Point of View

Chapter 14 : A New Player

Going back to Milos’ death at the hands of the police in the church—every time I think about it, it gives me chills. I can’t say if I was lucky or if it was fate, but it still baffles me how the police never discovered my identity. Well, now I’m paying dearly for my freedom—an expensive lawyer, bribes to the police so they stay in the dark, and even paying off my neighbors. My wife can’t be bribed, because she's loyal to me, but she has a love for luxury items that costs me a small fortune.

Is this freedom? Or was Milos the lucky one, escaping this costly future the easy way?

"That’s what Túlio thought."

Today is just another day. I leave the luxury home I bought for my girlfriend, but not before leaving some money on the kitchen table—for shopping or the hairdresser. Not too much, not too little, just enough to keep her from complaining for the rest of the day.

As I walk out, I pass by the café full of "pintas"—as we call the schemers who refuse to work, spending their days drinking and gambling.

Every time I walk past, I say good morning, but I never go in. By 8 a.m., they’re already drinking in groups. They reply, “Good morning,” watching me go by in my well-tailored suit.

For me, this stop is important to maintain appearances. And if I ever need an alibi, I can always say I was seen around that time and walked into my office, which is right next door. I even have a back door to leave unnoticed if necessary.

My office is a luxury real estate agency—really just a front for laundering money and maintaining the image.

Túlio: "This phase of life feels like a second season. I was always responsible, but I wasn’t used to this much responsibility."

While Túlio is in the office, his father Quim, visibly proud, passes by and knocks just to say good morning.
Túlio steps out to speak with him.

Quim: "Good morning, son. How’s business today?"
Túlio: "Nothing special, Dad. Just paperwork and accounts. Maybe a few deals in the works."
Quim: "You’re the best, son! Always selling something. Don’t be so modest."
Túlio: "The only thing I can’t sell is my wife—she’s always complaining and no one wants to buy her."
Quim: "Work more, like I do. That way she’ll have less time to complain."

While they chat, Quim’s friend walks by, delivering newspapers around town. He greets them, and Quim beams with pride.

Quim: "This boy is a machine. Look at this office—looks like a money-printing factory. Should’ve been a banker."

Newspaper Man: "Yeah, I’d be proud too. Not like those kids nowadays, all about drinking and drugs."

Túlio swallows hard, thinking, if only they knew half of what I do.

Suddenly, the roar of a powerful car interrupts everything. The entire street stops to watch. It’s stunning—a black and orange Mustang. The engine’s growl is almost hypnotic.

Quim, staring at the car, says:

Quim: "Damn, are planes driving on the streets now? Someone call Father Gabriel—this must be the devil out looking for fruit."

Newspaper Man: "This one should make the front page. What a cover that would be!"
Túlio: "He’s slowing down—maybe he wants directions..."

The car pulls up in front of Túlio’s office. The window rolls down, revealing a muscular, pale-skinned young man. He sticks his arm out and asks:

Man in the car: "Excuse me, I’m looking for the best real estate office around. I’d like to buy a house here. Can you point me in the right direction?"

Quim: "You’ve found it! Park your spaceship here—my son is the best real estate agent in the country!"

Túlio: "Dad, relax... He’s exaggerating. But yes, maybe I can help you."

Newspaper Man: "This street’s full of businessmen now. Maybe I should quit newspapers and open a library! Haha."

The man laughs.

Valerio: "Nice to meet you all. I’m Valerio Marreta. I’m Italian, here on business, and looking to buy a house to feel comfortable."

Quim and his friend welcome him, and Túlio shakes Valerio’s hand, inviting him into the office to present some options.

Once seated, Valerio looks around and starts the conversation:

Valerio: "You’ve got quite an organized place here."
Túlio: "Thank you. Would you like something—coffee, whisky?"
Valerio: "Depends..."
Túlio: "On what? Do you have a preferred brand?"
Valerio: "Tell me something, Túlio. Is this office soundproof?"
Túlio: "I don’t get the question..."
Valerio: "Well, your dad is just a step away from the glass, talking to his nosy friend, watching us... but I can’t hear him. So I guess he can’t hear us either, right?"
Túlio: "Ah—yes, of course. He’s half-deaf and the glass is thick."
Valerio: "Thick because it’s bulletproof?"

Túlio stiffens and stands from his chair, uneasy. His movement catches the attention of his father and friend outside. Valerio grabs his arm and calmly urges him to sit.

Túlio: "Tell me the truth—was that a joke or are you a cop?"

Valerio: "No, Túlio. I’m a trafficker. And I’ve heard about you. They say you’re good with numbers and discreet."

Túlio: "If you’re a cop, I’ll politely ask you to leave."

Valerio: "You think a cop could afford a car like that? Or do you want me to show you more?"

Túlio: "Who sent you?"

Valerio: "No one. But your reputation precedes you. In this business, and at my level, I have to know everything. I came here because I want to be your new supplier."

Túlio: "If my reputation precedes me, you should know I don’t work with strangers."

Valerio: "Yes, but I know everything about you and your family. You just don’t know me yet. And that whisky you offered earlier would taste pretty good now."

As Túlio rises to pour the whisky, Valerio pulls an envelope from his pocket and places it on the table.

Once seated again:

Túlio: "What’s this?"
Valerio: "Open it after I leave. Inside are three things to help you consider my offer. They’re yours whether you accept or not."
Túlio: "What things? And what’s the offer?"
Valerio: "You’ll see soon. Now, if you’ll excuse me—it was a pleasure. Thanks for the whisky and your hospitality. As for the house—I was serious. I want the most discreet one you’ve got. Here’s my contact."

Valerio stands and exits. On the way out, he says goodbye to Quim and the friend still chatting outside. Instead of getting into the Mustang, he walks to the road where a black van with tinted windows pulls up. He gets in and drives off.

Túlio watches from his office as he opens the envelope. Inside are three things: money, a car key, and a photo of his wife and their dog. On the back of the photo, a note reads:

"As I said, these things are yours. Take good care of them. The keys are for the Mustang—it’s yours now."

Túlio mutters to himself:

Túlio: "Son of a bitch. Things were finally calm..."
He walks to the window, whisky in hand, and stares at the orange Mustang while he drinks.