Ortiz Detective Agency

[Lets_Eat_Paste]

Georgette Duguay

“I let my cousin give me a tattoo,” said Santiago. “I was drunk. It was a mistake. And now I’m limping like a retired racehorse.” Santiago laughed, and Georgette suddenly felt parched from the dryness in it. It was raucous and told Georgette that he found it to be the exact opposite of funny. “It’ll heal in a few days.” he finished, and Georgette secretly wished he hadn’t been so flippant about it. She wanted a detailed biography for each stray mark on his body so she could follow his words until he walked her right off the pages of his scars. It would have been ridiculous to ask him to walk off with her. Not with that limp of his.

Santiago rolled over and gazed at her. She could feel his eyes tracing her silhouette. “You don’t have tattoos,” Santiago said bluntly at last. Georgette wanted to applaud him. How so very well spotted! “Ever consider getting one?”

Georgette bit her tongue in thought. “Not extensively. Why? Is that what we’re doing next?” He did have her smoking, after all.

[The Exodus]

Santiago Ortiz

Santiago wondered what tattoo Georgette would get, if she ever got one. He doubted that she would plaster religious iconography on her biceps and back in some perversion of faith. She probably wouldn’t get Spanish script wrapped around her arm like a bracelet. She definitely wouldn’t let Lorenzo and Carmen carve gang insignias into her ankles.

But as delicate as she looked, Georgette was anything but dainty. If Santiago had to guess, Georgette would probably find a good place for a skull somewhere. Maybe she’d get biology-book pictures inked over the corresponding parts. A blue and red image of the aorta and ventricles over her heart, for instance. He almost laughed at the thought.

Or maybe she never had considered—and never would consider—getting a tattoo.

“Not extensively,” she admitted. “Why? Is that what we’re doing next?”

“Only if you really want to,” said Santiago. “And even then, I wouldn’t suggest it.”

His eyes swept over her again. Georgette had a lean frame, but while lying on her side, Georgette’s hip jutted out to make a perfect crescent shape. His eyes lingered on it a bit too long. A long time ago, Santiago had fancied himself an artist. That Santiago would have wanted to sketch her as she was now, since this moment of ease would one day pass. He flexed his ankle and—as if to prove his point that tattoos weren’t all they were cracked-up to be—a fresh wave of pain shot up his leg. His face spasmed, but that, too, passed. Even with the recovery time from a back-alley tattoo, Santiago decided not to regret a single one of them. No such thing as regrets; only what you did and didn’t do.

He wondered what it was Georgette had done—and what she hadn’t—since her body was so flawless. But Santiago had never been good at asking those kinds of questions. Instead, he took another drag from his cigarette.

“What do you want to do next?”

[Lets_Eat_Paste]

Georgette Duguay

The storm let up enough for Georgette to hear her own thoughts, which had started filtering in the life advice and self-loathing that usually accompanied whims like this. From under the desk and through the oblong slits in the blinds, Georgette could see the sun peeking through as if it wanted in on the conversation taking place inside.

“Only if you really want to,” said Santiago. “And even then, I wouldn’t suggest it.” Santiago said and Georgette’s eyes followed along him, falling and resting momentarily on each of the dark designs that decorated his chest. Yes, it seemed painful, and almost pointless. Georgette couldn’t see desiring something so permanent in her life, not even a tattoo.

“What do you want to do next?”

Georgette almost laughed. It was like they were children living in the ennui of summer vacation, bored with one game and constantly trying to entertain each other.

“There are so many things I want to do,” she growled, biting her lip. She kissed him on the lips. “But to be honest, I should probably get home.” She held her cigarette tightly with her fingertips. “Do I smash this, or…?”

[The Exodus]

Santiago Oritz

The storm eased up as the sun began setting. Santiago could hear the rain turn to little more than sporadic tapping on the window pane. Lying on the floor with a cigarette and Georgette, he couldn’t help but think that if this was how he spent the rest of his day, he’d be a happy man. He hadn’t been happy in a long time and it might be longer still before Santiago was this content. He met Georgette’s gaze, which sparked with some private joke.

“There are so many things I want to do,” she growled. As if to hint at what sort of things she wanted to do, Georgette leaned forward and planted a kiss on Santiago’s lips. It was much more tender than all the kisses they’d exchanged before; when she pulled away, his lips still tingled. “But to be honest, I should probably get home.”

Santiago wondered what the hurry was. There was nothing for him at home, except Lola and somehow, he didn’t rush home every night on that dog’s account. He realized—not for the first time—how little he knew about Georgette. If she was married, if she had kids… Santiago doubted she was some doting wife and mother, since she didn’t seem the type to settle down. Or maybe she just wasn’t the type to settle down with him. Not that he minded. They weren’t strangers, but she wasn’t his girlfriend. Or, at least, she hadn’t been when she walked through the door. Santiago didn’t know what Georgette was now.

