Guardian Angels

Chapter 12

After the set, Izzy made her rounds through the bar, her presence commanding and assured amidst the throng of patrons. Sam watched her approach, noting the way people seemed to gravitate towards her, drawn in by her charisma and perhaps, the power her name wielded. When Izzy reached Sam's table, Sam greeted her with a warm, appreciative smile.

"Your voice... it's absolutely amazing," Sam started, hoping to break the ice with genuine praise. "And, if you don't mind me saying, you're even more stunning up close."

Izzy offered a polite, practiced smile, the kind born of countless similar compliments. "Thank you. Music's always been my refuge. Keeps the chaos of the world at bay, both on stage and off." Her tone was friendly yet measured, maintaining a professional distance.

Sam leaned in slightly, trying to bridge the gap between casual patron and someone seeking a deeper connection. "Speaking of chaos, running a place like this, in the heart of the city's nightlife... You must have some incredible stories." Her voice tinged with playful curiosity, trying to seem nonchalant but interested. "I've heard a bit about you, Isabella. About this place. It's... impressive, what you've managed to maintain here. A neutral ground, right?"

Izzy's smile tightens slightly, aware of the underlying inquirye. "It's all about balance and respect. People know what this place stands for." Her eyes sharpened, her gaze assessing Sam anew. "But let me guess," she paused, her voice carrying a hint of steel, "you're a cop, aren't you? It's in the stance, the way you observe. Not just any cop, though. Something more."

Caught slightly off guard but not wanting to deceive, Sam nodded. "Guilty as charged. Sergeant Sam Gray, recently 'promoted'," she air-quoted, her voice tinged with a mix of humor and resignation. "But tonight, I'm just Sam, seeking some fun and good music. Nothing more."

Izzy's posture relaxed minutely, but the wariness didn't leave her eyes. "A cop is still a cop, Sergeant Gray. Even if you're off duty." Her tone wasn't accusatory, but it held a clear message—there were boundaries that wouldn't be crossed, especially with the police. "I perform most nights. If you're interested in the music, you're welcome anytime. But if you're looking for information, I'm afraid I can't help you. I just run a bar, Sergeant."

Sam could sense the palpable distrust, a divide born of Izzy's experiences and the reputation of the police within the underworld. "Understood. No offense intended. I appreciate the conversation, Isabella. And the beer. I'll be sure to stop by again, for the music." Sam's response was an attempt to acknowledge the rift, holding up her hands in a gesture of peace.

Izzy studied Sam for a moment longer, then nodded, a gesture of acknowledgment if not entirely acceptance. "Enjoy the night, Sergeant Gray. Diaz's Crossroads is open to all who seek refuge from the chaos of the city. Just remember, the peace here is delicate. Don't upset the balance."

With that, Izzy excused herself, melting back into the crowd, leaving Sam to ponder the conversation. It was a clear indication of the lines drawn in the sand, the invisible barriers that separated her world from Izzy's. Sam's intent to gather information had hit a wall, but it hadn't been entirely fruitless. Izzy Diaz was as sharp as she was cautious, a survivor in a world that consumed the unwary. And while the distrust between them was a chasm wide and deep, Sam couldn't help but feel a spark of respect for the woman who navigated the underworld's treacherous waters with such poise and authority.

Sam took a sip of her drink, her mind racing with thoughts of how to bridge that divide, how to earn Izzy's trust—or if it was even possible. Resigned to the fact that Izzy Diaz was a fortress she wouldn't be breaching tonight, Sam redirected her focus back to the primary reason she had ventured into Diaz's Crossroads. The buzzing atmosphere of the bar, alive with music and the chatter of its patrons, provided the perfect backdrop for her next move.