Page 27 of Tempted By the Devil

The beep cuts me off.

I hang up burning from the same embarrassment I had exactly twelve hours ago. Earlier it was from the sheets. Now it’s from facing the fact that it seems I’ve been stood up.

I sigh through the disappointment. “I knew it was too good to be true.”

“Oh, sissy… fuck that guy! His loss. Want to go out for drinks just us?”

As much as I appreciate her attempt to cheer me up, I can’t bring myself to. A thousand different reasons fill my head wondering what could’ve gone wrong. Was Rafael pretending when he said he was okay with the accident? Was the sex terrible for him? Did he meet a new woman?

Maybe it really was a one-night stand, and he didn’t know how to break the news to me…

I strip off the clothes I’ve put on, washing away every streak of makeup, and then collapse in bed ready to sleep this awful experience away.

In the morning, I check my phone for any missed calls or messages. Anything from Rafael explaining what happened last night. Making sense of why he would stand me up. Instead I’ve only received messages from Finkle talking about some major crime story Newport Metro News is first to break.

A sigh leaves me as reality finally sinks in. I won’t ever hear from Rafael Calderone again…

6

PORTIA

A YEAR AND A HALF LATER…

“Good evening Newport,this is Portia James, coming to you from the meat-packing district, where just moments ago, there was gunfire. We’re told by NPPD that the assailants involved were from rival gangs,” I say, speaking into the microphone. The late evening wind whips my hair across my face as I stare into the camera and brief viewers at home on all the grisly details. “Officers are currently canvasing the factory where the gunfight broke out, but from what we can gather, two individuals have succumbed to injuries while several more are en route to Newport General.”

I turn to a rosy-cheeked woman in a puffer coat and rollers in her hair, holding out the microphone for her to speak.

“Ma’am, you say you were in the area when the gunshots went off. Can you tell the viewers at home more about what you witnessed?”

“It went BANG-BANG-BANG!” she blurts out loudly, pawing at the handle of the microphone. An awkward second passes where I refuse to give it up and she tries to pry it out of my hand. “I was out walking my dogs Fifi and Coco, and next thing I know, there’s this nasty rotten egg stench in the air. I cowered by that fence right over there. Fifi and Coco got so nervous, they got liquid diarrhea on the spot. Took a huge shit right on the sidewalk. See for yourself.”

“Uhh…. I’ll have to take a raincheck on that offer,” I say, casting an artificial smile at the camera. “Did you happen to see any of the assailants involved in the incident?”

She shakes her head so vigorously, a roller slips free of her fiery red hair. “Hard to tell. All I saw was smoke and some men running out of that old factory across the street. There was some van waiting for them. They hopped right on in. Some other guys ran out to get ’em but were too late.”

“There you have it, Newport,” I say. “Eyewitness testimony seems to corroborate this was a conflict between two opposing criminal gangs. Newport Police ask that if you have any information on what occurred tonight, to please contact them at the number on the screen.”

The live broadcast ends with my field producer, Baron, calling cut.

I drop the microphone from my mouth and step toward the filming crew. “Have we made any headway with getting a one-on-one with the lead detective on the case?”

“It’s an active police investigation, Portia,” says Baron. “Patience is a virtue.”

“Patience is also what costs news stations the next big story. Get Captain Poveri on the phone.”

Baron sighs, pulling off his headphones and half rolling his eyes. “Portia, how many times do I have to tell you? We can’t treat Captain Poveri’s direct number like a free use hotline.”

“He’s a public official.”

“And this is an official investigation.”

“People have died. Innocent civilians were in danger. You heard the lady I interviewed—Fifi and Coco had the shits all over the sidewalk. This is important and you know why it is. You know who and what was behind this.”

“Portia—”

My producer calls after me, but it’s too late.

I’ve already pivoted on my heel and strode across the street where the gaggle of squad cars are gathered.

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