"Hello?"
"Hey, Frank, it's Stella."
"Oh, hey, Stella. What's up?"
"I need to talk to you, can you come over?"
"Ah... Yeah, hold on, gimme an hour."
"Okay."
*50 minutes later*
Michael looked at his watch. "Hey, Frank's gonna be here in a sec, do you want me to go out for a while? Give you two some time alone?"
"Yeah, please. I'll call you when we're done. We shouldn't be too long."
Michael got up from the couch and grabbed his jacket and car keys. "Alright." He walked back to Stella when he had everything he needed and kissed her. "I love you."
"I love you, too." Stella smiled. Michael walked to the door and opened it; turning back around to Stella and saying see ya.
Stella – again – awkwardly and painfully got up off the couch, taking her time. She was just about to make herself a coffee when she heard a knock on the door. She knew it'd be Frank, so she changed her course towards the door. She opened it and Frank was there.
"What happened? Are you okay? You look horrible!" Frank greeted.
"That's what I want to talk to you about. Come in," she opened the door more and moved with the door towards the wall, making room so Frank could come in.
Stella gestured for Frank to sit down on one of the chairs.
Once they were both seated, Stella spoke. "So, about a week ago... I was taken hostage by a guy that says you shot his brother," Frank's expression changed somewhat, but Stella couldn't tell what it changed to; shock? Concern, terror? "Does Noah Brown ring a bell? He's the one you supposedly shot."
"I don't know what you're talking about."
"Don't bullshit me, Frank."
Frank stared blankly at Stella for a few moments before speaking. "Are you okay? How did I not hear about this?" he asked, both trying to change the subject and find out if she was okay. Even though he wasn't close with Stella, nobody would mess with his little sister besides him.
"I dunno, I thought you would've heard. And yeah, I'm fine. Just broke a few ribs and pretty much look like a smurf. Look, I know you know something about Noah, so just tell me."
I'm walking up a dark alleyway, graffiti covering every inch of the walls. It was 11pm when I last looked at the time, so I'm assuming it's around 11:15pm now. Ahead I can see a figure; male. He's wearing a pair of baggy jeans and a couple of sizes too big coat that falls to his knees. He's holding a small grey bag by his side that looks like it has things in it; slightly weighing the bag down. As I get closer I see the man's features and am confirmed that it is the man I'm meeting.
"Frank." The man nodded.
"Walter." I reply. "You got the money?"
Walter looks around to make sure no one is within visual or hearing range. When he sees no one around, he puts his hand into the inner pocket of his coat, pulling out a pile of $100 bills strapped together.
"Here." He says, passing the money over. I take the money – also looking around – and put in into my pocket in my suit.
"What's in the bag? We didn't agree on any swaps; just the money to keep your business clean, like we agreed."
"I've got a client on his way. Wants a month's worth of weed in one go." He says, as if it were obvious. I nod.
Silence in the only thing to be heard for a few moments, before I find it awkward and decide to wrap this up; it's taking too long, I could get caught. "So that's enough to keep you running for a few months. We'll meet up again in three months time – same place, same time. Got it?"
"Yeah, whatever." He replied. I turn around and make my way back towards the deserted street and to my car.
*next day*
-beep, beep, beep-
My eyes fling open. I look around and see no one there. I realise that I can still hear the same noise that woke me up. It's the stupid car alarm. Someone must've brushed past my car and set off the alarm. I get up off the... Couch? I must've been pretty tired when I came home last night, otherwise I would've slept in my bed. I walk over to the window and look out at the street to see my car. There's a man looking like he's flustered, pacing around my car, obviously embarrassed assuming he set the alarm off. He doesn't look like a threat, so I turn around and walk to the kitchen, putting the kettle on. I look at the time: 08:23. Shit, I'm late for work. I rush to the bathroom and tidy myself up, changing suits and putting the money I received last night into the safe in my closet, hidden under the shoe rack. I hear the kettle pop, and go over, making myself a coffee to go. Once my coffee was made, I walked to the front door, putting my shoes on and walking out, locking the house behind me. When I turn around and start walking to my car, I realise the man is still there, this time looking not flustered at all, more like mischievous; like he was up to something.
"Can I help you?" I ask, getting closer.
"You were on the news like a week ago, right? You're that cop. Dagostino?"
"Yeah, that's me, why?"
"You're a cop." He repeats.