“Do I smash this, or…?”

Santiago blinked. He’d stopped listening and after a moment, he realized Georgette still had hold of a cigarette that wasn’t burned down to the filter yet. It smoldered between her fingers. He looked at his own, half-finished cigarette before putting it out on the underside of the desk. It left a satisfying burn mark. He looked over at Georgette and waited for her to do the same. They crawled out from under the desk and stood. Santiago slid back into his jeans and when he looked at Georgette again, she was wearing her trench coat. He smiled at her.

“I’ll see you, querida,” he said. “I can’t wait to see where you pick next time.”

[The Exodus]

Carmen Vega

Carmen sat alone in Santiago’s office. He’d kill her if he saw her like this, feet up on his desk, cigarette clenched between her fingers, acting like she owned the place. She meant that figuratively, of course. Or at least, she hoped. Last week, she’d seen her cousin throttle one of their own for killing a local drug dealer who he’d been using as an informant.

“Making me do damage control,” he’d hissed later, while he and Carmen were throwing back drinks at the local bar. “Who the f*ck does he think he is? Who does he think I am? I don’t have time for this bullsh*t.”

“Lucky you’re dating that coroner, then, isn’t it?” Carmen said. She grinned over at him, happy to see the shock on Santiago’s face. He couldn’t keep secrets from Carmen, even if he wanted to. She had her sources. “I don’t blame you. Let me know if she’s got a sister.”

Santiago scowled then. “You leave Georgette alone. What she and I are doing is business.”

“What you two are doing is f*cking,” Carmen said. “No shame in that. Just be careful.”

Santiago snorted. “I don’t need you to tell me what to do.”

“Right, boss.” Carmen tossed back her shot. It burned all the way down and she exhaled slowly. “Wouldn’t dream of telling you what to do. Just don’t get too attached.”

“I’m not. I won’t,” Santiago said. His phone buzzed. A soft smile touched his lips.

“Is that her?” Carmen asked.

Santiago didn’t look up from his phone. “No. Just a friend.”

Carmen had made it her mission to figure out who that friend was. Sure, it was useful to know who El Jefe spent his free time screwing, but it was even more useful to know who it was that could make him smile like that. Carmen had known Santiago her entire life. He hadn’t smiled like that—all soft and genuine—since they were little more than children. It intrigued her. Carmen needed to know the identity of that “friend”.

And when that “friend” proved to be a girl, Carmen couldn’t help but feel something like jealousy stir in her bones.

It was one thing for Santiago to have a girlfriend. Or a f*ck-buddy. That was fine. But being Santiago’s best girl was Carmen’s place. She was his right hand girl; the second in command of Las Gardunas. And Reese Cordova would do well to know her place. Of course, there was the possibility that this Reese Cordova meant something else entirely to Santiago. Which puzzled Carmen more than it made her jealous. What good was a twiggy ballet brat to the leader of Las Gardunas?

Well, she thought, taking a drag from her cigarette. Santiago’s always had a thing about dancers.

It hadn’t been hard to steal Santiago’s phone and text Reese, delete the messages urging her to meet “Santiago” at his office. Carmen would see for herself just where Reese fit into her cousin’s world and whether or not the girl deserved to stay there. Maybe the girl was useful somehow. If not, Carmen had no qualms about trimming the fat from Santiago’s social calendar. After all, Las Gardunas needed a leader with his head in the game; not one with weaknesses so easily exploited as friends and lovers. Santiago would thank her later. He’d at least be thankful it was Carmen who found out about Reese and not one of the underlings who worked for him. Who knew what ends they would have used Reese Cordova for?

Carmen exhaled. Moonlight shone in through slats that covered the windows of Santiago’s office. She wanted to surprise Senorita Cordova. And, ay Dios, what a surprise she would be in for…

[blueeyeddevil]

Reese Cordova

The only thing Reese could think of as she hurried up the street towards the detective agency was that something had to be very wrong! Santiago seemed to have, without actually saying anything, put up a sort of barrier between her and his work. She'd never been to his office and they rarely even talked about his job. And now he had texted her, asking her to come and meet him at his office...at almost 11:30 at night. She wasn't sure what sort of worst-case scenario even made sense in a situation like this but she had a very bad feeling about all this. She had gotten the directions from him and as she had been dressed in pajamas already, had quickly thrown on the first thing she could find (jeans and black tee) and raced out the door.

