Carmen’s shopping bags were dangling on her arms as she made her way out of Gucci. She placed her bags in the back of her new BMW Convertable she had got as a present from some guy who’s name she doesn’t remember and probably wasn’t important enough to remember. She was pretty thirsty after the late night with many shots. She walked towards the usual coffee shop, the Planet. She could feel the two undercover bodyguards her dad sent lurking around. She sighed and walked on. She despised their presence always looming over her like a dark shadow. Usually when some nice person approached her and did something good, she’d find out later on that the nice fellow would probably be in the hospital.

Shane ran through the streets as the chilly fall wind stung her face. The leather jacket was getting hot, but she’d probably catch a cold if she took it off and Bette would lecture her about taking care of herself. She could hear her black converses hitting the concrete floor. Today was much colder than normal. Carmen was running in the direction towards Shane dodging through the alleys losing the bodyguards easily. This was probably the only good part of having them around. She loved watching them look for her frantically. She was looking behind her when she ran straight into Bobby. Bobby who was pretending to be a bad guy. He actually could pass, just a bit chubby, but then again most

bad guys were a bit chubby. Bobby was very proud of himself for his crafty disguise.

Bobby: Yo, girly what where you’re going.

Bobby’s thought: Oh nice accent. Way to go Bobby.

Carmen looked at him and frowned.

Carmen: Get out of my way, fat ass.

Bobby: What did you say?

Three men walked up behind Carmen. They were all undercover cops. Just 15 minutes ago they were crowded into Bobby’s apartment and were putting on different "thuggish" clothes they thought would make them look very intimidating.

Henchmen: Boss, she’s pretty. Why don’t you have her for tonight?

Bobby scratched his chin. He didn’t shave all week just to show his manliness. 

Bobby: You’re in luck girly, you’re my type.

Carmen: Oh sorry, but you’re not mine.