and with my hair and face the way I like. Those fucking whores will never see me coming. I whisper under my breath on the walk back to my cell, “I’m back bitches, now panic.”

Author Two Scene Two

***

London, Heathrow Airport, 14:00 p.m

I close my umbrella on the light rain before I walk through the doors of the busy airport, into the Departures lounge. A feeling of excitement pools in my stomach. Last time I was on a plane I was in cuffs. I was extradited from Scotland to attend my trial at the Old Bailey Magistrates court in London for a crime I never committed. Yeah, I was the mastermind behind  it, I’m a con-artist after all, but I never committed it. All I was meant to do was collect my dough, and make sure everyone got paid. Phyllis decided to change that plan, her move is totally unforgivable.

  I’ve already checked in online and printed my boarding passes. I only have hand luggage with me, I head straight to the bathroom to change out of my “uniform” of plain clothing.  

Yesterday morning I landed at my halfway house with Hamish after my release, dumped my stuff and put in an appearance with my caseworker. I pleaded a great case, oh how grateful I am to be “saved” and how the Lord will guide me from here on out, as I live out my last days while this cancer eats away at me. I threw her off scent about what my whereabouts  will be over the next week. As far as she’s concerned I’ll be bed bound with my Bible and weak tea, studying the scriptures as I  repent my sins further. It was almost too easy, this double personality comes so naturally now. I can slip in and out of it quicker than you can flick a light switch. In the late evening I sneaked out of the halfway house with my hood raised, I hot footed it over to the railway station, and jumped on the last sleeper train from Edinburgh to London. It was mind blowing to step back onto the streets of London after six years inside, the quick pace everyone was walking at, finding my way around at the train station, as I navigated my way to the airport was almost overwhelming. The good thing about London is everyone fits in, no matter who you are no one batted an eyelid at my baggy jeans and oversized jumper.

One thing you learn as a con-artist is to step into the shoes of any and everybody, and never miss a business opportunity when it looks you in the face. As I waive my way through the busy Departures lounge, filled with travellers it feels like I’m in a sardine can, I smile to myself at this thought. What other profession is there that allows you to become whoever you want to be, portray whatever personality that takes your fancy? And not be classed as a nutcase… an actor, writer, stripper maybe? I dunno, either way, all I know is sniffing out a business opportunity to rip someone off is in my Scottish blood, it’s all I know. I see a unsuspecting blonde up ahead ten paces struggling with her bags. Clearly not prepared for the likes of people like me, the perfect opportunist.

“Oh sorry ma’am I never saw you there, I beg yer pardon.”

“It’s my fault all these bags, I shudda packed a wee lighter.”

As the dumb blonde focuses her attention back on her bags I knocked over, I lightly brush past her, then casually walk away toward the bathroom. Proud of myself that I’ve still got it, as I pocket her purse in the waistband of my baggy jeans. I know, small fries pick pocketing the innocent public, too bad, maybe next time she’ll remember to zip up her bag.

***

In the spacious cubicle I kick out of my jeans and jumper, then slip into something a bit more me. Hamish is a legend, when I arrived at the halfway yesterday,  he had all my shit together just how I like it ready to go. I unzip the bag and pout happily at my outfit. Over my head I slip on a nude strappy satin flowy top, then step into a pair of  white wide legged trousers that hug me in all the right places, before they widen at the leg. On my feet I don a pair of nude peep toe four inch heels. On top I slip on a white well tailored Alexander McQueen blazer. I open up the blonde’s purse check out her ID and pocket it along with her £200.00 cash. That will come in handy. I dump her purse in the ceristine of the toilet. Now, I hope Hamish hasn’t forgot to pack my cosmetics. I can’t walk out  dressed to kill without the finishing touches. He didn’t disappoint, stashed in the Karen Millen handbag I pull out a goody bag of cosmetic treats, everything from M.A.C to Kat Von D’s liquid matte lipsticks, he went to town! I also spy my fake passport and some cash. Dumping the canvas bag with my old clothing, I leave the cubicle and  make up my face in the mirror.

Stepping out the lady’s room I feel a million dollars and much more me. I confidently strut to security  and check for my flight on the screen. I see flight LAXL19657 is not delayed, perfect. With eighteen hours of flight time from London to Hawaii  I’ll  stop off in LA, meet Hamish who flew out last night, then pick up my connecting flight direct to Honolulu Hawaii.

