The club was full of jazz. A soft voice, and trumpets of a sax, and the ring of a piano filled the dim air, the anthem of the fifties. Many voices whispered among the music, speaking of politics and life, drawling lazily through the bar as an accompaniment of sips and sighs sang from the drunkards just below the stage. The stools at the bar were mostly full of chatters, pretty ladies in evening gowns and men clad in suits and shining shoes. She was among them.

Sitting daintily on one of the many bar stools was a familiar, dark-haired dame. She was elegant, head raised as smoke slipped from her parted lips and filled the dark air of the club, and a drink of similar elegance was currently being swirled in her left hand. Mimi Keller was alone for once, alone and thinking deeply, a rare thing to see in public. She had arrived at the bar only thirty minutes earlier, looking out for a certain someone, but it seemed that her intel was incorrect. They were no where to be found.

[i]'Ah well,'[/i] her mind whispered as she took a small sip of her drink, [i]'maybe he's just a bit late... Or he's not coming at all. Ugh!'[/i] Mimi nearly bit her tongue at the pessimistic thought, feeling both annoyed and impatient at the thought of not getting paid. She rose her right hand, taking a long draw from her cigarette holder, and then returned her stare to the door. People came in slowly, one after another as the doorman probably assessed them before allowing them to enter, and she counted each fedora-clad man and evening dresses woman until something familiar entered her vision. 

[i]'The Lombardi kid, how queer, what's he doing here?'[/i]

She polished off her drink and followed the man with her eyes, watching curiously as he vanished backstage. The thought to follow him came and went quickly, just as unfamiliar hands clutched her shoulders. Mimi turned quickly, eyes narrowed into two dark slits as she glared at the side grin-wearing man that dared to touch her. But, as fate had prepared, this was anything but a problem. It was her target, a Mister Robert Saddie, husband of the late Mrs. Saddie and father of Gloria Saddie, her current employer. The young woman had only one request for Mimi; to kill this fucker before he ruins another woman's life. She was not told much about the death of Mrs. Saddie, the only thing she knew of was that her death was a suicide.

"Hello, beautiful. Can I make you company?" The man said in a deep voice, drawing circles with his thumb as Mimi smirked, sighing in another smoke filled breath and releasing it through rounded lips. She drew away from his hands and stood, stamping out the cigarette on the bar before leaning forward, red lips parted in a dazzling, fake smile, 

"Oh yes, sir, but give me a moment. I have a few things to attend too." She tapped her nose and lips, and then sashayed towards the restroom, slipping into the dimly lit women's bath. A mirror, lit by round bulbs, showed off Mimi's face and gown easily, but she wasn't there to fix herself up. Instead, she reached into her small bag, pulling out a vial of liquid. Antidote, an easily gotten solution thanks to her apothecary-running mother. She took a long swig of the medicine, wincing at the bitter taste, and then she returned it to the bag and pulled out instead a lipstick tube. It was a sharp red color, almost blindingly so, and as she applied it to her first coat Mimi instantly felt a slight sting. It was drugged lipstick, poisonous, one that works slowly but surely. While she wasn't exactly book smart, Mimi was rather good with medicines and drinks, so infusing some arsenic or lye into her lipstick wasn't exactly an issue. Finally ready for her kiss of death, she grinned, posed, and then strode back out into the club, easily finding and capturing Mr. Saddie with her playful hands. They talked lightly, with Mimi mostly listening to Saddie talk about his job and money and recent lose. They spoke and spoke and spoke until finally, Mimi leaned in, eyeing him seductively, and their lips met. 

It was a kiss made by professional heart breakers, quick and passionate and fake. Mimi felt her lips break into a smirk at the sight of him licking the redness from his lips, and as he leaned in for another peck she stood, rubbing her lips furiously with the back of her hand,

"Thank you for the drink, Robert, but I really must be off. Appointments and such, you know the deal," she eyed him curiously, noting his sudden sleepy expression cheerily, "perhaps I'll see you around, though. Ta-ta, love!" She blew him a kiss and walked away swiftly, ignoring his sudden whine of confusion and anger. Didn't need to be at the crime scene, didn't need to get caught now. She walked briskly out of the club and into the smoggy New York night, where she easily sought out a pay phone. One turn, two turns, three...

"Gloria? Yeah, it's me. Got your dad, he's good as dead now... I'm expecting my money tomorrow... Yeah my apartment... Thanks, pleasure doing business. Night." She spoke quickly in a hushed whisper, glancing around excitedly as the bright city bustle surrounded her. The woman on the other end sounded tired, tired and glad. Mimi felt the same, though she still had a little bit of business left for the night. The odd appearance and disappearance of the Lombardi son had caught her interest. Might as well loiter a bit, say hi if he passes again, get some more information on these damn mafia families. Easy peasy.