ANGELIC...
My phone vibrates next to me, and I moan softly as I open my eyes and try to reach over my head, fumbling around the table. When I got home last night, I randomly put my things away in the room.
Grabbing the device, I try to unplug the charger cable, but then realize it wasn't plugged in. Shit.
I yawn as I swipe the screen and see the missed calls, two from my personal security and one from Vicenzo. The last one left a message saying he'd be joining me at college today, and my head aches just thinking about the first day of school after recess.
Jesus. Why so early? I blink a few more times, then widen my eyes when I see the time in the upper right corner. Ten o'clock!
"Shit! - I swear.
I jump. I took a shower last night when I arrived so I skipped the morning shower. I run to the bathroom and brush my teeth trying to remember this morning's appointments. What would really be the first class? God, I hate being late.
In the closet, I put on the first skirt I find, a short one, and I put it on. I don't have time to choose another room. I take a t-shirt, shoes and a bag, always ready with everything I need.
I rush down the hallway with a cell phone, glasses, and a wallet in my hand, throwing everything into my bag as I run down the stairs.
On the first floor, the breakfast table is no longer set. Excellent! I'll have to eat something on the way. I wander around the room looking for Marcos, as he is always available to me in the morning. I can not find it.
"Big day," I mumble to myself.
I should have programmed myself better. When I got back from the Bronx, I didn't go to bed straight away. I had a temper tantrum. But unlike kids who cry, scream and throw tantrums, I went to the home gym, grabbed Elliot's boxing gloves and punched the bag until my hands were numb . Bad idea, but at least it eased my tension.
The White. Damn LeBlanc.
The arrogance of this man to believe that he could arrive in this country, with his accent and his charm, and deceive everyone. He didn't even try to hide that he was lying. Anger runs through my veins. What would be your goal then? What else is a lie?
I could touch the bag now. Or him, but that would mean seeing him, and I don't want that today. Or the other days.
I look at my slightly reddened knuckles. I look at the color that reminded me of Christmas as much as the apples, roses and fig trees with dried leaves that I saw as a child.
My phone signals an incoming voicemail, and I come back to the present, remembering the time. Shit.
- Frames? - shout.
- Yes – in the same second, he answers, already running in the room.
- I am late.
- Hello miss. Donelli. I'm ready to go.
- Hello - I answer him with a spontaneous smile.
He walks past me, opens the front door, and holds it open for me to exit. I watch the sunny day in the condo, forcing myself to lighten my mood. Yes, I'm angry that I believed LeBlanc and ignored my intuition. Anger against him. Anger against me. However, a small part of me would like to know what he would say if I confronted him.
When I get in the car and Marcos heads downtown, I'm immediately taken in by the hustle and bustle of the city. People come and go from work, go about their daily business, rush around other slower pedestrians, zigzag through the streets to the sound of horns and the shouting of taxis.
The clouds are low, like smoke tinged with dark purple, and the icy breeze is blowing through the open window, even though it's mid-August. I smell the earth, even though everything around me is brick and concrete. I need to focus on something other than the bustle. I don't even know why I'm so angry. He owed me nothing, not even sincerity.
Arrived at the college, Marcos accompanies me inside. After the severe budget cut, I lost five security guards. Not that it's bad, because I feel freer that way, but the way we're descending is worrying. At times like these, I'm thankful that I was never announced as the president's daughter, or I'd be in serious security trouble now.
After desperately apologizing, I asked the guidance counselor to insert me between two appointments, and I finalized my schedule, as well as my long-term planning. Classes started today, so it was a relief to be able to talk to her and start the school year on the right foot.
Later, I went to a bookstore looking for books on my reading list, had a coffee and decided to walk around the neighborhood, enjoying the little shops, the unusually cold but sunny day and the beauty of the city. I like everything. This bustling metropolis is unparalleled for arts culture, bookstores and museums.
The variety of food on offer in the restaurants entertains even the most discerning diners, and you couldn't help but admire the fig trees that line the sidewalks and the plants and shrubs among the flower beds outside the buildings. It's beautiful and unique.
But there is also a certain dark charm to the city. How skyscrapers completely block light. As the park's treetops surround you like you're in a cave, turning the green grass almost black. How the silent alleys are shrouded in fog at dawn, making you wonder what was there, because you know you wouldn't have the courage to see it for yourself.
My phone vibrates as I finish my second coffee, to urge my stomach to come home for lunch. I'm walking to the principal's office because the dean asked us to talk after school. I take my phone out of my bag and watch the unknown number flash on the screen. I sigh, having no idea who it could be. I'm guessing it's Vicenzo, because we agreed to meet today in college, and he didn't show up. When he is in his father's office, he often communicates through unknown public numbers.
