#diego01

where: driftwood coffee shop

Noelle stopped by Driftwood nearly every day to get a coffee. She loved talking to the baristas and she always made sure to leave a nice tip. She'd just ordered her own latte when she spotted Detective Martinez. "Oh, hi! Can I buy you a coffee?" She offered with a smile.

“Elizabeth! Where the hell are you? Why aren’t you answering my texts or calls?!” Cecilia stood under the awning of a dilapidated building, practically yelling into her phone at Elizabeth’s voicemail. “Look, I’m outside his office and I’m going in there and you better be right behind that door when I go in! I don’t wanna feel awkward standing there like, oh! --” her purse fell off her shoulder and onto the grimy tiled floor after having been bumped into. Really, really nice. The people here were as rude as the building was crumbling. She hated New York. She hated the city, any city, in general and much preferred hills and trees and a big open sky and flowers and nothing but the sound of birds, not the headache of car horns and people shouting at each other and apparently bumping into each other without even a single look of remorse, at least. 

“Jeez! Some guy just slammed into me and didn’t even look back, what the hell! Anyway, I don’t want to look awkward just standing there like an idiot in front of this guy for something I think is so stupid. - her heels clanked against the stone stairs as she made her way up - I told you I could just follow him myself. I mean, that’s what this guy is gonna do anyway. Except he’s gonna charge you for it. I know you and Tommy are like, made of money, but why waste it on a detective for something you can just do yourself, I mean, what a waste of money and time -- god, this place doesn’t have an elevator??” She heaved a sigh, finally reaching a frosted window door with the words Diego Lombard; Private Investigator; 508 etched across it.

“Okay,” she whispered breathlessly into the phone, “I’m right outside his door, you be -” a beeping sound rang through the speaker and looking exasperated, Cecilia pulled the phone away from her ear, glaring hard at the black screen before stuffing it into the pocket of her pencil skirt (thank god they made them with pockets now - a woman’s life was hard enough as it was). “508…” she muttered, finding it unnecessary that his office was five floors up. Five! And the building didn’t have an elevator. She sighed, knocked once, then made her way in slowly. “Hello? Detective Lombard? I’m Cecilia. I’m with Elizabeth, here for the meeting about her husband…”

With a frustrated groan, Eliza gracelessly collapsed onto the grass beside her new cherry red moped. She'd only been 10 minutes from home when the moped had released a demonic groan and spluttered to a stop in the middle of the road. It wasn't a surprising turn of events, considering she had just purchased the thing based solely on how cute it was. She'd also naively chosen to trust the seller's word that it was 'running with no issue at all' before proceeding to drive it back to town without confirming the now clearly false claim. She barely looked up when a car idled to a stop beside her. "Don't worry, I'm not dead," she called out from her position on the ground, waving away the stranger's concern. "Just contemplating my poor life choices."

where: outside of the reef bar

Wes was really trying to cut back on smoking but he was also certain James Levin was trying to kill him with all the extra hours he was making him work. Sure, one could say it was probably because James knew Wes was going to be a father in a few months and he was trying to help him save money, but it really felt like James just liked to watch Wes suffer.

Wes had stopped by the Reef to have a few drinks before heading home, and after trying his best to refrain from stepping out to have a smoke, he couldn't help it and just finally gave in. But Wes had just put a cigarette between his lips when he realized he didn't have a lighter on him.

"Shit." Wes hissed then looked up to see a man and he figured it couldn't hurt to ask. "Hey, you got a lighter on you?" And it was after he'd asked his question that he realized just who he was talking to. Not only was it the man who caught him tagging in town, it was the same man who thought he was trying to break into the Levins home.

"Oh, shit. It's you."

Nate and Diego had both missed practices in the past couple days, thanks to the cops pulling them in for further questioning. There were very few things Nate would be okay being grouped in with Diego - actually it may be zero things. Either way, this definitely wasn’t one of them. Since they had missed a practice, their coach had made them stay after late that morning, swimming extra laps to make up for it. After their extra practice, both boys retreated to the locker room, silence between them rather than the normal raucous laughter that filled the place at the end of a practice. Nate had his back to Diego, not bothering to converse or even look towards him, drying himself off in a sullen silence. When he turned back around, he saw Diego’s eyes flash towards him, a sneer briefly coming over Nate’s face. “What?” he said, already having distaste for the captain of the team - his irritation was just heightened with having been called back to speak to the officers.