Morning.
At present.
The following day.
Carlos got loose from Sharee’s cuddle as he tried to get out of the bed. He’d get no work done if he remained a second longer.
“Stay,” Sharee opened her eyes and stopped Carlos.
“You know I want to,” he stood up before Sharee’s charm got the best of him.
It was 3:11 in the morning, a little early for commuters, but not for them. Carlos had work, Sharee on the other hand had a routine to maintain.
She got out of bed as well and took a quick shower. When she returned, she gave him his shirt which he forgot in the bathroom yesterday. Carlos was still in her room when she got back, waiting for her so he could say goodbye.
“I hope your coming here is not an excuse to skip Sunday,” said Sharee as they got locked in an embrace.
“Of course it’s not. I came here because I missed you,” he reasoned.
Leaving her, she heard his steps take him towards the door and into his car. It was her cue to jump into her jogging pants, but a thought prevented her from doing so.
She sat on the bed and looked at the calendar on her phone.
Yesterday was Dante’s birthday.
Her enthusiasm drifted away. She lost the desire to put her legs in motion on her daily run. Instead, she buried herself under the sheets. Carlos’ scent lingered in her bed but it wasn’t enough to erase Dante from her mind. Pressing her head against the pillow, she forced herself back to sleep. It shouldn’t have been a big deal, but every little shard of her past relationship had the ability to gather the whole past and make her know how much it hurt.
She felt she was about to dream when she was startled by her phone. Vibrating violently, she picked it up. The phone was already on her ear before she realized that the caller was the unknown number from before.
What could he possibly want at this hour?
“Hello…?”
___________________________________________________________________________
Arriving on a black limo, an attendant reached for the door and assisted a man as he stepped out of his luxurious service. The man looked to be in his late twenties, but still had the vices of a kid as he was frequently seen roaming around town from bars to party places. He wore long black sleeves folded up just below his elbows and shades which he took off as he got out of the sun.
“Have it washed. No scratches,” he signaled the chauffer to take care of his baby.
Catching up, his secretary walked beside him. She had three main jobs, excluding being a human coffee maker– remind him of his daily schedule, answer his calls, and wear provocative clothes. She’s the second one said that he’s had affairs with behind locked office doors, sometimes on office hours. The first one got fired for getting pregnant.
Pure business.
“…Are they all here?” the man asked the smart-looking lady beside him as they made their way to the conference room while he raised his arm to see his watch. She wore the type of glasses that make people look nerdy.
“Ah…a…all except one, sir. Prosecutor Moroveza couldn’t make it,” she nervously answered as she pretended to look over something on her clipboard.
The man looked at his secretary the way he glared at solicitors.
“Listen, miss…ah…what’s you name again?”
“Mara, sir.”
“Miss Mara, right,” he stopped on his steps, halting the secretary as well as his two personal bodyguards that followed him everywhere from behind, “Listen, I was in the middle of something important, and you called me, telling me they’re waiting for me. When you said they, I presumed you mean “they” as in all of them. The absence of one is excusable, but not someone as important as the fucking prosecutor. Do you understand?” he said, scolding the now frightened woman.
“Yes sir. I’m sorry, sir” she apologized as she avoided his dark eyes.
Proper decorum had always been a necessity for him to be present, and he defines proper decorum as complete attendance. His blood boiled to a thermometer’s maximum whenever he saw an empty which supposedly should be supporting someone’s butt.
“I don’t want to have this conversation again, you hear me? Vamos,” he continued walking as she tailed him, not giving her a chance to swear her utmost obedience next time.
He never wanted to be preceded while on the move. He wanted everyone to walk behind him and him in front. His groupie was usually made up of his two bodyguards and a seductive woman whom everyone would think was his girlfriend, not knowing that she’s actually his secretary. This formation made him look like a very important man, though he already was without them. It was a method to make him stand out amongst others.
From the outside, an exchange of conversations was audible. The man coughed to clear his throat and fixed his collar before entering the room. Everyone stood up as the twin doors swung open.
“Good morning Mayor de la Vega,” said one. The rest followed, almost at once, but not really.
Roman de la Vega III – current mayor of Shallowlake. One of the most respected figures around the town. After the assassination of Roman de la Vega Jr., his son was quick to take over. Seizing control was of importance and it was a matter of choice between the wife and only son.
He prevailed.
