In Real Life (Prologue)

Part 1 Hit and Run

1.

I heard somewhere that life is a movie and we are the protagonists of our own story: we write our own scripts and act our own lines. Whoever wrote those words was probably being poetic and artsy. But he or she was—for the most part right. Strange things happen in real life, that are too precisely fitting to be mere coincidences. I believe my life is indeed a hoax, and I have been brought here to entertain. Who or what? I have no idea. But there is something fishy going on and I will prove it to you.

It all started on a Saturday night. I was going over some lessons from my drama class while 'How To Get Away With Murder' played on the TV at low volume. My bedroom lights were dim except for a neon red light that illuminated the edges of the walls and the ceiling.
My room was mostly empty, a sanctuary of inspiration, with nothing but a desk and a giant TV my father bought me to help me through my creative block.
I wanted to become a filmmaker someday and that was why I enrolled in the Film and Writing program of West Wing University. I was specifically going through the seven key steps of story structure to create my own story. By the end of this semester I had to turn in a complete screenplay to pass my drama class—and possibly win a film contract with Sony Pictures if my script ended up being the best of the class. Something hard to achieve given my own weakness of creating characters. I was all for the plot but my characters were dull and boring, the type you'd cut off on the next act if you had the chance.
Characters that have no arc were useless, just like those who have completed their arc. The storyteller has no other option but to kill them off to save some space for the more interesting ones. What a terrible fate for these artificially simulated humans in these high-tension packed stories. Mine specifically was a criminal story, of some kid who accidentally killed someone and managed to come out clean. But I've been patiently keeping up with this ABC show with no clue on how to have my protagonist actually get away with murder.
As I placed my graphite pencil down on my scribbled and scratched page of ideas, my phone glowed up to a single notification. Lighting up my entire room and killing off the devil's den vibe.

NOTIFICATION FROM LEO LUNA: OPEN UP!!!
12:05 AM

This couldn't be good. Leo had gone partying for the night to the opening of a new bar in the city. He wanted me to tag along but I had fallen behind on my brainstorm. This was strange of Leo, because he was the type of party goer who ends up returning home at 3 AM. This could only mean one thing. Based on past experiences, if Leo returned home before dawn, it could only mean he got into some trouble.
Another buzz.

