The Court Chronicles (A Blog Novella) - Part II, Chapter 14

Click here for Chapter 13

After much confusion, a helicopter ride, and some shoving and pulling Veronica is lead to a cushioned chair and pushed down aggressively to take a seat. Still blind folded, Veronica hears whispers and strains to hear what is being said.

“Boss…touched her.”

“Take care of it…the boyfriend...she knows.”

“You sure?...messy…cops.”

“I don’t…leave…”

A long pause fills the room as her heart begins to race. The sound of her own blood pulsing through veins is the only sound she hears. A shift of movement shuffles around her. She senses they are preparing to finish her off.

“If you are going to kill me, can you do me the courtesy of taking off my blindfold? I’d like to see the face of my executer. Grant me the dignity of that, please.”

Just then Veronica feels someone gently untying her blindfold. Her heart races faster. This is it. I am going to die. As the blindfold is pulled away Veronica takes in the room. Windowless but ornately decorated. Veronica sits at the head of a long mahogany table. Beautiful tapestries cover the walls and an antique cabinet displays the most beautiful china. A man in his mid-sixties walks from behind her and sits adjacent to her. His salt and pepper hair contrast with his dark piercing eyes. He looks at Veronica as he shifts his weight in his seat and rests his elbow on the arm rest.

“Are you hungry?” the man asks with out emotion. Veronica is having a hard time reading him. His eyes, his body language, his tone—all are void of feeling.

“Where is Garret?”

“I am Vazquez,” he introduces, ignoring Veronica’s question. He leans over and presses the intercom on the table. “Victor, bring us some coffee and those Italian cookies.” A man walks in almost immediately and sets down a plate of exotic cookies and pours them each a cup of coffee.
“How do you take it?” asks Vazquez.

“To go.”

At this Vazquez reveals a smile. He takes in a sip of his coffee.

“Listen Vasquez, sir. I am very overwhelmed by all of this. Drugs, guns, helicopter flights—all of this is not my life.”

“Well, Veronica. This has very much become mine. And I have made myself a small fortune.”

“But at the cost of what? People’s lives?" Veronica swallows back tears, "Sir, where is Garret?”

“You like this boy. Why? He has exposed you to a lot of danger. A man that can not protect you does not deserve you. Remember I said that.”

“I’ll sow it onto a pillow so I’ll never forget.” Veronica is surprised by her own words. She knows she is playing with fire. A man like Vazquez is feared; not mocked.

“If you’re anything like your grandmother, your needle point is amazing.” Vazquez’s eyes dig into Veronica for a reaction.

“What do you know about my grandmother?” probes Veronica with a lump in her throat. She can handle herself but no one can touch her family.

“She makes the best tamales. Your mother could never get them right.” Vazquez looks down and examines his coffee. His face expresses that he is mulling over a memory. “Veronica, allow me to reintroduce myself. My name is Vazquez and I am your father.”