Lola: Chapter Two
“Frank was my brother.”
Alphonse Moreno is an imposing man. Despite the best efforts of the best tailors in Los Angeles, the expensive suit he wears doesn’t fit him. Moreno wasn’t a man meant to wear expensive suits. He was a man meant to run a criminal organization. He stares out a window down at the traffic twenty floors below.
Several people stand at attention behind him. He does not bother to face them. There’s one man sitting down in front of his desk.
“He may not have been the smartest man. But he was loyal.” Moreno turns to face the room. “He was loyal to me, he was loyal to all of you.”
“He was a good man, a kind man. God knows, he wasn’t a family man.” Moreno almost lets out a smile. “He had his flaws, we all do. It was my job to look after him.”
Moreno lowers his head to come face to face to Bellows, the man in the chair in front of his desk.
“Do you know what that means to have that kind of responsibility? He was my younger brother. My younger brother!” He pounds his fist on the arm of Bellows’ chair.
Two of Moreno’s bodyguards stand at the door, still at attention. A third man, Jackson, stands against the wall holding a business folder. His expensive suit fits him better.
Moreno continues yelling at Bellows. “And you sent him on this bullshit assignment.”
“It was important.”
“Was he your errand boy?”
“He wanted to do it.”
“Was he your errand boy!” .
“He asked me to do it.” Bellows says quietly.
“I don’t care what he asked you to do. It wasn’t his decision. It was yours! I trusted you to make those decisions!”
Moreno turns back to his desk.
“We both know that Frank could be careless. That he could be sloppy. That’s why he wasn’t supposed to handle these things.”
Moreno fingers a fancy black pyramid-shaped paper weight that is sitting on his desk. He picks it up.
“Do you know he gave this to me?” Moreno shows it to Bellows. “Just last year, it was a gift for my fiftieth birthday.” Moreno smiles at the memory. Bellows gives a small smile, too.
“He was a kind-hearted man. He may have not been the brightest, but no one could ever doubt his heart.” Moreno walks over to Bellows still holding the paper weight. That’s why he had to be looked after. He was too kind, really.” Bellows nods in agreement.
“That’s why he had to be taken care of.”
Bellows continues to nod, looks up to Moreno hopeful. It appears the tirade is over, that Moreno is calming down. Moreno continues to stare at the paperweight, lost in thought. The longer he stares the more something builds inside of him. Moreno shifts the paperweight from his right hand to his left hand and back again.
“You were supposed to look after him.” Anger rising.
“And you just fucked it up!”
Moreno hits Bellows in the eye with the point of the paper weight. Blood flies in all directions. He hits Bellows again. One of Moreno’s bodyguards turns in disgust. Moreno smashes the sharp point into Bellows face over and over again.
Jackson watches on coldly. Bellows body slumps to the floor. Moreno’s face and shirt are full of blood. There is a giant hole where Bellows’ right eye used to be.
Moreno looks at the lifeless body of his failed underling. Now that he’s gotten his anger out, he begins to calm down. He composes himself, adjusts his shirt, straightens his jacket. He gestures to his two bodyguards.
“Clean up this mess.”
The bodyguards take Bellows’ body away. Jackson closes the door behind them. Moreno gets out a tissue and starts cleaning the blood off the paper weight. He tries to remove the blood from his shirt and face. The small tissue loses the battle, it has little effect on the stains. Moreno turns to Jackson.
“Who killed my brother?”
“Peter said a woman in a black dress emerged from the rubble.”
“Who the fuck is Peter?”
Moreno carelessly throws the paper weight down on his desk. It tumbles and rolls several times.
“He’s the manager of the Starlite Motel. It was one of ours.”
“Frank took her to one of our places?” Moreno shakes his head. “What do the police have to say about this?”
“It’s been handled.”
Moreno turns down a picture on his desk. It’s of his brother, his girlfriend, and himself at some tropical vacation resort. They look happy, relaxed. The picture is now streaked with blood.
“Did she have it?”
“No.”
This upsets Moreno almost as much as the death of his brother.
“Do we know who she is?”
“No.”
“Do we know where she is?”
“Yes.”
“At least we fucking know something.”
Moreno balls up his fist again. He looks like he wants to hit something, anything. “I need that briefcase back.”
He takes a second to think, to try come up with a solution. His balled up fist relaxes. “Put Walters on it. He’ll know what to do.”
Jackson nods.
Moreno walks to the window and peaks through the half-closed blinds down at the street. “If the wrong person ends up with those documents I don’t have to tell you what will happen.”
Moreno looks to Jackson. They make eye contact.
“It’ll be taken care of.” Jackson assures his boss.