Chapter Text
You are bleeding. It’s getting cold.
You look up to the blackened sky as rain pours, cackling at the absurdity you’re in.
How did this happen? You know all too well, so why ask?
Because life is fleeting from you, it’s just how it is.
Your memory reel plays the three days that led up to this… tragedy.
Can you even call it a tragedy?
Your name’s Edward, a bartender – a charming one at that.
You worked in a casino owned by a mob – as all things in this city.
Gamblers come to you. In celebration or in their loss, either way, your wallet gets fatter by the drink. Not to mention, some women do tip to get your numbers. And there’s another one to the list of unanswered calls…
…But there’s gamblers… and there’s regulars.
Arnie isn’t exactly on the list. He’s the son of the owner. Doesn’t mean he’s exempt from paying top dollars.
You spotted him, third time this week. Him in his gaudy-looking getup, with another innocent-looking girl – too young, too gullible. A thought occurred to you every time you see him. How does he pull cuties being scrawny and sleazy as he is? But you weren’t paid to think, you were paid to sell their product. Even if it’s to the owner’s family.
“Yo, usual, Tony!” Arnie knew you by your first name. Though not the right name.
You halted your reservation and you made him the ‘usual’. A screwdriver for him and an extra spiked margarita.
It’s not the only goods you sell, but it’s one of the high sellers.
Morality slips by you every time those drinks disappear into the crowd.
You ought to feel guilty for the poor girls he brought, but the reality is, it’s been years – you’re already used to the sight.
Nowadays, you just hope a cousin of yours doesn’t get into the same trouble.
Customers come and go. And by the end of the night, you’re alone, wiping the glasses and getting ready to close the bar.
Arguably, this is your favourite part of your job. Mere minutes away from returning to your apartment. But that’s not why you love it so much…
…It’s the only time you get to see your midnight rose.
“Hey, Ed.”
Her deep and breathy voice cuts you every time. Not many you share your name with – not even with the mob. They don’t strike you as important, necessary… She’s different.
Your eyes are always set on her golden-brown wisps of hair framing her slender face; Her slightly tanned skin shimmering the dim light above her; And her thin lips, as she drinks the Martini you had prepared. She watches you with little intent behind those hazel green eyes, and her red dress divides your attention further. But you know better not to mingle too far.
After all, she’s Callahan. Detective Callahan.
She’s been putting tabs on the impenetrable De Franco family for six months. She’s the reason your peers have been disappearing left and right. Not all cops bend down, some prefer giving the family a swift kick to the balls.
A fearless force like her – dressing up like that – no doubt hoping for any blot in the family willing to impress the pretty lady… And you’re no different.
You spill the tea. You word it like the gullible, innocent girl you saw today, just so the ones watching don’t get any ideas. It’s her job to put the two-and-two together and if she can’t, well, it’s not your loss.
But she keeps coming back… you’ve made it so you’re invaluable in her eyes – and you like being important. It's been your goal for the past five years. Even then, it doesn’t seem enough for her.
“I’ll have to admit, these ones are not so exciting, Ed…” She said, tone on a slope.
“Sorry to disappoint, miss. Everyone’s tight-lipped lately. But I can feel it. Storm’s a-brewing.”
“That so? How can you be so sure?” She grins, leaning close to you.
“A little trust, miss? Is that in high order?”
“You ask me, it’s always in high order… but, since you are the one asking, I’ll spare some,” She whispered close to you, her breath tingling your ears. “Just don’t keep me waiting.”
Like everyone else, she leaves you in the dark, but also a lingering, irreplaceable warmth. You admire her, for having the gall to pressure you on your own turf. It’s how you know she’s dependable. At the back of your mind, you often ask yourself: what life could’ve been if she took your sister’s case back then?
You hate your apartment. It’s always messy and you’re alone – only with your thoughts.
At first, it was nothing but a pack of cigs couldn’t fix, then it became two, five…. And now you’re not even sure if it’s a viable financial incentive.
You stray from the goods the mob sells. The last thing you need is a haze in your mind.
Staring listlessly from the couch, the past events swirl in your head and you start to miss home – your old man, your little brother and sister.
You dial the number you hope hasn't changed. He should still be awake. After all, he’s an insomniac like you. That day turned you all to one.
You wait for the call to connect. Your heart beats with the beeping as you hold with bated breath. Then you hear it, just as the night before. Contemptible silence. You’re relieved it’s still there. You’re relieved to hear it.
In his mind, he only has one son. He has nothing to say to you. But now, just like before, you do.
“In three days, I’ll make you proud.”
As you’re about to hang up, a gruff voice comes in from the other side. You hardly believe it. After five long years, you hear his distant voice as you remember from your childhood – along with that same grating tone burnt in your mind.
“Fuck off.”