Exceptional I really liked her...too bad we'd interacted... Smoky Jazz Blue by Y. M. Roger Assassinate Me A Thriller! writing prompt entry

The New York night life was in full swing as I walked into the lobby I’d memorized from the online profile. I stepped to the reception desk, the smoky jazz flowing through the area.   “Hi there.” Her eyes were a stunning blue, but when they met mine, I saw wariness kick in. Understandable, I mused, given that Summer heat did not usually call for full tuxedo and celebration mask.  “I’m hoping you can help me.”   I let a shy smile grace my lips as I pulled the small, brightly-wrapped gift onto the desk where she could see it. Those blue eyes lit, her distrust melting away.   “You must be Carson.”   Actually, Carson was having an unplanned nap behind the dumpster, but I would do in a pinch since Blue didn’t know what the escort really looked like.   She spoke as she continued, that gorgeous smile glowing – yes, Blue was truly beautiful. “Mr. Marquette must be really looking forward to tonight.” She completed a series of keystrokes, pausing to write the elevator code on a sticky* note. “I’ve never seen him so talkative, especially about something as silly as a masquerade.”   “Hope I’m worth it.” I adjusted my bowtie and took the stcky note, forcing my gloved hand to appear to tremble nervously.    “Now, that’s good for fifteen minutes, so you’d better make a good impression or” –Blue chuckled and winked, knowingly– “you’ll be stuck in the penthouse with him tonight.”   “I’ll remember,” I whispered, grabbing the present and fumbling it purposefully. I headed straight for the elevators.   After keying the penthouse code from the note, I checked the settings on the small tranquilizer dart dispenser in the gift box.   When the doors opened, an older male voice shouted nervously, “Be right there, Carson!”   I stepped into the living room, letting the doors close behind me. I heard the sound of footsteps and readied my 'gift'.   “Let me get my mask fro–”   That was all he managed before the dart caught him in the neck. Pretty sure he’d not had a chance to appreciate my tux before he hit the floor, sound asleep. Pity.   I quickly lifted his wallet and retrieved his building access keycard. With the card and the stairwell, I made my way down two floors to my mark, Ms. Valetti’s room. Her ex (my client) had been correct: I'd no problem getting the vain woman to open the door for a masked, tuxedo-clad gift-bearer.   Without a word, I let my SIG with suppressor do the official hello and farewell for me, once for each greeting. I closed her apartment door, backtracked upstairs, and boarded the elevator back down.   I placed my gift on the reception desk for good this time. Blue smiled up at me, but her question died along with her.   “Sorry, Blue.” I shoved the SIG rig into my suit coat, stepped outside and breathed deeply – the lobby doors closing off a fitting, smoky jazz dirge for such a beauty.           Writing Prompt In 500 words or less, write a thriller (or/and horror) prose involving an assassin/assassination or hitman/hitwoman. No poetry or script, please. Be creative and have fun! :) Author Notes *sticky note -- Post-It is the brand of small [3in x 3in] notes with "self-stick" on the back. Many people simply call them 'sticky notes' because there are so many generic brands available. SIG -- refers to a personal handgun manufactured by SIG SAUER, a firearms manufacturer and importer located in New Hampshire [Note: go with the P320, if it helps to be more specific. I was just very limited with my word count, folks - please forgive!]. A suppressor is what has been mistakenly referred to as a 'silencer' in literature and television/cable shows. A 'SIG rig' refers to a handgun with its suppressor attached. Image from Google Images.

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