The Ghost

Her stilettos click-clack against the piercing marble floor as she approaches a man in a rather outdated tuxedo.

"James!" The young woman shouts, "It's national cookie day!"

"It is ma'am?"

"And it's my birthday. Isn't it cool that my birthday is on national cookie day?"

"Yes, ma'am" he awkwardly replies, itching to abort the conversation.

"Do you know what that means James? It means a party!" She squeals and kisses him on the cheek. "Send these out right now, James, and I swear to God if you order me pigs in a blanket again like last year, when you know half of my guests are vegan or cleansing, you will be fired. Okay?!" He nods and scurries off.

She walks for what seems like a mile in her San Francisco apartment to get to another room, drenched in an overwhelming shade of white. She presses into a clear ear piece and mutters a few words.

"Yep....I sent them....yes, ma'am, of course....he was invited. I assure you." She pulled out the ear piece, rolled her eyes and kicked off her shoes. Only one more week until this façade is over. The week I have been waiting for this whole year, she thinks to herself

She spends the rest of the week eagerly waiting for the RSVPs. God, no, she doesn't give a crap if Kelly Clarkson RSVP'd. She cares if he RSVP'd. I would tell you who, but that would ruin the anticipation. Every day she sprints down the steps hollering for James to bring in the mail, though I think he chooses not to listen. She checks the mail every day, though she knows he isn't the type to respond. He's subtle yet aware, unnoticeable yet captivating, smooth but not smooth enough to escape this one.

"James?!" a familiar holler echoes throughout the penthouse. She abruptly stops. "Who is this?"

"This is Jasmine, your makeup artist?" he quivers.

"I asked for Belinda you deaf college dropout!" She begins to fan her eyes as tears roll down.

"Ma'am, you said you didn't like Belinda."

"What?! I love Belinda! Remember when I got the limo driver that talked in Vegas? She made it look like I wasn't even crying!" She whines, now with blotted cheeks. "Ugh, I don't have time! This will have to do."

You know what, we don't really have time. This is only supposed to be up to three thousand words so lets fast forward a bit, shall we?

The night of the big event, the candles were dim lit, streamers everywhere, and of course, many flavors of cookies. Her eyes wander around the half filled room--it is only 7:30--scanning the room for some, ahem, specific people. "George!" she giggles! "Eee! I'm so excited you came! Maybe we can take it back to my room later tonight." She smirks, but gags inside.

"Depends how much you eat tonight, sweetheart." He responds and smacks her ass as she pushes down her bottling rage and forces another giggle.

"Agent Russo?" She hears through her earring, "The boss would like to speak with you." She gulps and excuses herself.

"Put her on" There is a click.

"Do you have an update for me or was hiring you the biggest mistake of my life?" She bluntly says.

"A prime buyer is here ma'am. George Ricks, big shot producer. I've got eyes on him." She proudly presents.

"Good work. Anyone else?" the woman's low voice asks confidently.

"Not yet, but several more will show up within the next half hour and I have traced some large shipments down to a suspect customer, but it isn't confirmed." There is silence before a reply. "Have you heard back from him yet?" The women asks coherently with her the girl's sigh.

"No. but we both know it isn't like him to give in so easy. I know we hoped this would be the one, but-" She is interrupted.

"This is the one. You do your job, i'll do mine." The woman hangs up. She rubs her eyes before quickly clearing her voice and plastering on an artificial smile.

She prepares to return to the scene and exchange cookies with the A-lists when her eyes land on the entrance and she nearly faints. Her knees buckle, so she swallows, straightens herself out and tiptoes upstairs. She taps her ear piece.

"Hi, this is the FBI how can I help you?" says a sweet, tender voice.

"This is Agent Nina Russo, put me on with the boss RIGHT NOW!" She whisper screams, digging her nail into the earpiece.

"'The Ghost' has landed! 'The Ghost' has landed!" She whispers.

"Oh my God." It goes quiet. "It's really happening. Incredible work, Russo."

