Chapter 7 ~ Santana's POV
"Hey, Lopez! I think I got something!"
"Kinda busy right now, Perone."
"Oh please, all you've been doing is filing your nails the last ten minutes. Just take a quick look at this." David insists with enthusiasm and excitedly gestures towards his laptop screen. I groan and remove myself from the leather couch I'd been occupying previous, smooth my skirt down once and walk behind Perone's desk to view the screen.
"Well, what is it? All I see is random, blurry people waiting to cross Tenth Avenue and 42nd."
"Yeah, which is pretty close to Times Square, might I add. But that's kinda irrelevant." I roll my eyes and let out a clearly unimpressed huff. If it's irrelevant than why even bring it up? Does he not realize we're on a deadline here?
"Right, Perone, you've got ten seconds to give me some actual facts afores I ends you, we clear?" He glares at me for a millisecond before submitting and instead opening a new window with a duck of his head and some swift mouse clicks. I'm tapping my fingers impatiently on his desk when he coughs quietly and vaguely points to the screen yet again.
"I added contrast and cropped the snapshot to what's actually important to us. If our previous street camera photos are anything to go off of, then I think we've got another sighting of Wonder Woman. This was only taken about eight minutes ago so there's a good chance she's within range still."
I pull the laptop to myself and lean closer. The woman has beautiful light hair back in a tight bun and appears to be carrying something rolled up under her arm. No doubt though, it looks like a match. Something tickles in the back of my brain but considering her face is still mostly turned from the view point I can't identify the strange notion and dismiss it a second later as investigator's intuition. The itch continues to linger though even when I cross the room with quick strides to grab my jacket, fedora, and Nikon D7000.
"Track the other corner cams and let me know if you pick her up again. Page me." And with that I'm out the door and on my way to the elevator.
Rachel's bouncing ahead of me with a huge grin on her face. We just finished a lovely yoga session at the Central park and are heading over to our favorite Italian restaurant for some lunch.
"I'll never understand how meditating can put you in such a bouncy mood when all it does is mellow me out."
"Weeeeell Britt-y, maybe you're not doing it right." I chuckle and shake my head. Secretly I love that Rachel is in such a good mood, she's been pretty down lately. I can't really put a finger on the reason, but I think it's got something to do with her current Broadway show coming to an end soon. But I mean; she's already got her next script so I think there's more to it than a final curtain call.
"Yeah, no, I don't think so. I think you're actually doing some stuff on the side, if ya catch my drift." I quirk an eyebrow in what's supposed to be a suggestive look but turns into a shocked one when I nearly run into a street lamp and begin to apologize. Flustered, I begin to awkwardly take my hair out of its tight bun while mumbling about the unfortunate placements of street lamps under my breath. Rachel gets another good laugh at me before I turn around and promptly bonk her on the head with my orange yoga mat.
"Oh chickie, you're lucky we're here already or I'd have to declare world war three on you right here, right now." The little diva places her fists on her hips and gives me a disapproving look before grinning and eagerly tugging the door open with a loud jingle.
Ah, nothing better than a huge waft of pasta when you've just exercised. We get seated quickly and right by the windows at a table for two. Drinks ordered; Rachel launches into a synopsis of her newest play while I stack some sugar packets with varying levels of success on my placemat. It's not until the bread's already on the table and Rachel has reached the "absolutely pivotal" scene that the heavy door reopens with a chorus of bells. I'm still focused on my building until I hear a quiet "Brittany?" from behind.
This is so pointless. Seriously. This ain't no village, we're in New York City! You can't just search for a person based on a black and white still that was taken twenty minutes ago and expect to find them. It's like a grown up version of Where's Waldo that involves paying cabbies and dodging mass crowds heading your way.
After a good ten more minutes of searching the packed pavements, I decide it's high time to call uncle and grab some lunch. I consider the Panera Bread across the street but opt for a more hole-in-the-wall place I've only ever eaten at once for a work date. It's called Luigi's in what couldn't be a more stereotypical Italian reference, but it's legit from what I remember.
I'm grabbing the door when I notice the couple dining in a window seat, is that Brittany? Who's she with?
There are chimes as I step in and skip the hostess setup and instead walk directly towards the window table. I'm caught between a grin and frown as I apprehensively call-out:
"Brittany?"
Wow, so I suck. Yeah I know. I neglected my author duties for a long time. I do profusely apologize, but that's not gonna get us much of anywhere, is it? So instead I'll try my best to get another chapter out by this coming Friday (the 11th) or maybe even two ^.^
Yeah so, some coincidental meeting-up in this chapter and maybe Santana will finally put two and two together?
Oh and, unless somebody would like me to, I'm only going to label the first point of view in each chapter and during the rest it'll mostly be highlighted by a cut or just- hello -the fact that it's now somebody else's story, haha. But if somebody would like me to label each POV change: will & can do.
