You're an anglerfish

The day had gone by in a flash. He'd spent most of it in a meeting regarding a deal that needed renewal. Afterward, he'd talked on the phone with the organization in New York. He still carried the title as a lieutenant for them, responsible for the overview of their business in Gaia. But little did they know, that he wasn’t only helping their drug business, but practically every cartel around. Getting a bit of the cake without being involved to a detrimental degree. He'd steered clear of the police and angel's radar for so long. And he intended for it to stay that way. Besides, it was as they said: keep your friends close but your enemies closer. So even if they found out that he played multiple strings, surely they'd understand it was benefitting their organization in the end.
He balanced a pen between his fingers as he read through a document, only faintly registering the front door shutting close in the reception. He lifted his gaze to the half-opened door to his office as he hadn’t heard the familiar welcome. He’d told the receptionist to clean up a room for him, but he’d reckoned she’d been back by now. Them being the only staff on-site for the night. He supposed he couldn’t blame her for taking this long, however. He knew how stubborn bloodstains could be to remove. He rose from the leather chair in his office, placing the document and pen on the table before he headed out. Walking the short distance to the reception.

His eyes fell to the newly arrived guest, glancing her up and down. It looked like she was here for business, albeit it being quite the bold choice of an outfit for it. At least considering the part of Gaia she was in. “Hi.” A welcoming smile found its way to his expression. The American accent unmistakable. “Welcome to Alexis Capri. How are you tonight?” he said politely as he approached the other side of the reception. “Yes, what's your name?” he replied to her request, gaining access to their booking system on the computer to check her in. “Please fill out this form,” he then instructed as he handed her a document and a pen for her to write her contact information and signature. He glanced discreetly to the bag she'd placed on the wooden surface. He had gotten a sense of the substance inside of it, however, it was fairly common for people to deal with that here. And he was completely fine with that. So long as they paid him a share for doing so. After all, it did put his business at risk for such illegality to be conducted under his roof. “It'll be eighty pounds combined for the room and your business here.” He glanced at the bag more apparently to hint that he'd sensed the drugs. After many years in the business, he'd gotten a strong sense of that scent. And the amount of it revealed that it wasn't just for her own use. He looked into her eyes. There was something them that intrigued him. Something about her that he wanted to learn more about. And regardless, he always had an interest in getting to know drug dealers and gang members. Anyone connected to a criminal organization. He parted his lips, the words lingering on his tongue for a few seconds, before he spoke: “Would you like to grab a drink with me?” He sure could need the company, and if she hadn't any plans except staying in her room, he didn't see why she wouldn't accept.

“Good,” he replied curtly to her question as he started checking her into the system. He hadn’t heard of anyone in the industry with the name of May Brown, but she looked to be rather young, so it didn't surprise him. She could’ve just ended up in it recently. He reached his hand forward to pick up the form, briefly scanning it for information to ensure that she’d not left anything out before he placed it inside a folder in a drawer. He then returned to the counter to retrieve the money, satisfied to see that she obliged to the higher price. He’d occasionally had dealers who weren’t willing to cooperate regarding that, but you wouldn't see him sway from it. If they didn’t want to pay the additional price, they’d just have to find somewhere else to deal. However, most preferred the motel, knowing that it was far more discreet than a public parking lot or street corner.

His smile widened as she asked if it was on the house. “It is,” he affirmed before he went to retrieve her key, placing it on the countertop. Room 122. Next to room 121 where a man had committed suicide back in the ’70s, however, he was one of the more harmless ghosts that had stayed. At most he’d probably just fiddle with her light fixtures or any other electronics. “I’ll be waiting in the lounge.” He had noted how she’d grabbed her bag, seeming as if she’d wanted to get rid of that first. He understood that considering its contents, and regardless, he wasn't in any rush. He genuinely just wanted to get to know her more. His gaze moved towards a set of double doors down a small hallway from the lobby. He usually had the lounge closed in the winter months when there were too few guests for it to be profitable. And even now it’d be empty as he’d decided to keep it closed. Something that might change down the line if he renovated the motel. But so far, he preferred the dilapidated state since it kept most people away from it. Especially people who were on the right side of the law. “What’s your drink?” he asked as he returned his eyes to her. And once she’d answered, he stepped away from the reception to enter the lounge. He turned on the light, the chandeliers giving it a warm atmosphere, shining down the round tables and velvet chairs. But it was clear to tell that it needed work. The tapestry was scratched and broken off in some spots, and there was a visible crack on the wooden stage that divided part of it in two. He walked behind the bar, finding a bottle of his own brand of rum that he poured into a glass before he made the drink she’d requested.

