Day 002

“There are gradients in this city, you know?”

Dean DeCosta was all legs when he sat, his body slack in the black upholstered chair that was pulled away from the table it belonged. His arms crossed at his chest, one hand up near his mouth with fingers slipped between his lips, teeth chewing on nail.

“Of course I know that,” He replied to the other man who sat across from him.

Unkempt, unshaven and slightly tired around his eyes, Noel Nakamura gave a shrug and picked up his drink. He took a sip before he spoke again.

“I’m just telling you. Later on I don’t want to hear you don’t know these things.” Noel pointed to a spot on a map that took over most of the table between them. It was brightly colored, the legend at the bottom two colums long. He ran his finger across the shaded areas near the top, careful not to cross boundaries.

“I’ve heard about this city long before I moved here,” Dean said.

“They talk about us in Italy?” Noel looked up, his finger pausing.

“They talk about a lot of things in Rome.”

“Interesting.”

Noel adjusted himself and pushed the map closer to Dean. It slid up against the tall clear glass of iced coffee Dean had opted to drink. Wet perspiration drips slid down on impact, dotting the edges of the map.

“You should take this with you though. Just in case. You never know when you’re going to be in someone’s territory.”

“Doesn’t this kind of stuff change often?” Not moving from his seat, Dean rose a brow. He slid further in the chair, his back arching with each incremental move.

“We keep bingo cards,” Noel smirked under a ragged looking mustache. “Only the small time things change, not the major stuff. The clubs in the center are never owned.” Leaning over, Noel pointed to a trio of circles in the middle of the map. “That’s the major rule of this territorial game. Nothing goes down there, it keeps the government out of our system, the citizens happy and the tourists coming.”

Dean gave a small shrug.

“You don’t care much, do you?” Noel sighed and leaned back. He riffled through his pocket and found a cigarette and it’s lighter. He didn’t offer any out, but he took a cigarette for himself, lit it and took an inhale before he spoke again. “Here I thought I was doing you a service.”

“I don’t have any intention on joining any gangs during my stay here. I didn’t realize a cultural appropriation squad would show up when my plane landed here.” Dean righted himself, but only only to take his glass of coffee and drink from it.

“Still, it’s good to know,” Noel countered. “In case something does happen.”

“Well, when it happens, I’ll be happy to know I have this map in my pocket, I guess.”

When Dean DeCosta stood up, he was all legs as well. He pulled down his plain white tee shirt and took the map that Noel had offered him, folding it at least six times before shoving it in the pocket of his dark rinse jeans. He shrugged to the guy and turned to leave.

“I expect my bingo cards in the mail.”

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