Very influential, Roman has served as mayor for more than his term. Serving beyond one’s term was a great honor, but only to those who cared for honor. Their family’s rival since the beginning of time, the Villahermanos, have been utterly losing the elections by landslide for eight straight years, thanks to his family’s thick wallets. Each and every eligible de la Vega owned a coin purse which could buy anything on the spot.
Today, he’s called each of his subordinates to his mansion to discuss an urgent matter.
“What deterred the prosecutor from today’s appointment?” Roman began as everyone took their seat.
As if afraid that he would turn into a monster upon the sound of anything, silenced embraced the room. Nobody looked at Roman. All their heads were either down or away from his line of sight. Some pretended to be busy, but the mayor knew they were charades.
Everyone in the room started breathing again when Caesare opened his mouth. Only he could’ve have done it. It’s his talent as a lawyer. He spoke whenever there’s a need for voice. He believed he was given a mouth for something and he’s never scared to use it.
“She’s currently attending a case, sir,” explained Caesare.
“Fine. It’s useless to dwell on her absence when our hands are full. Do you know why you’re here?” Roman said as he gave each a quick look in the eye.
Starting to look like a fool, Roman was talking to himself, for no one dared speak. Though handsome in some regard, everyone is intimidated whenever he’s around.
“Have you no tongue? Do you have any idea of what’s been happening while you sulked in your beds? Yesterday, the convoy that was going to bring one of the prisoners who broke out of Silverburg returned with wounds like whipped dogs. The driver was spared while four of our men are currently admitted in the ward,” relayed the mayor, “The prisoner escaped with the aid of someone.”
“So I’ve heard. But who could have done it?” asked a gentleman wearing a tie, almost hesitant to say something.
“Make a wild guess,” said Roman, a sarcastic way to say “use what little brain God granted you”, “Do you not watch the news at all?”
“It must be Moltisanti,” said another one sitting at the far end of the table.
“Right, actually, he sent a letter via the convoy’s driver. One addressed for…ah…let’s see,” Roman added as he asked his secretary for the envelope, which she handed over to him immediately, “Ethan Tandell-Caesare.”
Everyone’s attention was directed to him at once.
“M…me?” Caesare said in disbelief as the mayor’s hand extended towards him, holding out the envelope.
The entire room fell quiet once more, eager to know what’s written on the paper Caesare pulled out from the envelope. Disappointed, everyone discovered that he was a silent reader, ironic, for he was a loud speaker.
“See you soon,” the words were etched in ink, “-Dante Moltisanti”
“See you soon, that’s all it said,” Caesare’s heart was racing with his breath as he passed the letter for the others to see.
“I consider this a direct threat. It was a mistake that we let him live,” said the mayor.
“What shall we do?”
“We watch our backs, while Caesare needs to lie low,” Roman warned, “We have Mondeigo with us, I trust you’re working on this,” the mayor said, motioning to Mondeigo sitting near him.
Present at the meeting was Goldshire County’s finest man. Mondeigo, willing to round the runaway dogs up, was eager to recapture Cristoval who got free either because Dante was good, or the police were incompetent.
“Yes I am. As a matter of fact, I have interesting news. If you can recall, the police station was robbed the other day. Forensics said evidence from the storage went vapor and guess what the missing pieces of evidence have in common,” said Mondeigo like he was giving a riddle for kindergarten pupils to solve.
They leaned forward, waiting for him to solve his own riddle.
“Everything traces back to Dante. I have relayed this information with the police and we’re currently working on it. It’s too much to be just a coincidence. We have a lead now. The theft at the station definitely has something to do with that criminal,” explained Mondeigo.
“What does he want?” Caesare asked.
“Think of it. If I throw you in prison and you escape, what would you do?” Roman questioned back.
“…revenge,” he whispered unto himself, realizing that he was the lawyer of the prosecution during Dante’s trial.
“We can’t afford mistakes here. If Ethan goes down, we’re next,” warned the mayor. As if it wasn’t already in each and everybody’s mind.
“I’m not from here, so correct me if I’m wrong,” Mondeigo said.
“What is it?” the mayor grunted, weary of small talk.
“Tomorrow’s the Shallowlake festival, right?
“Yes. So?” Roman scratched the back of his head.
“I have a plan,” said Mondeigo, eyeing the piece of envelope that contained Dante’s love letter to Caesare.