NOTIFICATION FROM LEO LUNA: DUDE HURRY THE HELL UP...
12:07 AM

I walked out the door and through my apartment hallways. I pressed the intercommunicator button to tell the guards to let Leo in—even though they've known him since forever, it was security protocol to have residents approve guest visits.
Leo would have to go through the agony of seven floors worth of elevator music to reach my apartment. His messages emanated anxiety, and I could just feel it. He always comes to me when something goes wrong. Maybe he was too drunk to return home—luckily he used an Uber tonight. He was the worst type of danger behind a drunken wheel.
It wasn't a knock, but more of a SLAM on the door—two, to be more specific. I brought my friend in to find him gasping. He was drenched in sweat. And I didn't want to accept that he was also misted on something else. His white shirt highlighted the hundreds of tiny red specks sprayed on him.
"What is going on?"
But Leo ran away to my room—the same way a dog would do after digging a hole in your backyard. I followed him in and he shut the door behind me, unnecessary locking it. The TV screen was already showing the tease for the next episode... "On the next episode of How To Get Away with Murder..."
Leo stared at the TV and gave me this eerie look. I picked up the TV remote and ended the broadcast.
"What did you do?" I asked.
"I hit something..." Leo was trembling.
"Something or someone?"
Leo took a deep breath. He began to walk in circles, rummaging through my room for something.
"Do you have any—"
"No. You know I just have cigarettes." I reached into my pocket and handed him my pack with the lighter. He wasn't a cigarette smoker. Leo would only smoke when something bad happened. And he would always come for me to help him clean the mess up.
"Is that what I think it is?" I beckoned at the red stains on his shirt.
Leo laughed nervously but wouldn't stare back into my eyes. "You know it's halloween right? This is nothing..."
First lie.
"You know I can tell you're lying, don't you? I am your best friend, I know you better than you do yourself."
Leo remained silent for a few seconds. He took a puff from his cigarette. I opened the window and sat on my chair, staring at my friend's disturbed look. I knew he was trying his best to conceal whatever he did but it had to be so messed up that he couldn't fake it.
"I think I hurt someone," Leo said.
"You think?"
"I know."
"But what do you mean by hurt?" I pushed.
Leo released the cigarette smoke through his nose. "I ran over someone. I know I made a promise to you the other day that I would never ever drink and drive but I did. It was too dark and I was going really fast. I tried to break when I saw him but the road was wet. It felt like running over a log, the car almost crashed down the side of the street."
So he killed someone today. Involuntary manslaughter. I was facing a criminal, after all these years of knowing him. Thirteen years to be exact, my friend is a murderer.
I couldn't look at him. Instead I snatched the cigarettes from his hand and the lighter. I quickly lit one up and stared outside of my window. This was one hell of a mess. I never expected something like this to happen. It was always something minor: drug smuggling, owing money to someone relatively dangerous, or it was some girl drama. But not murder.
"Hold up," I said. There was something that didn't add up. "Why is your shirt sprayed with blood if you were driving a car?"
Second lie.
Or maybe he was leaving something unspoken. Leo was a really sleazy one. And I somehow slowly managed to crack him down every single time.
"Uhh, errr-" he began to stutter and I would only watch him.
"I don't know how in God's name you want me to help you. But if you want me to find some way to help you, you need to tell me the truth. Tell me everything I need to know Leo—and NOW!"
Leo crushed his cigarette against the wet windowsill before letting it fall out to the street.
"This is big Lincoln. I don't want to drag you into this."
"But you already did! Coming all the way in here with the vehicle that presumably killed someone. But there is more to the story, isn't there?"
Leo nodded.
"I was the one who hit him. But it didn't stop there..."
I remained silent, signaling for Leo to continue.
"I stopped the car and this guy, he was on the ground. There was no blood on my car but there was a body-sized obtrusion left all across the front. Here is when things get messy..."
"You are positive that here is when things get messy?"
"The road was lonely but a sports car soon dropped by with three guys. They were coming from the party as well. Joe Damon and his rats..."
"What the—"
Joe and his rodents were a douchebag squad that dominated the social hierarchy of our society.
"You know they carry guns and shit and I don't know why, they came out of the car and Joe shot the kid in front of me right in the head. The kid squirmed for half a millisecond when the blood sprayed all across my face and clothing. The rain washed the blood off of my face and arms but the memory is still replaying in my mind like a soccer replay."
"What the... and what did you do?"
"I froze man, I don't know. Joe embraced me with his arm and said he did me a favor. They promised to handle the body and told me to leave if I didn't want a bullet in my skull as well. But before I left, Joe said this wasn't a free transaction. He would come for me and ask me to do him a favor. And it wasn't negotiable."
I took a deep breath and sighed. What the actual hell? Here I was half-watching a criminal show and plotting some mediocre story and my best friend comes bustling with a dead-body problem.
I remained silent for a couple of seconds. Leo smoked the entire pack of cigarettes that night. I had run out of them, and my body was kicking for another dose of nicotine. But I was too afraid to leave the tower. I pictured police-men at the lobby as we spoke.
"Dude, are you sure nobody followed you all the way here?"
Leo wasn't the smartest psychology student. He had a hard time managing his emotions and was really messy. But when it came to monkey business, he could easily work for some drug lord. Putting it down simply, Leo was probably the perfect subject to be put to the test to get away with murder. But there were too many holes in this.
"I am sure I wasn't followed. This might sound twisted but tonight  was probably the perfect night to kill someone."
It was halloween after all.
"We have to fix that car ourselves," I told him. "What about that kid, why was he walking all by himself on the street?"
"I have no idea," Leo crushed the cigarette—this time on my working table. He reached into his pocket and brought out a cracked android phone that wasn't his. He placed it on the table.
I shot him a murderous look. "What the hell is this, man?"
"I figured, if we are going to get away with this, we have to at least figure out who was killed tonight. It's human decency man."
When I thought Leo could be any bit more stupid. I brought my hands to my forehead. "I don't think you comprehend how big this is. Gimme that!" I snatched the phone from Leo's hand. I pressed the power button to find it discharged. I had no android charger so I locked it inside my desk drawer.
"What now?"
I had to think and I had to think quick. If I helped him, I'd be an accomplice. But Leo was my best friend, and I have always done my best to protect him and keep him out of trouble.
"You are thinking what I'm thinking?" Leo continued.
"No, you can't read my mind."
"But I know it crossed your thoughts. We need your Father's help."
My Father... that was a whole other can of worms.
Putting it simple, my Father had power and influence in the intricate workings of this city. I can't speak much about him at the moment because he doesn't like it when I talk about him. So I can't tell you about him right now. All you have to know is he is my last resort when it comes to solving problems when they get out of hand.
Father and I didn't have much in common. Other than my tall stature and mediocre nose, we also shared a fundamental skill necessary to survive in this world: we were problem solvers.
He used to tell me: son, you and I—we were brought to this world to clean the shit of other people. We are like mops and brooms, like the hotel staff members that make sure the bed sheets are clean and ironed—without a trace of human sweat and what not. Keen to keep the furniture impeccable and the bathroom squeaky clean before the next guest comes in. It's not only amazing but it's an art form. To clean a mess, that is.
Then he proceeded to abandon me for like two months. We would speak on the phone every now and then, but he wouldn't come home. He was out there doing business. The type of business Leo would be a natural in.
And it's been like that ever since. My Father comes home every two months or so—sometimes three, and he would stay for no more than a week. The apartment was all left all to myself and Leo—and all the big, fat, and chunky trouble he would squeeze through the door for me to clean like a hotel staff member. But enough about my Father. I hope he is not reading this right now. Because he gets to the bottom of EVERYTHING.
"Lincoln!"
"Huh?"
"You dozed off..." Leo was staring out through the window. He wasn't holding a cigarette but my brainstorming notebook for my script. "It's crazy to think that I sorta killed someone today and you are writing about a murder. Are we like connected or something. There should be a word for that."
"You sound like an idiot, Leo. It is too soon to joke around with this. I don't know what to do. For starters we aren't contacting my Father. I can handle this. You sure test my wits. But maybe this is what I need."
"A criminal friend?" Leo beamed at me.
"A little bit of inspiration," I corrected.