"And?"
"I saw you last night," he stated simply. I realised then that he had a large yellow envelope in his hands. "You were talking to Jersey. I saw the money; no drugs involved. He's paying you, isn't he? To stay in business."
This cannot be happening. I'm feeling a huge urge to punch this man. "I don't know what you're talking about." I say, trying not to draw any more attention. Luckily this man wasn't raising his voice; otherwise the stickybeak neighbours would be peering out their windows.
"You know exactly what I'm talking about. Walter Jersey's a drug dealer." He paused slightly. "This envelope," he lifted the envelope, "has pictures. I was on my way to get my next hit, saw you and recognised you, took some photos on my phone. I want money. I know you have some."
I stare at him with both confusion that this is actually happening, and fury that he is doing this to me. I grab his arm and drag him back up the lawn, towards the sidewalk that goes behind my house and that's rarely used.
"How much?" I say quietly. The man's eyes smile – but not his mouth – although not enough to make it obvious.
"One million." He states.
"You've gotta be kidding me, right? As if I'd give you that much. Half a mill?"
"No," he shakes his head. "One million or I release the pictures."
"Show me them first." I say. He looks around to make sure no one can see, and then opens the envelope, not taking the photos out, but revealing more than half of the photo.
Shit, that's actually me. It's even clear enough to see my face. I don't even know how his phone was good enough to be that clear.
He shoves the photos back in and gives me a look as if to ask if we have a deal or not.
I'm not going to pay him one million dollars, especially considering these probably aren't the only copies he has. I decide that I'll bluff. I don't think my facial expression changed when I saw the photos, so hopefully I'll be convincing.
"Yeah, that's me. He bought something from me a while back, and just paying off the rest of the balance. That's all."
"Mate, it's pretty obvious you're corrupt. Why the discrete location then?"
Man, this guy just isn't going to give up. "I don't know; it was his choice. Besides, it's none of your business. Who the hell are you, anyway?"
"I'm just a guy who's trying to make a deal to help us both out."
I can't stand this guy anymore, I've had enough. I reach into the side of my suit and pull out a small handgun – something I have as a 'just in case' type thing – and hold it at my side. I'm not going to shoot him; I just wanna scare him off. Hopefully on the way he happens to drop the envelope, too.
"Look, just give me the envelope and get the hell away from me."
The man didn't budge. "I'm not going anywhere until I get my money."
"Look, I have no idea who you are, but you have no right to come to my place and blackmail me." I take a step towards him, wiggling the gun by my side slightly. The man looks down at it, then back at me.
"If you don't give me the envelope within the next few seconds, I might do something we will both regret."
A few seconds had passed and he still hadn't got out of my way. I lift up my arm with the gun, aiming it at him, point blank. I see the man flinch slightly, but not move. Another few seconds passed and I lowered it to his chest, getting sick and tired of him stuffing me around.
It all happened so quickly, and next thing I know, he's disappeared from my vision. I know exactly where he went. I looked down and see the man in a limp heap on the floor; blood steadily streaming out his chest. I look around to see if anyone heard the shot go off. Knowing my neighbours, they probably did. They'd probably called the cops by now and told them they'd heard a gunshot. I know I don't have much time left, so I take the envelope, put my gun back in the side of my suit and run towards my backyard. They neighbours can't see me from the path I took, so they wouldn't have seen me fleeing.
Once I get inside the back door, I run towards the stairs and lift up one of the planks of wood, revealing a stash of things I hid. I take out a small handgun and replace it with the envelope, then put the plank of wood back on top. I run back outside the back door. As I get closer to the scene, I fiddle with the cylinder and take out a bullet, throwing it somewhere around behind where I had been standing. I wipe my prints off the handgun and pick up a hand of the dead man before me, and put the gun in it to get his prints on the gun. Once I assume his prints are all over it, I take it out – hand in my pocket, so I don't get my prints on it again – and place it beside him.
By now I can hear sirens. I know I couldn't flee the scene, because that would just make me an obvious suspect. I simply stand there against a tree. I realise that if it was an accident – how I intend to make it – then I would've tried to stop the bleeding. I went over to the man and place my hands around the wound, getting his blood all over my hands. I wipe a little on my shirt, since if I tried to help, my clothes wouldn't come out completely blood free.
I see movement out of the corner of my eye and turn my head.