She found her way to the small corner building that served as the private detective agency Santiago now ran. She stepped into the quiet building, the receptionist desk empty and most of the lights off. A back office light was still on and it spilled into the hallway from under a closed door. Reese slowly made her way back there, feeling more uneasy as she went.

She opened the door and cigarette smoke assaulted her nose, making her give a small cough. Blue eyes finally landed on the person in the chair, who was not Santiago. It was a tough looking woman with dark hair, feet up on the desk in front of her as she puffed on a cigarette. Suddenly, Reese was very confused. Where was Santiago? Had she gotten the directions wrong? The sign out front had read that this was a detective agency! How many of those could there in this general area?!

"Oh! Umm...hello! I'm sorry. I didn't mean to bother you," she said hurriedly. "I'm looking Santiago Ortiz. He asked me to meet him here." Blue eyes closed as she steeled herself to finally ask the question she knew was going to be embarrassing, no matter who this woman was. And whoever she was, she was about to think Reese was really stupid.

"This is his office, right?"

[The Exodus]

Carmen Vega

At a little past eleven-thirty, the office door creaked open. Standing in the threshold was a girl, younger than Carmen and much younger than Santiago. Her choppy, dark hair and wide eyes lent her a pixie-like look. Carmen’s throat tightened. This was the Reese Cordova Santiago had come to value over the years? This little slip of a thing? Reese Cordova was no threat. She was a little girl who looked utterly terrified.

She should be.

"Oh! Umm...hello!” Reese said. “I'm sorry. I didn't mean to bother you. I'm looking Santiago Ortiz. He asked me to meet him here. This is his office, right?”

Carmen put her cigarette out on Santiago’s desk and tossed it into the trashcan.

“You’re in the right place, chica,” she said, stretching out and standing.

Once upright, Carmen stood at least eight inches above Reese. She flicked on the desk lamp and walked to shut the door, circling Reese as she did, studying her. Carmen’s full lips turned to a grim line. This girl didn’t look as though she’d last more than two seconds in a firefight. Looks could be deceiving; Carmen wasn’t one to discriminate. But what purpose did Reese serve? What good was she to Santiago? If they were “just friends”, they weren’t sleeping together.

Were they?

That thought made Carmen feel infinitely better. At least if it was true, she wasn’t being replaced. And if it was true, Carmen could categorize this girl. If it wasn’t, that meant that Santiago opened himself up to a world of vulnerabilities. A true leader didn’t leave those out in the open to be preyed upon. Silly man. The door clicked shut. Carmen called a smile to her lips.

“Have a seat,” she said. “Make yourself comfortable, Senorita Cordova.”

[blueeyeddevil]

Reese Cordova

Already this whole thing was making her very uncomfortable. Who was this woman? She didn't recall Santiago ever mentioning anyone like her. Wide eyes watched carefully as the woman put the cigarette out on the desk and tossed it into the trash.

“You’re in the right place, chica,” the woman assured her.

The Spanish word and accent caught Reese's attention. The connection to Santiago was clear, she just wasn't sure entirely what that connection was. The woman unfolded herself from the chair, standing to tower over her. The way the other woman circled her, scrutinized her, did nothing to dispel the bad feeling Reese had had since setting foot in the door. She found herself hoping this was all just a crazy prank and Santiago would come out hiding under the desk and laugh at her nervous expression. Deep down, Reese knew that wasn't going to happen.

“Have a seat,” she said. “Make yourself comfortable, Senorita Cordova.”

Slowly and warily Reese did as she was asked, sitting down in the hard chair on the client side of the desk. A thought suddenly occurred to her. "How did you know..." she began, trailing off when the the answer became apparent. "You sent the text messages..." She shook her head in confusion. "I don't understand...who are you? What do you want?"

[The Exodus]

Carmen Vega

Reese Cordova tottered over to the client’s chair in Santiago’s office. She sat down and Carmen’s forced smile became an all-too-genuine smirk. Not so dumb, this girl. She was listening and complying; and if Reese Cordova knew what was good for her, she’d keep on keeping on.

"How did you know...?" Reese asked.

She didn’t have to finish the sentence for Carmen to know what she meant. Carmen walked over to the desk. Instead of sitting in Santiago’s chair again, Carmen slid onto the desk so that she was mere inches away from Reese. The pistol clipped to her hip smacked against the desk with a dull “thud”. Carmen arched an eyebrow and stared at Reese, waiting for her to put two and two together. As realization dawned in those baby blues, Reese shook her head.

"You sent the text messages…” she said.

Ding, ding, ding, we have a winner.

“I don't understand...” Reese continued. “Who are you? What do you want?"

