The gift

The mission briefing also did not stipulate that I had to take the shortest or the fastest route. I cruise through the city, taking whatever road looks fun to drive on, overtaking and cutting off other cars for no reason except to drive her car like an asshole, as if I could rack up some bad karma on the car itself. I eventually make it to the upscale shopping center detailed on the business card. I pull the car into a clearly marked NO PARKING fire lane.

I take out the birthday card and give it a closer look, debating if I can open it gently to preserve the envelope. The corners release a little as I work my car key into the cracks, but after that, the seal holds firmly. I've heard of steaming them open, but that isn't an option, so I make a feeble attempt at using my warm breath to soften the adhesive. It didn't work. I knew it wouldn't work, but it didn't cost me anything to try. I finally just go for it, running the key hard between the folds. The envelope tears. Well fuck it, I just tear it open the rest of the way.

The card is classy, I wouldn't expect any less from one person with a stick up their ass to another. There are no pre-written jokes or obnoxiously tinny music players inside. Just a handwritten note from bitch daughter to bitch mother.

Happy Birthday to my lovely mother Penelope
I thought of you when I found this

I apologize that it is delivered late. It took an extra a couple days to find it in your size

Love you, Victoria

Well, that is a reasonable, if not obvious, way of covering for the fact that she forgot her mother's birthday completely. I look around in the car and find a pen that looks like a match for the one used to write this. I did my best to mimic Victoria's handwriting to add an extra 'e' on the end of Penelope, just a to throw a little salt in the wound of being late. What kind of shitty daughter doesn't know how to spell her mother's name? Since the envelope is now torn, I'll have to find a new one in the store.

I leave the car parked illegally and find the shop. It is a women's fashion boutique for people ready to spend serious money. I walk to the counter and invoke Victoria's name for the pickup. The employee shows the items to me. It is a hat and a belt. The hat is white and wide brimmed. The designer's identity immortalized on it by a small but prominent metal rectangle embossed with a logo to signal how expensive it is. The belt is also white to match and they are both quite small. Penelope must be a petite woman. They are already paid for but not yet wrapped. I mention that it should be gift wrapped, and I am pointed to the back corner of the store where I should show them the receipt.

On my way to the back of the store, I got another idea to undermine the gift. But it would cost me some money.