After two long weeks of recovery and two long weeks of Xander's boring company, I got back to my usual routine. Waking up, having a long cold shower, wearing something dark that matches my personality and showing up at LAPD if I didn't have any interesting engagement. Boring? You'll get used to it.
"Good to have you back, sunshine." Marlon acknowledged as he appeared through the door to his office, a file in hand.
I was already seated across from his chair, holding a cup of coffee in hand that I had bought before I made it there. His office was huge and very neat. By the window was a dark brown leather settee enough to fit at least three people. The window had a nice view of the department's training arena where some cops were busy kicking their butts off for some subsequent assignments.
I remembered one time I was on the beautiful grass field, using up my spare time. I had just being released from jail, claiming I could help the cops with a case. Of course, they didn't believe me, so I just had to prove them wrong. It went really well.
Beside the door was a Magnolia flower plant balanced in a shiny white clay pot. It brought out a serene atmosphere in the room. The floor was carpeted with a dark brown wool carpet that contrasted really well with the baby blue walls. This guy had good taste.
"Don't call me that." I said, taking a sip from the cup.
"Of course." He replied smiling, sitting down, resting his arms on the pinewood desk. He leaned forward, looking intently at me.
"What? Is there something on my face?"
"No! I was just wondering why you didn't bring me coffee."
I rolled my eyes and scoffed.
"Yeah! Keep wondering." I said coldly, taking another sip.
That's something I don't do. Caring? No one as ever showed me proper care so no one should expect me to reciprocate.
"Okay! Back to work then." He said, sliding a file towards me.
"We never managed to blag any information from the deaf guy since you bailed, but-before you lash out, Becca-we found a new lead."
"Why don't you just bribe the protagonist in your silly story and get away with everything, as usual?" I asked, setting down my now empty cup of coffee on the desk.
"Because, first, we are really in big trouble as LAPD as it is and we are trying to set a good example. Bribing is not. Actually, that's our biggest problem right now."
"What did Mark do?" I asked.
Marlon did not respond. He just looked uneasy and his facial expressions dimmed, making him seem ashen.
"I'm not here to tell you stories of what happened. I'm here to assign a job." He retorted, clearly distasteful.
"May I remind you, I don't work for you. I only came here with my own accords and I can leave whenever I want. You never hired me Marlon. I'm actually doing you a favour." I said, nonchalantly, laying back on the seat, crossing my arms.
I too can play his game. Being part of the case needed me to know the background of the story. Marlon was aware that I could choose to leave anytime soon but he was desperate. I just had to choose my words and he would spill out the contents without so much of a force.
Marlon sighed, "Fine!" He said, leaning back on his chair as well.
"We had a case that was closed a few years back. The Mafia gang had very disturbing images of Mark and I at a club-with girls-during our working hours. They said they won't expose us if we don't push on with their case. Mark was desperate. He needed his job, so, he agreed. Just recently, the Mafioso struck again. No sooner were they brought in than the pictures started circulating like wild fire. Mark was forced to bribe so that the pictures would be deleted. Our higher authority found out we bribed but they don't know why. Our policy is against bribing, so we can lose our jobs anytime. Well, Mark's tactfulness convinced them enough to keep our jobs and work on this case, still involving the gang, just to prove ourselves." He explained, shifting on his chair uncomfortably.
"What about the pictures?"
"Our best hackers are working on that, without the boss' knowledge of course."
I felt like cracking up but I decided against it, keeping my composure.
"So, who's the other lead?" I asked, wanting in on the case.
I took the file Marlon had slid across the desk towards me and opened. A single contact was on the display. I furrowed my eyebrows.
"We don't know his name or his face, just his contact." Marlon said, intertwining his fingers and swinging the back rest of his chair.
"All we know is that he's a doctor. They guy is also believed to be the Mafia's ring leader which I want you to prove if it's true or not."
"What makes you think he's the ring leader?" I asked.
Suddenly, the door flew open and Mark walked in, staring at his phone throughout. He didn't even spare a glance. He just walked straight to the couch by the window, seemingly unaware of his surrounding.
"Sometimes I wonder why and how he's the head of LAPD and not you." I told Marlon.
"Was that a way of you complimenting me? He asked.