"Is that you, Candidate Senator?" I answer trying to joke.
I really like Vicenzo. I wouldn't marry her, even though our parents love the idea, but I would. I will find Vicenzo for the rest of my life, our families being so close, and I want us to be good friends.
- How was the first day of school? he asks, sounding more relaxed than he had been the last time we met at the party.
- That was great – I throw the coffee cup in the trash and I keep walking - I was earlier at the bookstore, picking up the rest of my documents.
- It's awesome. I am busy at the office. Don't spread it, but my dad wants my first application to be later this year.
- Serious? – My tone of voice seems discouraging, so I'm trying to improve myself – That's great, isn't it?
- Must be. I do it for my father.
I'm thinking of saying something nice, in the sense that Vicenzo doesn't have to do something just to please his father. But who am I to give this advice?
- What about your father's candidacy? - he asks.
I huff a silent laugh, shaking my head.
- She's sponsored by someone. The... Bruce Campbell.
- What are you talking about?
- Of this year's bid. Elliot is funded. I don't know if it should be a secret, but...
Vicenzo interrupts me curtly.
- What do you mean by funding? Elliot said this would be his last year in politics. His voice becomes shrill.
- He changed his mind. It can happen, can't it?
- Cum! he growls "Is Bruce Campbell still in the country, then?" Why didn't you tell me?
I don't answer, confused and not sure why this topic is so important to him in the first place. Yes, I know politics is a war of endless rivalry and competition, but Elliot and the senator were allies, until yesterday. Suddenly "Bruce" enters the game and everything changes? Is there much more that I don't know?
- Angelica - Begins Vicenzo, his voice unyielding - If your father chose Campbell's side, don't. Don't make that choice. This man arrived yesterday and is making changes too drastic for my taste.
- Political changes?
- Also, but not only. Buy buildings, move coins in politics, demonstrate influence in the police. He is unreliable.
- He's interfering with your family's plans, I understand. But that has nothing to do with me.
- Yes.
- Because?
- Because I don't want you near him.
- Because? - I insist.
For reasons of mine, I don't want to be around LeBlanc. Or Campbell, whatever. However, nothing gives Vicenzo the right to say what I can or cannot do. I don't have your last name. Enough people telling me what to do.
"Do you really need to ask?" he cuts off. "Your dad is desperate not to fall like crap in the public eye." He would accept any illegality to stay in power. I'm serious. Stay away from Campbell. If necessary, take your things and go to the hotel.
I stand in the middle of the room, my mouth slightly open, not understanding what's wrong with him. And who does he think he is to direct me like that? He has more common sense than that.
"Listen, I start by trying to keep my voice calm, I have no idea what outbreak is going through your mind, but I'm not leaving my house. It's a safe place, if that's what worries you.
"I don't want you there," he repeats, slamming his order. - You got it?
"No," I said, gritting my teeth. - I didn't understand. You were my friend, not my owner. I'm not going to leave my house, I'm not going to run away from Campbell just because your daddy is afraid of him, and I won't let you act like you have any right to me!
I hear his bitter laugh on the other end of the line.
"You planned this, didn't you?" From the first time I saw you together, I knew he wanted you, and he got it all: to dominate the streets, the people, and probably your bed.
I shake my head, closing my eyes tightly.
"What are you implying with that?" I ask gritting my teeth until my jaw hurts.
My phone beeps again and I pull it away from my ear to see what happened. Call closed. I tilt my head back in exasperation. What is that ?
I always knew there was a war in New York. All people with money or power want to dominate the city, putting their names on the streets as if they were gods. Senator Mares is a master of self-promotion. LeBlanc wouldn't be the first to do so, so why does Vicenzo care so much?
Suddenly the realization hits me like a freight train. Vicenzo doesn't care about politics, he cares about me. If "Bruce" has everything, including me, Vicenzo loses the woman he had in the palm of his hands.
He wants to have me, not because he's in love with me, but because I'm the perfect woman for men like him. I understand politics, and I wouldn't fuss when I saw a pile of cash hidden in the bathroom stall.
But more than that, I now need to know exactly who LeBlanc is and what he's doing around town. Vicenzo talked about buying buildings and influencing politics. I don't even know where to start investigating, but I know a place where people know who he is.
All I have is a name, but I feel like enough is enough.
I take advantage of the cell phone in hand and look for a number in my phone book.