"Yeah, and it couldn't have been shorter," Tristian groaned in annoyance, exaggerating his walking.
Rocco raised an eyebrow, "Your break was three months long."
He grimaced, "Yeah, and it was a whole month ago! That sucks!"
Morning was coldest in Lewood, where even a short walk in October felt like a drag. Rocco dressed in a black waxed cotton jacket. His loose black jeans were even looser on him now, as he'd lost weight since Warren's death.
Tristian was wearing the same leather jacket that Warren once wore when he'd ride his motorcycle. The sight bothered Rocco slightly, but he kept his head forward despite the small glances he inevitably stole.
There wasn't much traffic. Eventually, when the crime rates spiked, people began leaving their cars in the garage to avoid theft. It didn't stop criminals, but it was one step. The noise in the city was significantly reduced alongside it, and all you could hear while walking was the sound of nothingness.
"There's this one kid in my class," Tristian yawned, "His voice is incredibly annoying. It's high pitched, and he never has anything interesting to add to a conversation. There's never a point in him speaking. If I was him, I'd avoid speaking entirely."
Rocco's lip twitched slightly, "I know a couple of people like that."
Tristian nodded. "At your job?"
"They're unbearable," he replied rapidly, nodding back. They came to a stop before a large building, one barely standing. At the walls of the gymnasium were graffiti tags and inappropriate scribbles. There were a few teenagers at the entrance, some smoking outside and being disciplined by a young male teacher while an older man with a lab coat watched, and some others heading to class. Rocco tilted his head and furrowed his brow. "This is your school?"
Tristian crossed his arms. "Yeah, it is. Luxurious, isn't it?" He edged closer to Rocco, "See that guy? The one in blue, with a cigarette in his hand?"
Rocco's eyes darted to a boy who looked no older than thirteen. His eyes and forehead crinkled, "He's in your class?"
"He's the annoying one I talked about," Tristian shrugged with one arm.
Rocco put his hands in his pockets, tilting his head and leaning forward. "Tell me more."
Tristian nodded, turning his head to the left, staring at a tall blonde woman and her kid. "That woman was my brother's friend."
Tristian watched Rocco's eyes, discerning if he'd react to the mention of Warren.
Rocco's eyes lit with interest. "Really? What's her name?"
"I don't know, I think it was Jane," Tristian shrugged, speaking slowly. He raised an eyebrow. "The kid next to her is named Emerson. He's two years younger than me but we're friends… Kind of. Well, we know each other. We're not exactly close, but we've been in the same circles, so we're familiar with each other's existence."
"You're prattling," a smile tugged at Rocco's lips. "I understand what you mean. You're acquainted."
"Oh, yeah," Tristian smiled, "That's what I meant."
Rocco nodded, still watching over the blonde woman and her son. "You should say hello to him, then."
"I thought you said you understood," Tristian frowned. "We don't know each other like that."
Rocco rolled his eyes, walking towards the two. Tristian followed him reluctantly. He coughed from the brutal smell of cigarette smoke.
"You'll be fine, Emmy," the lady reassured her kid.
Tristian smiled, "Hey, Emmy."
The boy grimaced, turning his head towards his mother, who grinned. "Seriously?"
Tristian laughed, and they walked inside the school together, beginning a conversation on their new teachers and how irritating they must be.
The lady smiled at Rocco, "I'm Jennifer," she held her hand out. "I wasn't aware our sons were friends."
"It's nice to meet you, Jennifer," Rocco creased his brow, "But Tristian is not my son."
She looked down and reddened slightly, "Oh, my mistake!"
Before she could say another word, her phone rang. Upon inspecting the phone screen, her eyes widened a little. "I have to take this, but it was very nice meeting you!" she noted.
Rocco nodded, watching as she walked away frantically, answering the phone call in hurriedness.
She buttoned her overcoat, entering a blue sedan and nodding anxiously.