***

Kicking back in the business section of the plane, I recline in my seat and finally relax. I hate the way airport security always make you feel as though you have something to hide.

Six years… I say it out loud and shake my head, I can’t believe they went against me, I can’t believe they were actually brave enough. The trip down memory lane is almost painful, as I block out the pretty air hostess swaying their hips, walking up and down the aisle checking everyone is buckled up and ready to depart.

***

 Six Years Ago The Flamingo Hotel &  Casino, Las Vegas:

“Hit, gimmie a hit and be good to me pretty lady!”

You’d hardly recognise me in my uniform and wig I’d wear to work, as part of the last scam we worked on. That’s right I had to get a “job” dealing cards in the casino to get us rich. I flip over a card and place down the five of hearts, on top of the queen of spades.

“Oh sir, yer so close, what’s it gonna be?”

Hamish winks at me ready to get into character and play his role. He looks great in his white  cotton sleeveless shirt, and well cut dark jeans. His skin glows with a sun kissed tan from the Las Vegas sun. He raises his hand to annotate his words.

“Fifteen! Jesus, oh boy this is a close one. What are my chances of lady luck being on my side tonight ? Fifteen is always an unlucky one for me, I always bust. Tonight, I’m on the wide side… hit me!”

I  peek from under my lashes around me, before I switch the cards expertly with ease, then flip over a six of diamonds. The crowd  around my Blackjack table go wild and cheer.

“Twenty one sir! Lady Luck herself is at the Flamingo Hotel tonight!” I announce.

To the outside eye Hamish is a very rich man, twenty five thousand dollars richer to be exact, it appears to spectators Lady Luck is on his side. He’s just an innocent man taking his chances on the cards, just like everyone else soaking up the thrill and rush Las Vegas casinos give you.

I look on through the crowd as everyone’s distracted, celebrating with Hamish. I spy  Kim and Didi  playing their part working the casino floor.  While all eyes are on the jackpot winner by my table, wallets are being lifted left right and center. I see what everyone else doesn’t.

 I watch Kim “accidentally” rub up against  an unsuspecting tourist and spills her champagne all over him.

“Oh, shit I’m sorry mate! Clumsy me ‘er lemme help you wipe ya-self down.”

I laugh at her in my head. The amount of times I’ve heard that line. From her own jeans pocket  she whips out a handkerchief and wipes down the man’s suit. I watch her lift his wallet from his  jacket pocket, distracting him with her apologies all the while.  She totters off in her heels without flinching. She always came across as too clever for my liking  now that I think about it, after all that’s happened. The street and book smart the bitch has got a mouth on her too. London born and raised, she became part of my crew the night she earned her stripes. I crossed paths with her in the bathroom at a nightclub in the upmarket district of Mayfair, in London. The cheeky bitch had the guts to lift my wallet from me, as she brushed past. I knew  what she did it takes one con to know another. When I spun her around and confronted her, she squared off with me in the bathroom, gripped my throat, pinned me up against the wall demanding to know who the fuck I was calling a thief? Bold as brass, an Oscar winning performance she denied it all, I’ll never forget it.  I cut her a deal told her if she worked for me her days of pick pocketing would be over. She bought me a cocktail and all was forgotten.

I look over at Didi setting to work, walking past all the casino’s guests with her brown eyes darting from left to right, seeking out the perfect opportunity.

Now Didi, that bitch is crazy don’t let the pretty innocent blonde, small town girl stereotype fool you. I bumped into her late one night. I was in the right place at the right time. I saw her in action  at 2:00 a.m at a liquor store over in Utah. I watched her tiny  figure roll right up to the clerk, pull a gun out from her waistband, point it in his face as she demanded in some of the most foul language I’ve heard, to fill the bag with cash by the time she counted to three. Once her bag was full, she shot him point blank between the eyes, later she confessed it was “ just for fun” even though the register was empty. I knew right then she’d be useful. As she ran out the store with her hoodie up and cash stuffed in her bag, Hamish caught her. He passed on my message, if she’s a dab hand at  stick ups, she could make a mint working for me. If we ever had a job needing her “skill set”.

