"Cypress, you're porn-addled as hell." That was Clifford Finch scolding Bill Cypress. Finch stepped on the gas. They were late to their appointment with Theodore Cooper.
Bill Cypress was as simple as you could have it: An interracial man with a chamoisee-colored complexion, a bald head, protruding, brown eyes, and a mustache and beard growing silver, spiral-shaped hair. Cypress colored outside of the lines of what fits the description of a political figure. Cypress was incorrigible, sleazy, and uncouth. He always resisted wearing professional attire when it was called for, and when he did, he often had a wardrobe malfunction or appeared unkempt. Political fixer, Clifford Finch, was a man with ivory-colored skin and sharp green eyes. His mouth was usually turned into a scold. Of course, he was the only one out of the two going to this meeting in business attire. Cypress was dressed like New York's best bum — A not-ironed shirt with a stain and battered jeans.
"I'm sure you saw her, Finch. That woman is God." Cypress slurred.
"Like hell I saw her, but that doesn't justify you putting the campaign on the line. You're a politician, for God's sake, Bill! Not a bachelor looking for legs to dive in between."
Bill Cypress, was the mayor of New York City. He was in the middle of a re-election campaign. He was also daydreaming about the mysterious, erotic dancer he witnessed several days ago. The incident was all Finch scolded Cypress about since then.
"The way she moves. Ain't seen nothin' like it…"
"You hit a man you don't know with a bottle of alcohol and caused a scene. You have no idea what a mess you created."
Finch slams the breaks, sharply parking into a spot.
Ange Noir Cafe was a hip coffee bar with premium grub, craft beer, and organic wine. In addition, the cafe hosted live music and local art. The logo on the front door were two skeletons with dark wings, red shirts, and black aprons. One skeleton was pouring coffee into the other skeleton's cup. Under the emblem was "ANGE NOIR CAFE" in edgy font, affixed on a black banner.
Aromatic dreams swirled inside of the coffee shop, which attracted well-articulated litterateurs. Small jugs with cream, white cups and black coffeee, an ambience of leisure and warmth.
Theodore Cooper had picked out a table with a booth, on the far left corner of the room. He had a pleasant smile on his face, and his eyes told that he was about to craft everything to his desire.
"A delight to meet you both. My name is Theodore Cooper," The young man extended his hand to the mayor, who shook with a cringe-making smile.
Cypress replied, the lust from Raven's first dance was still lingering in his eyes. "Likewise, Bill Cypress, Mayor of New York City. I look forward to doing business with you."
Finch half-assed a smile as he greeted Cooper. "Clifford Finch, the Mayor's right hand."
The trio sat down, and Cooper didn't miss a beat.
"We were all there that night, when Raven," He paused. He liked the way her name marinated between his lips. "made her debut at Scarlet," Cooper moves his eyes to Finch, "I'm not sure if you were there."
Finch was terse. "Of course I was, I had to provide baby-sitting service for the Mayor like usual."
Bill Cypress' easy-going expression melted into one of pure agitation. Cooper continued before Cypress could argue.
"Even better. Cypress, hopefully you are aware that you do not have your hands clean. You attacked a man with a bottle, so much so that he had to be rushed to the emergency room."
Cypress seemed indifferent to the fact, he was scrolling mindlessly on his phone.
"And?"
"You've caused a scene, and perhaps some problems. You're a man in office with a campaign to protect. " Cooper replied. He remained proper, but was more stern in comparison to his encounter with Rachel.
Cypress smiled, his mind was in a daydream. "The things I would do to and for that woman,"
Finch hissed through his teeth in disapproval, "Cypress, you horndog! What in God's name is wrong with you!" He then talks to Cooper, "I'm so sorry you have to witness his moments of weakness — that are in fact his character."
A waiter stops by, and the men order assortments and a hot drink to their liking.
"Here's the deal. Raven's got a custody issue that Judge Alcarez at the City Court, refuses to resolve,"
Finch spat, "That ain't our problem. Next."
"Oh, it definitely is," Cooper takes out his phone, revealing a picture. In the picture, Bill Cypress is seen attacking the man who was holding onto Raven's legs. Bill Cypress' face was as clear as day in the photo. Theodore had an angle that was in his advantage.
Bill Cypress' face loses color as Cooper swipes to a video. Raven was dancing for several seconds, and then the attack was captured in full.
"You're going to hell," Finch's emerald gaze was hard and dark.