Warren had never mentioned Jennifer to him. Considering Tristian barely remembered her name, he hadn't mentioned her to him either. He did hide parts of his life from Rocco, which he found irritating considering they were supposed to be close. Perhaps she played a small part in his life, but he deserved to know. The bell rang, and the students that were once smoking had already gone inside. Rocco took a deep breath.
...
"Adam Reed," she slammed the file on his desk. "He's a drug kingpin. If we manage to take him down, we'll be able to decrease the crime rates by at least twenty percent."
Rocco took a sip of his coffee, "Must you be so aggressive?" He raised an eyebrow, glancing at her eye bags. "Were you up all night?"
Yara crossed her arms and rolled her eyes, "I was doing research."
Rocco shrugged, setting his cup down. "You were doing my job. Don't. It's mine for a reason."
"Will we take this case?" Thomas rested his chin on his hand.
Rocco crossed his legs and leaned back. "Do you think we have a choice? Ainsworth throws us something and we pick it up like starving mutts."
Thomas slumped, turning his gaze to his shoes.
Yara cleared her throat, "We know that Reed's dealers primarily operate around western Lewood."
"That's a start," he nodded. "I expect you both to have more information by tomorrow. Go undercover, take a look around the place, figure out their schedules. Shipments details. I won't dispatch the Series Division Teams until you get solid evidence."
Yara narrowed her eyes, raising an eyebrow slightly. "Why? They'd be very helpful. Union Four would help especially. They'd be better at going undercover."
"Oh, really?" he questioned. "You're telling me that the Union that specializes in covert operations would be good at going undercover?" he stippled his fingers, faking thought. "I'd give you a gold sticker but I'm afraid I'm out of stock. Would you settle for a pat on the back?"
Yara clenched her teeth. "It would be easier for us if they were involved."
"You won't involve them until I say you can," Rocco raised his voice. Thomas flinched. "Do your job."
Thomas and Yara stood up.
"And to be clear, Navarro, Union Four is a Union. It's in the name. Ainsworth should've explained the system to you," he shook his head, "There's four unions, and the Series Division Team, SDT, aren't part of any of them. They just help us if we need it, and right now we don't. They do the tedious and repetitive parts of our jobs so we don't have to. They're the crew behind the scenes."
He took a sip of his coffee, dismissing them with a nod. "Now you can go."
...
"Zack Crosby," he extended his hand, opting for a handshake. Rocco glanced at his hand shortly before turning his eyes back to the teenager in front of him. Zack hesitantly pulled his hand back, smiling nervously. He paused, "It's nice to meet you…"
Rocco nodded, looking around. There were various products around them, but near the register, there were only packs of gum, cigarettes, lighters and cheap gimmicks disguised as children's toys. "Tell me about July 17th."
Zack put his hand on his neck. "The robbery?" he recalled, his eyes glimmering. "Yeah, I remember, but I wasn't there. My old man was handling the store. Some scary stuff happens, man. I'm just glad he's alright."
Rocco nodded, keeping silent.
"Uh," he stammered, taking a step back. "Why do you need to know about it?"
Rocco crossed his arms. "Show me the security footage."
"I can't do that," he shook his head. "It's classified unless you've got a good reason."
Rocco narrowed his eyes. "I'm a police officer. I'm investigating."
"Investigating?" he scrunched his face. "It was months ago. Isn't it a bit late for it?"
"No," he shook his head. "It is not."
Zack stumbled. "Do you have any proof that you're a cop?"
Rocco leaned forward and grabbed him by his collar. "You might find it easier to start searching for that footage now."
Zack widened his eyes and tilted his head. He stared at Rocco for a few moments, contemplating. He sighed. "You're one of those difficult customers my father told me about."
Rocco clenched his jaw. "But I'll show you," Zack added quickly. "Just give me a few seconds."
Rocco let go of him, tilting his head. "Better to be fast."
"I will," he nodded desperately, walking, almost running to the back.
Zack shouted from the other room, "The recording should be saved here somewhere."
Rocco sighed. What an idiot.
He turned his head, looking at the gondola shelves around him. His steps were silent. His fingers touched a product, a random chocolate bar that was highly overpriced.
