Shantrice from The East: The Anthology

(#WIP) EXPECTATIONS: INTRUSION, Pt. 02 [Story No. 02]

• 03: The Cookie Crumbles with a Cherry on Top

On the other side of Aves, deep in the heart of Scarlet Slum, a purple Rolls-Royce Wraith has pulled up outside Kareem Zacca's bar (which is eponymously and mononymously known as Zacca's). Sitting in the backseat of the vehicle, hidden behind presidential-level tint, is Fatso Malveaux chewing on the end of a dying cigar. He has come all the way from Skogwick to discuss some very important business, things that need to be talked about face-to-face.

However, he was informed on a brief, last minute call with Zacca as he left home that they would have an individual joining them, but he failed to say whether they are male or female. This spur-of-the-moment development left him feeling very uneasy, fretting the entire ride over and grinding the aforementioned cigar between his giant teeth.

Zacca tried to assuage his worries by explaining that this person is integral to their carefully crafted plans, but Fatso can be as stubborn as a mule when it comes to strangers joining in on his ventures. To him, this just means less money he'll receive once everything is finalized. Regardless if he's put up a majority of the funds for a project, he seeks a munificent return on his investment.

His driver and bodyguard, Kadejah, quickly gets out to open his door, handing her boss his cane and bowler hat in the process. Before he exits though, Fatso takes precautions to ensure he doesn't get his bourbon-colored Stacy Adams wet by grabbing the Harbor Haven Gazette which he was reading during his trip and handing it to Kelly so that she can cover a puddle. The newspaper, as thin as a manila folder, doesn't help much and water still splashes, drenching his shoes and the cuffs of his pants.

"This is ridiculous! I must contact Jackson immediately once this meeting is over with," Fatso gripes as he rubs the black tourmaline his left cufflink is inlaid with. Whenever he's nervous or worried about something, he gently strokes the gemstone to calm himself down. His wife, Michelle, has always seen it as a silly superstitious ritual, but to him it actually works. It's one of the many things in his life he's certain he can always depend on. "Why this area still doesn't have storm drains, I'll never understand. Albeit, this is the ghetto, still doesn't mean it needs to be this neglected. How can I do business in a place that doesn't have the proper infrastructure for rainwater to escape into? Pathetic."

Even though he's the head of a notorious criminal empire, Fatso has a heart for making sure impoverished areas get all the things they require. His home of Skogwick has an embarrassing reputation for being a pretty poor city, more poor than Dustbuckle in Southern Illamaqua to be honest, but he's gone through all the proper channels to improve its standing. To this end, he runs his organization with an iron fist, with major emphasis on being "efficiently ruthless". His business dealings are both legal and illegal, respectively.

"Well, I guess it's time," he murmurs. He tosses his gnawed cigar to the ground, crushing it with the cast-iron tip of his cane, which has a much bigger piece of black tourmaline atop where he grips it. He read years ago about the stone's properties for dispelling negative energy, so he keeps two on hand almost literally. Currently though, the gems are doing diddly-squat to help him find his peace "Kadejah, I have a question to ask of you."

"Sure, boss. What is it?"

"Do you believe in the negative and positive?"

"Uh, come again? I'm not following you."

"I'm referring to vibrational energy. Do you believe in it, and that such has an effect on our everyday life?"