"Thank you ma'am, it was an honor."

"Im sending every police squad in San Fran and Los Angeles and I'll be over in about fifteen minutes. But promise me one thing, Russo." The mystery woman requests, "Do not break your cover. You had no idea he was here and you just wanted to get drunk and give rich old men lap dances."

She smiles. "Yes ma'am. Of course ma'am" She hangs up and returns to her guests with perhaps a hint of sadness in her eyes."

She watches him discreetly in between exaggerated sips of champagne and making inappropriate small talk. A woman in a blue dress enters through the elevator and makes direct eye contact with her, cueing to begin.

She clacks up the stairs to the tops and obnoxiously bangs on her glass with a fork. "Um...attention everyone!" It gets quiet. "As you all may know, it's my birthday!" She purposely wobbles and laughs. "Whoo! Getting a little unsteady over here. Not only is it my birthday, its national cookie day! So now my underpaid yet irrelevant waiters will bring out all the different types of cookies!" She locks eyes again with the woman in the blue dress who looks at her watch and cues her to keep stalling.

"So what is everyone's favorite kind of cookie? Mine is oatmeal raisin, but sometimes I prefer chocolate chip if their really good." She chugs the rest of her champagne in front of the crowd. "Person!" she shouts at a waiter, "More champagne!" The crowd shifts uncomfortably. "Well yep just wanted to make you all feel comfortable, and all you men should know my bedroom--and my legs--" She winks "are open for birthday presents!" Several people gasp or choke on their drink. "Let them eat cookies! Class dismissed!" She giggles and catches the woman in the blue dress laughing as well.

As the guests disperse, she notices more 'waiters' enter the apartment, hiding their guns behind blazers. She knows he won't come without back up, so theres no way everyone is leaving here untouched. She eyes a group of officers circling him and leaning in. One of them tries to touch him, but three other men in black suits quietly draw their guns and point them at the officer. She wants to interfere, to aim a weapon, to arrest, but she knows she can't. Especially not on this mission, and not with this person.

Several other officers place his back up men in handcuffs until he is left completely unprotected and surrounded.

"Everyone clear out!" The police shout. "Clear out, evacuate the building. Now!"

When almost all the guests have left, the other men are pushed into blue and red flashing police cars.

He smiles and takes a step towards her. Every cop whips out their guns.

"It's okay." The mystery woman from the phone rushes in and gives the order. "Clear out. Give them the room." They lower their guns and leave.

He walks over. "Take it off so I can see you." He says in a thick New York accent. She pulls off her blonde wig and shakes her brown hair out. "Ah, mio bella ragazza. It's been a long time, no?" he exhales.

A tear rolls down her cheek. "You shouldn't have sold that drug, papà. You knew the risk, you knew you would get caught, and you did it anyway. You knew we would have to come after you."

"Ah, Nina, this is the biz. This is our world. We all have the same fate. Maybe if you hadn't left home we wouldn't be in this mess!" he jokes and lightly hits her shoulder.

"You know I never wanted any part in that 'biz'" She quotes sadly and grins, knowing him well enough to know what happens next.

"I know. Ti amo, bellissima." He whispers in Italian. And with that he pulls out his gun, shoots himself in the head, and the screen goes black.

"And he dropped to the ground, and died instantly, and she was heartbroken, but she did what needed to be done." A woman says, her eyes filled with hidden tears, "The End."

"Wow. I didn't think he would kill himself!" A boy says.

"That was so beautiful. The way he said he loved her." A girl wipes her tears.

"Stop crying, Lucy!"

"He was her father? Plot twist!" Another girl says.

"Was there more? What happened after, mommy?"

"That's all I can tell you for now," a woman says, maybe in her forties. "It is a very special story, that your grandpa told me when I was a kid. But thats for another day! This is a cookie exchange party for a reason, lets go eat some cookies!"

She rushes the kids out of the room and her phone rings. She immediately recognizes the number and smiles.

"Nina Russo, FBI. I have eyes on the target"

THE END