That same night, Mr. Rossi was wrapping up business for the day, with Ryan not too far behind with her notebook, logging any tasks she had to do the next day. Rossi was doing his favorite thing of brooding out the window, looking out into the light filled below, all the bulbs dancing and moving about. He watched with indifference. "You know, Ryan, people say I hate this city. I inject it with crime and pain. They simply do not understand the power of fear. Fear isn't just me threatening to hit you, it's that constant worry. It's the motivation of doing your best, or consequences will come. I haven't killed a man personally since I was 25. Yet, people are scared that I would kill them or ruin their lives. That's power. And I need that power to protect this city."
He turned and walked over to his desk, pulling out a cigar to smoke, but Ryan heard a buzzing noise, meaning someone wanted to come up. She left his office, and a few minutes later, returned with news. "It's the mayor, Mr. Rossi."
"Good, good." Rossi said, scratching his chin. He gestured to Ryan. "Bring him up."
"Yes, sir."
Oliver Coleson, the mayor of New York. An old, graying white dude with a stick up his ass. He was constantly frowning. He was balding, refusing to let the rest of his hair go. With his gray suit and light red tie, he walked in, grumpy as usual. He hasn't had the best few years as mayor. He was clearly on the way out, and the people knew it. Especially after the situation with Rice in 2008. This desperation caused him to have friends in unlikely, seedy places. "You wanted to see me, what do you want, Rossi?"
Rossi, blowing smoke, leaned back in his chair with a smile. "Our mayor. Smile more! Who cares if your approval rating went down again?"
"It's because of you!" Coleson snapped. "You and your damn thugs raising hell around New York, and I'm supposed to do nothing?"
"Yes, because you're setting the stage for me, remember? Next year, I'm running. We talked about this."
Coleson folded his arms. "Is this all you wanted to say?"
Rossi laughed. He loved it when he made powerful people squirm. The control was just too enticing. "No. I need your boys in blue to not watch the docks in a few weeks."
"Why?"
"If you must know, I have a very expensive and needed present for my guests at the end of the month. You know how important this is for me? For New York?"
"I doubt adding more crime to this city would help, but you can tell me," Coleson said.
Rossi kept that smirk, holding all the cards. "You still stuck on that? Yes, I need money, and the drugs are fast and easy to offload. And I can't share details, but I'm meeting powerful people. And their backing would set me up with more money than ever. I can fund my campaign, rule New York, fuck it, the world." He was being hyperbolic at the end, but he said with such conviction, maybe he believed it. "All I need for you is to just ignore the docks when I tell you."
Coleson grit his teeth. "This would make me look like an idiot. How the hell could you get me into the senate anyway?"
Rossi looked insulted. "Seriously? You think I just say shit? I know people, powerful people in the Republican Party. You know how long they've been waiting for a decent candidate? They would fight tooth and nail to earn those votes."
"Hm," Coleson hummed.
"Yeah. Hm. We got a deal?"
Coleson nodded, reluctant to take such a shit deal, but he knew that Rossi was the key to the senate. A dirty, grimy key.
As the mayor left, he let Ryan go, and Rossi went home to his suburban home in upstate New York. The place was so big, you could house a family in one random room. Two floors, a basement, a pool, and more. Rossi came home to his beautiful wife smoking while watching TV on the 70 inch, not acknowledging his existence. The maids did their job, with the mostly soulless white marble floors and walls spotless as Joane tried to escape her life for a fleeting second.
Joane was a trophy wife, the last of her kind. She literally only existed to be Rossi's sex object of desire. She was made to make other men jealous. This was a reality that was hard to swallow. She was a talented student. She graduated from college with honors in computer science. Something she forgot she earned. She was a beautiful woman, just hit forty not too long ago. With her flowing curly brown hair, pale skin with freckles lining her face, and emerald green eyes. She saw the magazines, that meant over the hill. Good thing the therapist ordered extra anti depressants, right?
Rossi stared at her for a second. "Hey."
Joane glanced at him. "Hi."
"You ok?"
Joane laughed, taking a drag. "I don't wanna lie to you, hun."
Rossi frowned. "The fuck is the issue, then? The house not big enough?"
With a scoff, Joane looked away. "Always money with you. You think I'm vapid, Lars? You think all I give a shit about is the cash in your pocket?"
"That's all you should care about."
"I want a husband, damn it!" Joane stood up. "I want an actual family. Not you showing up at night just to fuck me and spoil our daughter. She's an ungrateful brat! You need to beat–"
"I…" Rossi interrupted. He got up close to her face, pointing a finger at her as he spoke low, growling his words. "Am not hitting our little girl."
Joane flinched, but she held her ground, quieter. "She's not a little girl anymore. She just needs a father. A present one."
"I am here. I give you both a life any fucker off the street would kill to want. You'll never understand what it's like to be the man of the house. I'm tired. Come to bed."
Joane grit her teeth, she knew what that meant. "Don't…. Don't be so rough this time."
"No promises."