"Police, put your hands up." A male officer shouts, gun aiming at me. I put my hands up and slowly stand, knowing the drill. I hope my idea passes.
...
Frank got arrested and had to make a statement at the police station. He told them that it was an accident, and that the man – Noah, he later found out – shot at him first; it was self defence. After explaining more in detail about what supposedly happened, Frank was released and told not to leave town. The witnesses – his neighbours – also had to give statements. There was only a couple, since there were only half a dozen houses down his road, and most of the residents had left for work and school already.
Seven months ago that happened, and somehow Frank got away with it. The cops were still suspicious about it, having the witnesses say they only heard one gunshot, not two, but he still managed to get away without being charged or going to jail. This wasn't the first time something like that happened.
...
"Alright, I knew him. He shot at me so I shot him. I didn't mean to shot him, though; it was just self defence."
"To be honest... I don't believe you. I want to, but I just can't. I know you're corrupt, even though you insist you aren't, but you are. I don't want a brother who's a corrupt cop. I'm supposed to look up to you, Frank. How am I meant to do that when you are going off killing people?" As soon as she said that, Stella realised it came out wrong. Frank looked at her expressionless, yet so many feelings going through his head. "That came out wrong," Stella added.
"Yeah, it did." Frank stated, getting up off the chair. "Stella, I'm truly sorry about what happened to you, but I just can't deal with this right now."
Frank walked out the door, slamming it shut, leaving Stella still sitting there.
(...)
"I take it it didn't go so well?" Michael asked after greeting Stella, as he walked in the door.
Stella shook her head. "Not as I planned, no."
Michael dropped his jacket and keys on the kitchen counter and walked over to Stella, who still hadn't moved from the chair. Once he got to Stella, he put both had hands around Stella's head and moved it to face him. Stella had a sad expression on her face, and almost looked like she was going to cry. "Hey, it's okay, Stel."
Stella ignored the pain that it would cause, and half jumped up wrapping her arms around Michael. She didn't cry, although she felt like she was going to, she just hugged Michael.
"If you wanna talk about it, I'm here. You know that." Michael said softly into her ear.
"It's not about Frank. It's just about everything that's happened. I mean, why me? Why does Frank have to be corrupt? Why did he kill someone? Why did I have to pay for it?"
"I know, Stel. I know. It's not fair. But we're gonna catch him, okay?" Michael pulled away from Stella and looked at her. Stella nodded and gave Michael a quick hug again.
(...)
"Are you sure you don't wanna come?" Michael asked again.
"I'm sure. I'll be fine; I'll call Shannon."
"Okay... Well I won't be long, alright? I'll be as quick as I can!"
"Michael!" Stella said again, having déjà-vu. Michael froze and looked at her. "I'm not a little kid! I can take care of myself! Take your time, okay? I love you, but I need a little break! Besides, I haven't seen Shannon since I left the hospital, so it will be good to see her again considering we used to see each other every day at work."
"Okay, fine! I'll take my time!" he replied. He kissed Stella then said bye, and walked out the door. Stella grabbed her phone out of her pocket and dialled Shannon's number.
"Hello?"
"Hey,"
"Hey, Stel. How are you?"
"Alright, you?"
"I'm good."
"That's good. Hey, can you come over for a few hours? Michael's out shopping and-"
"Michael's shopping?" Shannon laughed.
"Yeah. I know right! So are you free?"
"Yeah, sure, I'll be there in like an hour. I just have a couple of quick things I gotta do first, okay?"
"Yeah, that's fine. I'll see you soon then."
"Alright. Bye."
"See ya."
About half an hour had passed and Stella was sitting on the couch, watching whatever boring soap opera was currently on. A knock rang through Stella's apartment. Stella looked at her phone and saw it hadn't been an hour yet, so it probably wasn't Shannon. Michael, she thought. Probably forgot something or changed his mind. Stella got up off the couch and made her way to the door, opening it. The person before her sent shivers down her spine. She didn't know what to do but simply stand there in complete shock. No, Stella thought to herself.
A/N: Ooh! Cliffy! But I'm guessing you all know who it's gonna be, anyway!
Also, sorry if the Frank part doesn't make too much sense or something doesn't sound right, I actually wrote all that last night, and that was around like 2am, and I was pretty tired, but I felt like writing. So yeah.
And don't forget to review! Pretty please! :D
