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The Professional

A classy, and very exclusive, party was in full swing at Cordelia House. Hundreds of guests danced and dined the massive ballroom, milling about tables laden with scrumptious-looking treats and carafes of colorful beverages. There were avocado fingers and raspberry cordial, squares of ambrosia and deep, red wine, all finely displayed on gilded tables in the center of the room.

Spirits were high as the visitors celebrated the grand opening of the new amphitheater. Broadway stars littered the guest list, along with award-winning producers, directors, and composers. This was the event of the year. The newspapers couldn’t even begin to describe the luxury showcased at this posh affair. The tickets to attend were fifteen grand apiece, and if you weren’t on the invite list, you were out of luck.

This ensured only the richest, most influential people in the country would be present. Just as Jesse wanted it. Jesse Krunk was the mastermind behind this party. He’d been hired by the owners of the amphitheatre to throw the lavish gala, and now was in the prime position to make his real profit – relieving these fine folks of their precious jewels and coin. His sleight-of-hand skills were top-notch, and he soon had at least forty-thousand dollars in jewelry. He had a friendly appearance, putting people at ease with a confident aura, even if his nose was oddly large. Still, he was welcomed among the elite. Another pass through the crowded room with his wireless skimming tool rewarded him with over $200,000. Not a bad night. 

Jesse smiled, mentally patting himself on the back, and sauntered over to the coat check to retrieve his long gray trench. The young clerk behind the counter took his ticket and returned moments later with the garment. While the party was still hours from winding down, he left Cordelia House as surreptitiously as possible. When the night was over, he walked away a cool quarter-million dollars richer.

His ruse was discovered over the next few days, but Jesse Krunk was long gone. In fact, he’d never even existed at all. Jesse’s identity, backgrounds, references – everything that made him the obvious choice for this job – had been fabricated to a professional degree. It’s possible, the guests suspected, he may even have been wearing a disguise. Many remembered the proboscis nose of his. Wherever he was, whoever he was, he would certainly be remembered by those in attendance that night.


Written for the #ThreeThingsChallenge #331 – ‘Cordial, Wine, Spirits

Written for the Word of the Day Challenge – ‘Proboscis

Written for Your Daily Word Prompt #YDWordPrompt – ‘Describe

Written for the RagTag Daily Prompt #RDP – ‘Party

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