"Don't get ahead of yourself, buddy."
"I'll still take it as a compliment. So, uh...where were we again?"
"Why do you think the guy is the ring leader?"
"Word on the street has it. Also, for starters, there's no information about him in our database. No picture of him, his background, ID number, none! We just go by what we heard. That he's a doctor and a privy, receiving all the information about the Mafia. He must know something. Find him and bring him for questioning."
"No!" I said, secretly typing the contact into my phone.
"No?" Marlon questioned.
I slid the file back towards him.
"I'll do this on my terms."
"This is just a prima facie. We don't know anything about this guy just rumours from the street and I can't risk it. He might be an immigrant who just settled."
"That explains the lack of his information on our database but not the fact that he's a privy of the huge, famous gang in California."
"I'll bring the information you need, just not in your terms." I said as I got to my feet.
I turned to walk away but a tug on my wrist suggested otherwise.
"Becca, don't ruin our chance..."
"Let the girl do what she does. She's good at it and you know that." Mark intervened, his attention still on his phone.
I snatched back my wrist.
"I'll handle it." I said then walked out of the office.
Who do you think the contact belongs to?
Stood outside of the large grey LAPD building and taking in the fresh air, staring at nothing in particular. The damp air inside the building was making me nauseous. How do the cops survive in there? Or was it just me?My phone suddenly buzzed in my front jean pocket, jolting me out of my daze. I took it out and looked at the caller ID.
I picked a lollipop from the lollipop jar I always keep by my door as I entered my house, slumping on my settee. I was just from the coffee shop after been bailed. Guess I just didn't rethink my plans.Never before have my plans failed. The guy I was dealing with at the moment was different. It's like he knew my every move, knew what I was thinking or what I was to say. That explains the constant interruptions. Maybe he had heard the lines one to many times but he was manly and mature enough to finish the sentences in his head rather than blurt them out like a five year old.
"Becca! Becca! Wake up!-Goddamn it! Wake up, Becca! You've never slept in." Someone said in my ear, stroking me lightly.As far as I was concerned, I lived alone and no one but Xander and the police knew.I didn't open my eyes because I thought I was dreamin
I stared at my reflection in the mirror. I had on a short, two-piece, black bodycon dress with a slit on my left side for flexibility. I was left-handed in writing and in fighting. The slit was an added advantage.I accompanied my look with some light make-up, peach lip gloss and black ey
I needed a drink.I filled my wine glass then made my way to the said table. I picked a random chair and sat, waiting nervously. I quickly regained my composure when four handsome men walked towards me.I leaned on the chair and sipped from my glass, plastering a smile
I stared at the beaten man in front of me. His jet black hair was scruffy, his brows a bush over his eyes and had a dirty line of shaven moustache under his nose. His nose looked broken one too many times as it faced the left.His white dress shirt and pair of black dress pants were covered with a layer of dust from when I tuckled him to the ground.I didn't have time for him
"Becca!" A voice, low, deep but soft, called.I closed my eyes even tighter not wanting to wake up from my dream where I was the queen of the dark, sitting on a black acrylic royal chair with a gold wood finish. Every morning I woke up, I would walk to the mausoleum connected to my palace by an underground tunnel, clanking my heeled boots along the cobblestone tiles as I checked on my prisoners. Each cell had someone who had crossed my line one way or another. It wasn't until I walked to the end where two cells were separated from the rest. The cells
I knocked on the old, all too familiar oak wood door, memories of the last moments I had there flooding my mind. They were still fresh and bruised just like a wound from a bicycle fall.My foster mother opened the door. Shocked to see me, she called my foster father then moved to hug me."I can't believe you are here. We left off on the wrong foot. I never thought you'd come back." Shamali said pulling away just as Ian appeared beside her."Becca! It's so great to see you." He said, hugging me too then ushered me inside.I walked in the newly renovated house. What used to be a polished wooden floor was replaced by a stone vinyl cushion. The wood on the stairs was evenly polished and shiny, a brown carpet running all through only allowed to expose the sides.Just by the door, there was a long, raised stool cabinet that gracefully held three picture frames. Two of them were of Shamali and Ian in Venice while the other one, between the two was of me whe