Miss Demeanour
Miss Demeanour worked the tables in the Monte Carlo Lights.
She was beautiful and cool. Stiletto healed.
While her broken-hearted parents searched the city streets by night.
And by every single method they appealed.
For the slightest information. If she would only get in touch.
By a letter or a call. A telegram.
But of that life she’d left behind her, well she didn’t need reminders
Because Miss Demeanour didn’t give a damn.
…..
She was selfish through and through. Self motivated too
She acted on an instinct. Not a plan
She’d worked hard to get this far, on her back or in a bar
And no one else would stop her. Least of all a man.
She could fight and she could curse, she had Euros in her purse
She had the moves to make a man’s heart stop
She had no sense of shame and in a very private game
She dealt cards from the bottom not the top
…..
She’d been paid well in advance by a croupier from France
When he told her she must she agreed.
With hands that moved so fast, the Master Cards she passed
Super-confident that no one else would see
The game was very quickly done with huge stakes lost and won
The loser was from Rome and before she’d left for home
She got an offer that she couldn’t refuse
…..
She was taken to the car park. To a darkened limousine
He drove her to a cliff top by the Med
She didn’t scream or cry and he understood just why
When she plunged her switchblade knife into his head.
The Headlines next day “MAFIOSO BLOWN AWAY!” Miss Demeanour picked up the phone
They’d sworn a Vendetta that they would come and get her
Miss Demeanour turned her car North for Home
Pc06