Page 27 of The Birthday Girl
Mercedes snapped her gum. “You should remember, I have what you want, which means I’m running the show, and I’m not handing over nothing until I see the money.”
“It doesn’t work like that.” Tahlia shook her head, her beautiful curls bouncing around her shoulders. “You give me everything first, and then you get paid.”
Mercedes’ eyes narrowed, her smirk fading. “I don’t think so. Money first, or there’s no deal.”
The silence stretched between them until Mercedes scoffed, rolling her eyes. “You know what? I’m not about to play games with you. I got better ways to spend my night, and I can definitely get more for what I have than what you’re offering. I was trying to doyoua favor, but I guess you don’t want it.”
She turned on her heel, strutted toward the driver’s side door of her vehicle, and waved. “Bye, bitch.”
“Mercedes.” Tahlia’s voice carried after her, each syllable sharpened with intent. “The most I can do is let you see the money, but you can’t have it until we make the exchange.”
She didn’t stumble. Not once. Her tone struck the perfect balance of weary and convincing, like a woman reluctantly pushed to her last compromise. Even the tilt of her head and the faint sigh she threaded into her words were all staged.
Desperation was the role, and she played it flawlessly because Tahlia knew that if she gave Mercedes nothing, she would know something was up.
“Deal. I just wanna make sure you’re not playing me,” Mercedes said, rubbing her hands greedily.
"Alright. Come on." Tahlia pivoted toward her sedan.
Mercedes’ footsteps quickened behind her, and the corner of her mouth twitched upward with glee.
Tahlia unlocked the rear door with a flick of her wrist and stepped aside, gesturing toward the dark leather interior. Her expression remained polished, not a smile out of place, not a breath uneven.
“There it is. Take a look.”
Mercedes licked her lips and leaned into the car, her breath fogging the glass as she reached for the duffel. She reached for her winnings, nails tapping the zipper in a frenzied staccato that matched the rush in her chest when she tugged it closer.
Tahlia watched the way Mercedes’ eyes widened with hunger, her fingers twitching as if she could already feel the cash in her hands. Greed dripped off her like sweat, making her almost too easy to bait.
Greed, Tahlia thought, was never the sin they claimed it to be. It was the truth people tried to bury. Everyone wanted more—more money, more love, more power. Only the weak convinced themselves that enough was noble. Enough was nothing but failure dressed in virtue.
She had never feared greed. She embraced it. Greed was what separated the bold from the broken. It was what gave her the edge, what made her sharper, faster, untouchable. And when she saw it in others, it became her weapon.
Mercedes’ greed made her sloppy. It blinded her to the danger standing three feet away. That was the beauty of it. Greed would kill her long before Tahlia ever needed to.
“Now that's what I'm talking about,” she whispered, rubbing her cheek against the bag.
Mercedes, so engrossed with the money, didn't hear the soft click of Tahlia's clutch opening behind her. Her fingers closed around the cold steel, grounding her in the moment.
Mercedes, too lost in her hunger, didn’t notice the subtle shift in Tahlia’s posture, or the quiet control in her breath, until the butt of the pistol cracked against her skull with a force that reverberated through Tahlia’s wrist.
Her head snapped sideways, her gold hoops swinging wildly as her mouth formed a perfect O, no sound escaping. She crumpled, face-first onto the duffel, one arm sliding off the leather seat, fingertips grazing the car floor mat.
“Wha—” Mercedes tried to speak, but Tahlia silenced her with a sharp pinprick beneath her jaw.
She pressed the syringe deep, watching the liquid slide into her bloodstream. Tahlia’s lips curved faintly as she leaned close so Mercedes could hear every word.
“Relax, Cedes. I didn’t poison you,” she whispered, her breath brushing the woman’s ear. “You’ll be awake and very aware. You just won’t be able to lift a finger to save yourself.”
Mercedes’ eyes bulged as the drug spread. Cold fire rippled under her skin, like ice water flooding her veins. Her tongue went numb against her teeth, her mouth falling slack as if her body had forgotten how to obey.
She tried to scream, but the only sound was a wet click, small and pathetic. Her fingers scraped at the leather seat, then fell open, useless.
Tahlia tilted her head, her gaze trailing over Mercedes as if she were admiring a portrait. “You feel it, don’t you? The paralysis. You’ve never looked more beautiful than you do right now, trapped inside yourself.”
Mercedes’ chest fluttered with shallow breaths, her eyes frantic in their sockets. Her lips parted, trembling, but no sound escaped.
Tahlia’s hand rose, and the back of her knuckles brushed across Mercedes’ cheek.
