The mark sat by himself at a lovely table near the window, a glass of a pretentious chardonnay in his hand. Clare nodded to herself from her vantage point near the ladies' room; he looked just desperate enough for her company to be welcome, but she decided to give him a couple more minutes to stew.
Clare had grown up hard, and had learned very early that the fastest
way to success in life was by using what she had to get what she
wanted. Her mother had taught her all about men; Clare had lost count of
the number of dates her mother brought home. But it kept the rent paid
and put food on the table for Clare and her sisters, and that was all
that mattered to them. Now Clare was out on her own.
Stand up, shoulders back, chin level with the floor, and smile.
Clare sashayed into the main room of the restaurant, aiming straight
for her target. The mark watched her walk his way, anticipation tensing
his features. Clare walked right past him to sit at the next table,
where her own glass of wine sat. The waiter approached her, and she
ordered the prime rib.
The mark was waiting for his
blind date to appear, Clare knew. She'd happened to hear her coworker
discussing an upcoming date; it wasn't difficult to leave a phone
message indicating that the date had been cancelled. Then she'd made
reservations at the same place, requesting a nearby table. When he was
sufficiently upset about being stood up, Clare would begin her routine,
sobbing quietly, but loud enough. He would be
curious, they would talk. The two of them would bond over their woeful
experiences, and soon, his money would be all hers.
Clare had it all planned out. She knew her craft. She just hoped that this one wouldn't need killing.
The prompt is the third definition of the word CRAFT. And you get a bonus verse, just because I happened to have it running through my brain while I was writing, and I had to get it out.
Every spider knows well his craft,
knows just which silver, silken webs to weave,
to draw each briefly dazzled fly into his lair.
The spider's lifelong task is to ever so cleverly deceive.