Undercover

 Loud music blared through the speakers, and colorful flashing lights blinded the eyes. The scent of flowery perfume invaded the nose, intermingling with the stench of sweat and alcohol. Hannah was beginning to develop a headache, she decided, massaging her temples.

A nightclub was the last place Hannah Pelham wanted to be on a nice Saturday night. She could be curled up at home with a book and her cat, or watching a nice show with her husband. But the powers-that-be decided that she wasn’t allowed to enjoy a relaxing weekend.


Thankfully, her job was nearly done. She had participated in the dancing and pretended to enjoy it as much as she could. Alcohol was where she drew the line, though. She was technically still on duty. She merely pretended to take sips of drinks the whole night.


Standing up from her seat, she placed her untouched margherita on a table and walked out of the club. When the doors shut behind her, Hannah breathed a sigh of relief. The music was muffled now.


The woman reached into her purse to grab a compact mirror. Her hair and makeup was surely a mess. As she carefully patted down her hair and reapplied her lipstick, a careful eye watched the reflection of another woman leaving the entertainment establishment behind her.


For the moment, Hannah pretended to not notice the company. Her posture was deliberately slumped, expression tired, and hands shaky. In order to give off the right impression, she had to act like she was drunk.


Right on cue, the woman came to a stop behind her, shimmery green skirt fluttering in the breeze. “The music’s loud in there, isn’t it? Had to get out for a breath. The name’s Melissa. What’s yours?”


Hannah looked away from the little mirror to give Melissa a small smile. “My name is Hannah. Nice to meet you. I was just about to head home, actually, I’m really exhausted.”


 “Oh,” the second woman said in concern. “Is that safe? You seemed like you were drinking a lot back there. Do you want me to drive you home? Us girls have to stick together, you know?” She grinned cheerfully, taking her phone out of her pocket.


Melissa never noticed as the drunk girl’s hand snuck behind her, until it was too late. Before she could realize it, a handcuff was tight on her wrist. Before she could process what had happened, her hands were behind her back and bound. She tried to struggle, but it seemed futile.


“Don’t bother,” the now-sober looking Hannah said, getting her phone out of her pocket and calling someone. “Melissa Hoover, age 24, you’re being arrested for human trafficking. Your partner waiting for us in your car had been arrested an hour ago by my husband.”


Offering the panicking woman a small smirk, Hannah turned away. “Hope you enjoyed your night.”

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