𝗔𝗰𝗾𝘂𝗮𝗶𝗻𝘁𝗮𝗻𝗰𝗲𝘀

Twelve.

Rebecca Caruso

My throat tightened as I fought to regain composure, coughing up incredulity in response to Raphael's audacious proposal.

"Just hear me out for a sec before you say anything..." He took my sudden impairment to speak as a brief benefit. "You'll just have to casually hang out with Marco for a few weeks, being nothing more than a pair of ears."

My older brother persisted in stressing his subjective adverbs, a persuasive public relations technique we inherited from our dear father, redirecting attention from the evidence.

"Then you'll just meet your dear brother at the Golden Nugget on Fridays to share some tea and an evening short-stack," he noted swiftly.  "There's no need to interact with the big fish,  get involved with the family, or get caught up with anything illegal. A simple in, a simple out. That's it."

Clearly, he had forgotten I learned the same techniques as well.

"That's it, huh?" I felt a mix of bewilderment and anger at his audacious suggestion. How could he even propose such a thing?

Using his own sister as bait; that's such a stereotypical ass-hole Fed move, I thought.

"Are you fucking insane, Rafe!?" I exclaimed, sitting upright and finally catching my breath. "I mean... Christ, where do I even begin?"

"By not hanging up on me..." He gently pleaded.

"Fine," my irritation and outrage must have somehow radiated through the mobile cell signal.

I paused for a millisecond, toning down the impulsive rage within my speech. However, I still felt the scalding heat of fury internally. "First off, my answer's clearly, no. No matter how you try to spin it, it's a fucking suicide mission. There's no way in hell this is anything but simp—."

"It's straightforward because you're just spending time with a guy you've hung out with before," he quickly injected, as if that were the answer to everything.

"No." I let out a long, exasperated breath, desperately craving a gust of fresh air to cool down my boiling anger. "I understand what you're trying to imply, Marco and I did have a few drinks together at the bar. He even offered to give me a ride home, which explains the photo I sent you. But that never happened, so there's nothing more to it."

The buzz of incoherent chatter from the press event signaled its imminent conclusion. With Robert and Christopher diligently addressing a few final questions, I needed to wrap up this conversation with Raphael swiftly, before the prying eyes of the media fixated on my presence.

First and foremost, I had to correct Raphael's misguided assumption, whatever it may be. "We were literally sulking drunks reminiscing on poor relationships. Besides, isn't there a whole division within the FBI that handles this sort of thing? You guys investigate, don't you?"

"Paperwork, that's the reason," he grumbled irritably. "We have a rare and golden opportunity here, Becca. Unnecessary drama is the last thing we need when dealing with any kind of informant."

"You're asking me to put my life in literal fucking danger, here."

"It's not as bad as you think." He scoffed.

"Not as bad?" I retorted as I got out of the car. "Rafe, see that container filled with bones and shit they're talking about on TV? That's mercy, pure mercy. These people will literally incinerate my body if they find out I'm a rat and use my pale ashes to make damn short-stack pancakes for breakfast."

"That's... vivid."

"Have you actually thought this plan through?" Hoping that the uneasiness of his suggestion finally kicked in, I continued with my rebuttal while pacing around Christopher's patrol car. "'Cause on top of not getting caught by crazy, trigger-happy mobsters, there's also the notion of A) my job, B) Chris, and C) Robert."

He chuckled, his casual demeanor sending shivers down my spine. "Becca, it's my literal job to think things through," he reassured me, though his nonchalant tone only heightened my unease. "You've got, what, four months left of your suspension? Your reputation as an officer will remain intact. You won't face any professional repercussions for engaging in normal civilian activities or spending time with Marco. I promise."

"As for Chico," he continued, as I took a moment to sit on the hood of the car, "since it'll only be for a few weeks, I was thinking that you would tell him that you got tickets to visit me in Quantico. I know for a fact his ass would stay quiet, Robert will do the same."

I wasn't expecting that.

"What Chico and Robert did to me was far worse," he added, his voice dripping with bitterness. "Trust me, a little white lie ain't nothing compared to their betrayal."

Raphael's words struck a chord deep within me, awakening memories I had tried to bury. While the specifics had faded with time, the essence of what had happened still haunted me. When Raphael bravely revealed his sexual orientation, coming out as gay, his so-called best friend and our own father callously turned their backs on him, leaving him abandoned and alone.

And now, here I was, residing just across the street from that very same best friend, while our father lived comfortably in his nearby home. The irony of it all gnawed at me, but that was a conversation for another day, a discussion waiting to be had.

As the news crew wrapped up their coverage, I glanced up, the remnants of their presence slowly dispersing from the podium. Damn it, I needed to refocus our conversation and get back into the car swiftly.

"You're completely out of your mind, you know that, right?" I muttered as I got in, silently shutting the passenger door, hoping not to attract any attention.

"Nah, mandatory monthly mental health checks are routine at the bureau. Besides, I aced my last one effortlessly," Raphael responded, sensing my urgency and realizing the press conference had ceased broadcasting. He leaned in closer and proposed, "How about this? Meet me at the Golden Nugget tonight at eight. It'll give you enough time to mull it over."

I shot back, "There's not much to mull over. No."

Undeterred, he quipped, "Regardless, we can catch up over some delectable diner food tonight. I've missed seeing you."

Reluctantly, I conceded, "Fine, I'll admit it's because I've missed seeing you too."

"Perfect!" he exclaimed with contagious excitement, acting as if I had already agreed. "Bye, sis."

The car fell into a hushed silence as soon as my brother ended the call. I sat there, caught between rejuvenation and confusion, feeling a surge of guilt wash over me. I closed my eyes, sinking back into the seat, my head throbbing with the weight of this senseless situation. I longed for a Tylenol like never before.

Suddenly, a knock snapped me out of my thoughts as someone tapped on the car window...