"Gladly, if it's in the name of Raven. You see, I have the upper hand here. Digital footprint, screenshots, shares, views, publications. A disagreement, and click," Cooper taps his phone insolently. The smirk on his face is cunning. "Your image, chance of re-election, gone. All it takes is my finger,"
Cypress is at a loss of words, and the evidence of stress is present in his features. He thought this would be simply another empty threat of someone from the other political party. But Cooper was dangerous. A walking threat. Cypress never cared more about his position until now. Even worse, that gothic, hot chick that he would risk it all for was caught up with him in the image.
He saw the potential headlines clearly:
DOWNBAD MAYOR RISKS CHANCE OF RE-ELECTION
EROTIC DANCER, RAVEN, BRINGS NEW YORK'S CHIEF OUT OF CHARACTER
HOW CAN CYPRESS BRING HIMSELF BACK FROM THIS?
Cooper continued, he had them in a situation, now. "Unless, you scrap your pennies together to a total amount of one million. That'll cover Raven's needs for the case, and the other bunch is up to her to use to her needs; to get this pretty queen and her princess out of this hell hole."
"This is ridiculous," Was all Cypress could muster.
Cooper quizzed, "What's ridiculous?"
"The money, for God's sake!" Finch snapped.
"Ah," Cooper laughs heartily. "That was all to get your attention. Forget the money."
The mayor's right hand responded. "So, to make sure we're on the same page, you don't want a penny?"
Cooper shook his head "yes."
"Why are you so invested in this case?" Finch challenged, his eyes had a hint of genuine curiosity.
Cooper bluntly answered. "None of your business."
"A load of crap. What makes you think that the Mayor can persuade a local divorce judge, even in the event that he wanted to?"
"Let me tell you a secret," Cooper playfully leaned in, shielding his whispered words with his hand. "Every divorce judge hates their job. All of them want to be on a higher level, and to do that, they need connections."
Finch started. "But it's the Senate that confirms—"
"I know that, you pompous fuck!" Cooper furiously gripped the edge of the table. "I know that, but a nudge from the Mayor would be helpful. The judge would be shocked to hear from the mayor of the goddamn world's best city. We want the judge to think Cypress has all the clout to make or break. Cypress is the perfect gnat to get that message across."
Finch, cheeks hot with rage, and gaskets blew. "Give us a second, please."
The duo went to a vestibule to discuss the matter.
"We're skating on thin ice, here." Cypress said, his tone replete with worry.
"We wouldn't have been if you were such an impulsive, smut-brained devil," Finch ran his hand through his hair, then sighed. "We have to think, and think fast."
Cypress shrugged. "I mean, we can just agree."
Finch deflected. "Not on my grave. I'm not gonna let some nerd blackmail us into fulfilling his love story. I can bet you him and Raven fuck."
"Fuck?"
"Most definitely. There's no other explanation for this man wanting Raven to regain custody of her child so badly. Pussy does cartwheels, backflips, and tricks. One hit on a good one and we as a species lose it."
Cypress scoffed. "That can't be it."
"Says you, of all people. I'm not giving into a civilian."
"He's probably just madly in love with her, and I don't even blame him."
Finch smoothes his hand down his face. "You are pathetic," Finch pauses. "Goddamnit," Finch drags Cypress out to the table to bargain with Cooper.
—
Garfield Logan, a man in his twenties, recently made himself a meal of bean burritos with avocado, peppers, and tomato. Garfield was a man of Bajan descent. Hazel eyes, tawny-brown skin, pearl-white teeth, and locs that were twisted into a rope-like appearance. Bryson Tiller was playing on the speaker in Garfield's apartment. Garfield was a homicide detective from Massillon, Ohio. He was taking a vacation in Brooklyn for a week and change. He needed a break from the workflow, and to connect with his roots.
Garfield recently brushed his teeth, lathered himself in shea butter, and moisturized his locs with grapeseed oil. He washed up his plate, and before he put on a fresh set of clothes, he took out the garbage. Garfield walked a small distance from his apartment to the community garbage bins. Garfield was in good spirits. The sun was bathing the city in showers of yellow, the birds were melodic, and the buzz of the city rumbled in his soul.
Garfield opened the gate to the bins, then opened a bin.
Instantly, Garfield's face froze in horror.
Right in the bin, a corpse, surrounded by a storm of flies, lay over a pile of bags.
"Goddamnit to hell," Garfield cursed under his breath, and he dropped his bag of garbage to the ground.
Garfield instantly took out his phone to call the police. He couldn't take his eyes off the victim's googly eyes staring up.
"You're a bastard," Garfield said to the dead body. "You're a bastard for ruining my vacation."