He took a sip of his drink before he turned to look at the glass bottles and their colorful labels on the wall. She wanted him to surprise her. He thought it almost a sign to let her taste something unique. His gaze moved to the corner of the lounge where a locked storage room was. He didn’t have many bottles left - not since the whole production was abruptly stopped. But he still had all the knowledge to presume it later, so taking half an ounce now would hardly hurt in the bigger picture. And this meeting felt important. At least, he had a good feeling that wasn't the last time they saw each other. So, he placed his glass on the counter to fetch one of the rum bottles behind the locked door. The label was his own. It was a business he’d started when he’d inherited the sugar cane plantation in the 1800s. Shortly thereafter he'd met with a Cuban drug-lord who had a talent for chemistry. This meeting later resulted in a collaboration to create a sin-inducing drug that could be infused in liquor. Together they’d planned to sell and distribute the drug across the globe. They’d already tested it with great success in the few casinos and hotels that the drug-lord owned. Increasing the drinker’s greed and lust had proven to give higher profits. He poured the golden liquid into a tall glass. It looked and tasted like regular rum. It wasn’t meant to be taking in large doses, but rather as an enhancer to the existing effect of alcohol. He placed the bottle on the shelf before he added crème de cacao, simple syrup, lime juice, and ginger beer to her drink.

He raised his gaze the moment the door to the lounge opened. He pushed her cocktail slightly forward before he made it around the counter to sit on the barstool next to her. “I’m glad you think so,” he said, raising the glass to his lips to take a sip of his liquor. His gaze wandered to the empty tables at her question. “Since 2005,” he replied. “But I won't remain the manager for long,” he added. It took too much of his time. And although the title let him closer to the possibilities the motel granted, it was but temporary. He couldn't very well capture all his victims here. Some were starting to catch on. Especially since two of his victims had escaped alive. “Who are you working for?” he asked. Southside harbored a lot of drug dealers and gangs, after all. But it wasn't all he considered himself close with. He himself dealt drugs through the organization in New York, so there was bound to be some hostility to a few locals because of that.

“I’m leaving town for a few months,” he replied promptly as if it had always been the plan. The truth was more complicated than so, but he couldn’t exactly reveal that he, after all these years, had made a mistake. That he despite his wishes and careful planning had gotten in trouble with higher powers. And perhaps he would return, once something else caught their attention because something always did. But for the next few months, he had to leave. “I work for an organization that sometimes takes me out of Gaia,” he explained. He had always considered that his primary job, so it wasn’t anything new—for him to wander off in the pursuit of new prospects and deals. But it was the first time where he’d needed to leave for this long.

It was important to him. If not for his interest in her, then because he’d learned to tread carefully when it regarded people from other gangs. He briefly looked away as she mentioned the Serpents. He was at neutral grounds with them, but that included him staying away from their members businesswise. Not attempting to recruit or overtake their trades. So, he just nodded and took a sip of his drink, savoring the warm notes on his tongue. He didn’t get many Serpents visiting the motel. The rumors of the place rested like a heavy curtain across town. However, if you were friends with people on his side or were part of certain communities, there was no need to hesitate. He rarely ever harmed locals of that sort.
His lips curled as she said she was her own boss. He liked that. It wasn’t many in her field who viewed it that way. Some were forced into it, driven by desperation or tragedy, while others simply followed the family tradition. But if anything, it told him that she was ambitious. And that was a trait he strongly resonated with. “What made you get into the trade?” he asked, wondering what her story was. He wasn’t the least judgmental as regards to it. His own background hadn’t exactly spoken to a legal and honest career. Nor did his parents care for what he did so long as he was successful. But he found that people often had a unique reason for choosing this kind of life.
“Anyway, I want you to know that you’ll always be able to deal here for an additional fee, rest assured that the cops will stay away.” He gestured his glass towards the double doors. No cops had ever raided the establishment while he’d owned it. He’d always managed to drive them away or made them believe a murder unquestionably was a suicide. And if there ever were any protective illusions, it was with that purpose in mind. Even when he'd be gone, he'd make sure to leave a few. Besides that, he had a well-trained staff who he was confident would take good care of the place in his absence.