After dragging herself to Fifth Avenue to buy an outfit for that night’s gala, Vivienne rushed home and threw herself onto her bed. The gentle red velvet hugged her cheek as she lied face down with the red soles of her shoes smiling at the chandelier above. Fifty-seven shopping bags slouched in the dark closet awaiting their debut. With a brief phone call, her bedroom was instantly crowded with seven people dressed in black, whose job it was to poke and prod at her until she looked ravishing enough to blend in. The shimmery gold slid across her eyelids as her hair was brushed and curled. In the mirror, the crimson gown glistened, it flowed down off her shoulders and continued through the carpet. Her decolletage was the perfect stage for the light of the chandelier to dance. As the sword like heels stabbed the carpet, the blood stained the soles of her shoes and the train of the dress covered and tended to the stab wounds. Vivienne reflected on the image in the mirror and her red lips tugged into a smirk. Her hair whipped around as she quickly grabbed her clutch, dropped a few red tablets into it, and skipped down the stairs until she stopped to wait for the elevator doors.

The fountain was lit and water sprung directly up and crashed down repeatedly. The tall arches of Lincoln Center were illuminated and the chandeliers inside welcomed everyone in. As Vivienne stepped out of the car, the cold air slapped her face as she looked to the ground and hurried inside.

Long skirts of brilliant blues and radiant reds swayed and twirled, taking up every inch of the floor. Loud chatter rose and fell as the women smiled and waved and the men nodded and laughed.

“Vivienne Kingsley,” remarked Phillip Grandstone, a business partner of Vivienne’s father.  “I just saw your father! I’m sure he’s here to celebrate the enormous sale the company made- outstanding work on his part!”

“Hello Mr. Grandstone. Oh, wow, I didn’t know my father would be attending tonight. I should probably go say hello. Have a good night, please excuse me.”

Vivienne did not particularly like Mr. Grandstone. There was something about him that didn’t settle right with her. She felt that he was sly and untrustworthy, but her father loved him ever since they had been friends in high school. Vivienne’s father was Harrison Kingsley. He was one of the most powerful businessmen and investors in New York. He founded a company that was extremely successful, but never took the time to explain it to her. From her father’s perspective, all Vivienne knew was that he made a lot of money and spent all of his time at work. He hoped that one day she would become more invested in the business.

Vivienne made her way through the sea of gowns and finally found her father laughing loudly with one of his potential clients. She waited patiently behind her father as he continued to lure the silver-haired client into investing in his business. When the men shook hands and the silver head turned and bobbed off, Vivienne finally made her presence known.

“Hi dad,” Vivienne exclaimed as she walked around his shoulder and stood before him, “I didn’t even know you were going to be here tonight.”

Her father’s left lip curled into a smile, “Of course darling, I thought it was the perfect opportunity to network with our target, Mr. Wellington.”

Vivienne made a quick remark on his suit and he returned with a casual compliment on her dress.

“More importantly,” Mr. Kingsley brought up, “I would like to take this time to talk to you about the progress of the company. Let’s talk in private.”

Vivienne followed her father through the sparkling gems and piercing black bow ties into the still hallway. The clamour and ruckus could not bother them there.

“I have something very important to tell you,” Mr. Kingsley looked around, reassured himself with his observation and focused back on Vivienne. “There is an issue with the latest client. He claims he has the right to a large sum of money from a contract that I apparently signed.”

From the hallway, Vivienne eyed Mr. Wellington. His silver head glistened under the lights as he laughed and sipped his scotch. Mr. Kingsley leaned forward and whispered into Vivienne’s ear:

“I’m going to have a meeting with him after the party and I think you should be there. Go straight to my office when you leave and I’ll meet you there.”

Vivienne nodded and slipped back into the crowd of the champagne sipping guests.

Vivienne gave a gentle knock before stepping into her father’s office. Once inside the dark mahogany wood shone in the light of the warm fire. Her father was already sitting at his desk discussing quietly with Mr. Wellington, whose back was to her.

“Ah Vivienne, so nice of you to join us. Your father and I were just discussing some minor details of the contract,” Mr. Wellington said this with a smile that failed to reach his eyes.

“Thank you,” Vivienne said coldly as she glided over to the desk.

As she stood with her arms crossed next to Mr. Wellington, she caught a glimpse of his revolver that stood alert and hid in his inner suit pocket. The three of them talked for a short amount of time before it was obvious that both her father and Mr. Wellington were getting impatient. Vivienne thought to make them drinks to calm them down slightly. Mr. Wellington’s scotch sizzled and fizzed as the men’s  petty comments quickly escalated into an argument.

“You’ve cheated on numerous occasions and you still claim that you are reasonable? You should be in jail! The only reason I claimed that I was interested in working with you was so I could prove how much of a criminal you really are!” Mr. Wellington roared as his nostrils flared.

Vivienne kept herself calm and collected as she gently placed the scotch in front of then angry men in suits and stepped off to the side. She observed the men yelling with flecks of saliva flying as they opened their mouths. Finally, after the yelling had simmered down slightly, Mr. Wellington chugged the scotch in frustration. After sighing he stood.

“I think I’ve had enough of this,” Mr. Wellington said as he reached into his pocket. The revolver stood ready and jumped into his hand. The gun swung around and landed with its eye on Mr. Kingsley.

“Thank you for wasting my time and money, but I have better things to do,” the gun cocked. “You have lied and cheated and gotten away with it and it will not stand anymore!”

Mr. Wellington’s finger flexed and released. His eyes rolled back and he shifted his weight back then forward. As he fell his head slammed onto the desk and he landed on the floor with a deafening thud. Mr. Kingsley stood with his eyebrows raised.

“What did you do?” Mr. Kingsley asked as he slowly met Vivienne’s eyes which gazed upon the body which now rested on the carpet.

“I just saved your life from your sloppy mistakes,” Vivienne said as she smirked.

Her father smiled. “ Thank you. I guess I was careless.”

“You think?” Vivienne joked as she picked up the tumbler from the floor.

“Well I guess we should get home now. I’ll call Evan to dispose of the body.” Mr Kingsley said.

“Yes, I’ll meet you in the car,” Vivienne said, placing the chipped tumbler on the desk.

Her father grabbed his coat and left, whistling his way out of the door.

Still in her dress, Vivienne knelt down besides Mr. Wellington. A rip in his skin caused by the collision with the desk had now started to ooze with blood. It trailed down his forehead, stained his silver hair, dipped into his ear, and was slowly making a pool around his head. As Vivienne rose, her red dress trickled down to the floor. Her crimson shoe soles perfectly concealed the blood stain and her skirt gathered up droplets of blood as she turned. Her skirt danced and swayed as she left, leaving nothing, but a crimson painting on the dark wood floor.