He raised an eyebrow. Everything was overpriced in the store.
Rocco shoved it up his jacket sleeve slowly.
He turned around upon hearing Zack's steps.
"I can't find it," he slouched, avoiding Rocco's eyes. "My shift is ending soon, but I swear I'll find it. Just give me some time."
"I can find you anytime I want," Rocco took a few steps closer. "Remember that."
"I know," he nodded anxiously. "I'll find it."
He walked towards the door. Before leaving, he turned his head, his eyes sharply on Zack. "I'll be back in four days."
...
He watched the black haired woman as she spoke to her coworker. She covered her mouth with her hand as she laughed. Her blue eyes crinkled at the corners, sparkling.
The dark-brown haired man next to her was dressed in a crisp white dress shirt with a black vest above. A tie hung from his neck, messily done. He laughed alongside her while writing something down in a notepad.
Rocco slowly walked over to the bar, keeping his eyes on them.
Slowly taking a seat, her attention turned to him.
"What can I get you?" she shot him a smile, walking into the back counter.
He drummed his fingers on the counter. "What would you recommend to me?"
She took a long look at him, analyzing his features. "You seem like you'd enjoy whiskey."
"That works," he leaned forward.
She nodded, reaching for the bottle to her left. "On the rocks?"
He frowned. "No."
She grinned. "I'm usually better at guessing."
"That's nice," he continued to drum his fingers on the counter. She put down a rocks glass in front of him and grabbed a square glass bottle with a black label. "Double," he added.
She nodded, pouring the golden liquid into the glass.
"I don't think I've seen you here before," she tilted her head. "But you seem familiar."
He raised an eyebrow, "Really? Well, I'm usually here at earlier times."
He adjusted his collar and cleared his throat.
"Interesting," she trailed off, her eyes looking to the left as she tried to recall. She shrugged, "I don't know. What's your name?"
"Ander," he blurted out. "What's yours?"
"Augustina," she held out her hand.
He nodded, shaking her hand. "Good to meet you."
"Likewise."
The other worker called for her. "I need two Negronis."
Augustina reached for the ingredients as the man leaned against the counter.
"Negronis are disgusting," he added.
Augustina raised an eyebrow, "Each to their own."
He rolled his eyes. As if only now realizing Rocco was there, he turned to him and tipped his chin up, "What about you? Hate it or love it? There's no in-between allowed."
"I've never tried one," he shrugged, taking a sip of his drink.
He pursed his lips while bobbing his head.
Rocco straightened his back. The man had a stubble, hooded deep brown eyes and arched eyebrows. He had a Roman nose with a sharp jawline and hollow cheeks. His lips were downturned and soft looking. He spoke with a loud, bright voice. "Do you only ever order whiskey?"
Rocco turned his eyes to him. "I usually alternate between whiskey and gin."
He nodded, bobbing his head. His hands were on his hips. A beat passed before Rocco added, "And you?"
"I don't drink," he shrugged. "But I used to drink a lot," he added, a faint smile tugging at his lips as if he was reminiscing. "There isn't a single drink that I haven't tried… But eventually it was too much."
"Yeah?" Rocco narrowed his eyes. "Why's that?"
He shrugged, opening his mouth to reply. Before he could speak, Augustina placed the drinks on the counter.
He smiled at Rocco, picking up the drinks. "Save me some time; I'll tell you at some point."
Rocco nodded, watching as he walked away.
Augustina smiled. "You and Nick are polar opposites."
"What makes you think that?" he questioned. He paused for a second, carefully panning his next sentence. "He seems similar to you."
"We've been working at the same place for years," she replied, folding her arms.
Rocco took a sip of his whiskey.
Nick walked back over, shoving three one-dollar bills into his right pocket before sitting next to Rocco. He leaned forward, "I'm Nicholas," he grinned. "But you can call me Nick."
"Ander. Good to meet you both."
"What do you do?" he questioned, leaning forward and resting his chin on his hand.
He tilted his head. "I work in accounting."