“I don’t want too much. Just a few questions answered,” Carmen said innocently. She leaned forward and rested her elbows on her knees. Her voice hardened a little; her face was mere centimeters from Reese's and she stared into the younger woman's eyes. “But first off, I want one thing clear: if you even think about telling anyone about this meeting, the only thing I’ll ‘want’ is to make you regret blabbing. Comprende?”

[blueeyeddevil]

Reese Cordova

The unmistakable and ominous thud of the gun hitting the desk made Reese rather jumpy. Plus the older woman was sitting at a distance that was clearly meant to invade personal space, making Reese even more uncomfortable. Reese's blue eyes kept flickering in the direction of the door, praying desperately that Santiago would come striding through and inquire about what was going on. However, she wasn't holding out much hope. It was rather unlikely her friend was going to stumble upon them and rescue her from this situation.

In a meek voice, Reese asked what the woman wanted to which she replied “I don’t want too much. Just a few questions answered,” She leaned forward, now even closer. “But first off, I want one thing clear: if you even think about telling anyone about this meeting, the only thing I’ll ‘want’ is to make you regret blabbing. Comprende?”

Reese knew that Spanish word...understand. She most definitely understood. She gave a small little nod of her head, eyes wide and terrified. She did her best to scoot the chair back a few inches, anything to put a little more distance between them. She didn't understand why this woman was trying to intimidate her so much. What had she ever done to her?! Reese swallowed hard and eventually found her voice again. "What kind of questions did you want me to answer," she asked, wanting to get this over with as quickly as possible.

[The Exodus]

Carmen Vega

Reese Cordova reminded Carmen of a rabbit, with her wide eyes and small twitches to get away. That would make Carmen the hunting dog, salivating over her demise, teeth bared and ready to clamp around her neck. Of course, hunting dogs had soft mouths. They couldn’t actually devour their prey. They brought it back to the hunter. That was where the simile ended. If Carmen brought Reese Cordova back to Santiago, hunting season would be over for her.

"What kind of questions did you want me to answer?” Reese asked.

“Easy, chica,” Carmen cooed, standing up and crossing behind Reese’s chair. She walked to the table where Santiago kept his coffee machine. She flicked it on and pulled two Styrofoam cups out. She watched Reese over her shoulder. She sat in Santiago’s chair and watched Reese levelly. “We have a friend in common. So, tell me. How do you know Santiago Ortiz?”

[blueeyeddevil]

Reese Cordova

Reese had never been very good at keeping her emotions in check. In fact she was having to remind herself to just keep breathing at this point. This woman was making her very nervous and she wanted nothing more than to just leave. Reese's eyes followed her as she crossed behind to a coffee maker, pulling out two cups before coming back, now sitting in the chair across from her, which admittedly made Reese feel a little better.

“Easy, chica,” she said calmly. “We have a friend in common. So, tell me. How do you know Santiago Ortiz?”

That was another thing Reese tried to concentrate on. This woman was a friend of Santiago's. She seemed to know Reese was a friend of Santiago's...that had to count for something! She spoke quietly at first.

"He's a close friend," she said, staring down at her hands. "He use to date a friend of mine. They broke up and she left Paris. Somehow me and Santiago started hanging out and got to know each other and we got to be close." Reese gave a small shrug at the end, looking up to try and determine if this was a suitable enough answer.

[The Exodus]

Carmen Vega

The sound of coffee dripping into the carafe filed the air as Carmen waited for Reese’s answer. It sounded like the ticking of a clock; each drop, a second. Carmen counted five drops before Reese finally answered.

"He's a close friend," Reese said.

Reese didn’t look up, but instead studied her own hands. Carmen’s lip curled in amusement. He’s a close friend, a high pitched, snide voice echoed in her mind. She doubted that Diego was as close a friend as Reese thought.

"He used to date a friend of mine,” Reese continued, as if clarifying. “They broke up and she left Paris. Somehow me and Santiago started hanging out and got to know each other and we got to be close."

Carmen doubted the ex-girlfriend had really left Paris. If she knew Diego, the ex-girlfriend was dead. She’d probably found out too much and was now rotting away in the Seine. She decided against telling Reese this; whatever helped the girl sleep at night. Besides, Carmen wasn’t about to blow Diego’s cover. If she did that, she was as good as dead. They all were. Reese Cordova could easily be a whistle-blowing law abider.

In fact, that was probably why Diego had gotten so close to the girl. If he lulled her into a false sense of security, how likely was she to betray him? Friends close, enemies closer.

Carmen still couldn’t help but wonder if Diego and this girl were f*cking.

“How close would you say?” Carmen asked, leaning forward. “Are you really just friends?”