Six years ago we all had one common goal Hamish, Didi, Kim, Phyllis, Diego, and me. Make money and that’s it. We spent a good six months ripping off punters and tourists that flock the many casinos in Vegas, lifting their wallets. For our second scam, Hamish was in a different disguise twice a week, playing his special role. Turns out Kim’s a dab hand with theatrical makeup artistry, she’d turn Hamish  into different men, all different races and ages. He’d be a jackpot winner at my table, while I manipulated the cards in his favor.

Once we had our fun and pocked enough dough, I innocently resigned from my role at the casino and disappeared a very rich lady.

We spent two months hiding out in the luxury resort in Cancun, Mexico, while I formed another mastermind plan to get us even richer. I had a link on the inside over at the Royal Bank of Scotland, a London branch was our target. Back then, plan was to left as much cash as we could from the bank. No stick ups, no robbery it was all about clever money laundering. We were successful until Phyllis got greedy, she was pissed that I was due to get a bigger cut of the money, and so I should have. I was the one who masterminded the whole damn plan, and had the link. When the crew and I returned to London, from Cancun her and those two other bitches Didi and Kim dropped me right in the shit.

***

 London, six years ago, outside The Royal Bank of Scotland:

“Okay girls this is it are we ready?”

“Phyllis are you sure she’s tryin-a  con us out of our money?”

“Kim, how many times have I gotta tell yer’ ? Yes, of course she is, she’s taking a full sixty percent cut while you, me, Didi, Diego and Hamish share forty percent. Does that sound fair?”

“I just don’t think she’d do it that’s all.”

“Kim, if you’re going to pussy out then go now, we can’t afford to fuck this one up. If you can’t be the getaway driver, we’ll find someone who will and give your cut to them.”

“Didi, I’m just sayin-”

“Fuck just sayin’ Kim, you in or out?”

“You better make sure your ass don’t get caught that’s all I’m sayin’ Didi we all know how trigger happy you get. And you Phyllis, keep an eye out!.”

“I’ve held up enough liquor stores to know what I’m doing, a bank can’t be that much more harder.”

“You’re one crazy bitch, Didi”

“That’s right. Now, put the car in gear and let’s go you’re lucky I don’t know how to drive on the left or I’d do it my damn self.”

“Phyllis you got the red wigs right?”

“Of course, let’s go. This is our evidence, got to make it look like she was one of robbers.”

***

“All right bitches, everyone on the floor and put ya hands behind ya head. Nobody move.”

“You heard her people, let’s go, that gun’s loaded and she will shoot.”

“You, fill up the bag now, all them notes back there are mine ya hear me?  Not just the sterling notes if ya got any dollars up in there they’re mine too. Any funny movements ya not gonna make it home tonight ya understand?”

“C’mon c’mon hurry up already! Shit mother-fucker let’s go I anit got all day.”

***

Can you believe that shit?  Didi held up the fucking Royal Bank of Scotland, dressed in a red wig to put me in the picture. Phyllis was the look out, Kim she was the getaway driver. She did it too, they picked a bank located not far from the motorway on the outskirts of London, for easy access to get away. Kim put her foot down. She drove that unmarked BMW  bad ass, just over two hundred miles up the M40  from London to Manchester.  When I saw the footage on the BBC News even I was proud of her, the five-oh couldn’t keep up with her swift lane changes. She threw ‘em off they crashed into a bollard and caused a massive pile up on the motorway.

To show you the kind of crazy these bitches are they staged their own crash, with a clever car switch organized by Diego, for a cut of the money of course. Those three bitches never got caught running off with my dough, Kim got them to Manchester in one piece.  

That’s not all, the bitches left my DNA everywhere in that bank. While we were in Cancun, turns out they were plotting and collecting hair from my hairbrush, ready for the big day. That’s the only thing I can think of, when the five-oh  arrested me part of the incriminating evidence was hair DNA that put me at the crime scene. As well as Didi in her red wig. Kim, hmm like I said she always was too clever for my liking, I’d put that DNA move down to her. She is in for it once I get hold of her.

So there you have it, I went down for a crime I never committed, had no knowledge of and was never part of. All because of Phyllis and her greed.

As I focus my mind back to the present, I say a silent prayer to myself as we take off the runway… destination LA.

***

LAX Airport Bar:

“Lynn  MCcarmack, well well look at you live and in living color.”

I sigh a breath of relief as I watch Hamish swagger up to me, with his bag slung over his shoulder.

“Hamish boy am I glad to see yer. What’s the latest?”

