THE LIPSTICK PRINT (Mystery Story)

Chapter 2

Shantelle watched through her apartment window as a sleek, black car drew up right outside her house. MI5 car. She was ready, and she looked every inch L.A.R. It was too risky for anyone outside of MI5 to know who she really was, because enemies would be at her doorstep right away, and there were the newspapers.

Her red stilettos clip clopped against the empty corridor as she opened her front door. A harsh breeze bit her powdered cheeks as she strided with purpose towards the car before her. She knew she looked every inch the Lady In Red.

Her jet-black bob gleamed in the sun whilst her now blunt fringe swayed gently in the breeze. This look which the newspapers and Fashion Police complimented every time, little did they know, it wasn''t her natural hair. Her natural hair was actually a light, sandy brown colour and cascaded in gentle waves up to her shoulders rather than her majorly straightened wig. Bright, gleaming red was the only way to describe her pouting lips, which she has rubbed with ruby red lipstick and outlined in blood red lip liner for a marilyn monrou look. She had complimented it by a single beauty spot she had drawn on in eyeliner right in the middle of her cheek. Her skin looked pale and vampire-like rather than her naturally tanned color, due to the amount of white powder she had plastered onto her skin, and her eyes were outlined in thick,black kohl. Shantelle would normally look in the newspapers at herself like a SECOND MIRROR, BEFORE COPYING THE SAME LOOK.

On her feet were a pair of gleaming red stilettos, matching her bright red detective-trench coat. Under her trench coat, was a tight, buisniss skirt resting above her knees, paired off with fishnets. She looked fierce and undestroyable, and she knew it.

Hesitating, shantelle fumbled in her coat pocket for a pair of vivid blue contacts. This part of the look was the one that she dreaded- The contacts. She liked the color of her eyes, a murky sea-green color, but having a different eye color makes you look even more different and unrecognisable, so she slipped on a pair of bright azure blue contacts which she then decided to cover up with stylish sunglasses. They felt itchy and raw on her eyes, and she had to use immense will power not to attack her eyes.

HONK!!!!!! That was her cue. Shantelle sped towards the car and slipped into the slippery, velvet seats.

"What took you so long?" The driver snarled.

L.A.R raised a penciled eyebrow at him.

"Really Jerry? I thought you'd gotten used to my 'tardy, late ways' by now. Oh but you sure weren't last time you were snoozing in the car."

Mr Gordon squirmed in his seat, an uncomfortable redness seeping on his wrinkled face. "Don't. Call. Me. Jerry. It's Mr Gordon to you."

Shantelle especially didn't like her driver, and bit back with venomous words.

"Why? Ashamed? Scared that I might be the Tom for your Jerry?"

Mr Gordon gave a low chuckle, before starting the car and heading onto the road.

"Pot, say hello to Kettle."

A frown settling onto her face, "And what are you implying by that?"

"Well, you yattering on about being ashamed of my name when you're the one giving yourself a whole new, fake makeover. Personality. Looks."

For once, L.A.R'S tough shell cracked a little, and she whipped her head to face the window. That one was a little to close to home. Well, she started it, she was going to end this bich fight. As they say, once you kill a cow, you have to make a burger.

"Oh come on Jerry, we both know that's for my safety and disguise."

Mr Gordon rolled his eyes, before pressing the breaks and pausing at the red lights.

"Really? Is this the way to behave as an MI5 college on a mission? I mean, formalness seems to have been chucked out the window."

Thankfully, the green lights switched on and they sped forward.

"Oh Jerry Jerry, now really, who was talking about the kettle and the pot a minute ago?"

"Do you have to make yourself so unpleasant?"

L.A.R tilted her head back and laughed, baring a set of pearly teeth. "Yes Pot, you have now been introduced to Kettle."

"Do you have to bring that up again? Really?"

She shrugged. "Not unless you mind your words, Gorgey!"

Mr Gordon Guffawed, pulling into a driveway. "Gorgey? And I thought Jerry was bad."

"Thought? Oh come on Jerry, you still ARE ashamed of your name. Although it does suit you rather a lot."

"In that case, Madame, Tom suits you well also. With his bullying personality, patronising-"

"Oh Jerry, honestly, you're literaly making me bring up that Pot and Kettle thing."

"Making? I don't see any ransom notes." On that note, he parked his car in front of a tall, bleak building that looked like any other flat. Except inside, was a whole different story. The place was a perfect setting for a top secret company, as it was oddly isolated.

"No, but that breath of yours is even worse." Saucily, she flashed out her purse and offered him a stick of chewing gum.

"Honestly, for your benefit as well as mine."

Rage bubbled up inside the old man's face, whilst his eyes bulged with seething anger. "Oh sod off, you minx."

"Trust me, you don't have to tell me twice!"

Someone rapped on the window.

"Am I interrupting anything?"

Whilst Mr Gordon nervously stumbled for an excuse, L.A.R kept her cool.

"Yes, a rather animated discussion between me and Jerry which has withdrawn a conclusion."

Someone opened the door, and a smirking Thommy appeared in her view.

Now which twin was it? L.A.R flashed out a comb with numbers on it to make a ruler/comb and pressed it against his pinkie finger.

"Yep, Thommy it is."

"Oh come on, was that really necessary?"

"Every person is valued as an individual, and if I cannot even tell the difference between you and your twin then heck, things would be getting confusing."

Thommy nodded with approval, his fat chin wobbling in process as he led her towards her death wish. Sorry, MI5 building.

*Ok, to those of you who haven't heard of the Pot and Kettle phrase, basically, when someone says, it's like the pot calling the kettle black, it's a sign of hypocrisy.*