“Hold on, where’s your ring?”

“Hamish I’ve got it don’t worry about it, tell me what’s been going on?”

“They’re still there in Honolulu at some top dollar resort, Diego is still with them too he’s not left the girl’s side.”

“Hmm wonder why?”

“Well there’s nothing going on but you know Phyllis, once she’s got her claws in she won’t let go.”

“So what’s the plan Lynn? Once we get over to Honolulu what are you gonna do with them?”

I look Hamish square in the eye over my tumbler of whisky, I needed a little pick me up after that long flight. I narrow my eyes in deep thought.

“Hamish, trust me the question is what aint  I gonna do with them.”

“Ah- ha! Now this I gotta see, drink up our flight’s been announced.”

***

Honolulu, Hawaii

I step out the airport beaming from ear to ear, the paradise before me just adds a little sweetener to my day. Eighteen full hours in traveling, finally I’m here.

“You got the address Hamish?”

“Don’t need it, I know it like the back of my hand.”

I watch him flag down a taxi, the driver pulls over outside the Arrivals exit, and jumps out to open the doors.

“After you my sweet.” Hamish says.

I smile a sweet smile and jump in.

“Where to please sir, ma’am?”

“The Waikiki resort, I’ll give you a shout where to stop off.”

As we ride along to the resort I don’t know if it’s the almost forty degree heat, the blue sky, the sight of palm trees lined up along the street, or the thought of finally confronting my old crew members that makes my heart sing. Either way, this place is paradise. To think six years ago all this beauty would have been an everyday thing for me. The clear water, white sand, exotic locations around the world were like a second home to me, right after Scotland. The contrast of the two environments is big, I know where I’d rather be, but Scotland shaped me into who I am, and will always be home.

Thirty minutes later we step out of the taxi into the harsh midday sun, a slight breeze blows from the sea literally across the road. I look around as Hamish pays the driver, the cunts made sure the picked the best of the best, beach front, great views on what appears to be a lively strip.

“Ready?”

“As I’ll ever be Hamish.”

We walk up to the lavish complex building, white washed, sparkling windows, open front balconies. It screams glamour,wealth and money. Stopping at the gate, Hamish looks around then taps a code in on the pad, the gate opens.

“Bingo!”

“How do yer find out the code?”

“Inside job, don’t ask.”

I smirk, at Hamish, some things never change. Behind the gates a pool greets us, the luxury makes my blood boil even more, standing back in the bushes I observe what looks like an average day. Kim sitting pretty at the table with a large sun hat on, with her nose in a fashion magazine, Didi with her sunglasses low sunning herself on a lounger, Phyllis doing laps in the pool and Diego preparing a BBQ, cutting up strips of meat. Hamish and I look at each other and smile. Finally, I’ve got them, finally revenge is going to be mine. I chew the inside of my lip the feeling is so sweet.  I’ve dreamed of this day for six  years. I imagined all kinds of scenarios  for the day we finally met, never did I imagine I’d fly thousands of miles to paradise to confront them.

“Go get ‘em tiger.” Hamish teases me.

I throw my fire red mane back and strut out from behind the bushes, toward the pool area, Hamish follows behind me.

“Well, I hate to spoil the party guys is there space for one more?”

Four pairs of eyes look up at me, their mouths hit the floor. Kim raises an eyebrow in my direction, Didi puts her poker face on show. Diego reaches for a knife from the table. Phyllis almost drowns herself in the pool at the sight of me, but she’s the first to panic.

“Lynn Lynn OMG you’re… you’re… what  ya doing ‘ere you’re out early? Listen ya gotta hear me out, they made me do it, Didi an’ Kim they made up all kinda shit about you I had no choice.”

“Lying bitch, you were the ring leader! I know all about it. That’s right I’m back bitches, now panic.”

Nicely left open so we can do part two if we get a good response!!

This Is How Kim & Didi’s Suspenseful Collection Works!

We never discuss beforehand how a story should go or who writes what. It’s a surprise for each other to see how their story ends, or what lands in their inbox to finish off.

This interactive writing challenge is simple and insanely creative. It’s a group effort and we are so glad to have you join in the writing fun!!  I hope you’re ready to challenge us by choosing which prompts we can transform into stellar suspense!  Give us your best shot!  You vote on our weekly prompt, and we provide the entertainment. It’s that simple!  The super easy steps are as follows: