Miami Vice

Chapter 2

I don't care, I don't care, I don't care
I don't care, I don't care, care if it's old
I don't mind, I don't mind, I don't mind
I don't mind, mind, don't have a mind
Get away, get away, get away
Get away, away, away from your home
I'm afraid, I'm afraid, I'm afraid
I'm afraid, afraid, ghost

Each punch was cathartic.

Even if you have, even if you need

Knuckle to the nose.

I don't mean to stare, we don't have to breed

Fist to the abdomen.

We could plant a house, we could build a tree

Punch to the chest.

I don't even care, we could have all three

Kick to the head.

Tom to really had to endure a lot this morning. Camila was angry this morning.

She woke before her alarm clock and couldn't fall back to sleep. Because she hated laying in bed awake with nothing to do, she got up, went to the bathroom, peed, washed her hands and splashed her face with cold water. She really was awake now. It was 6:30 am.

She didn't have to be at work until 9 and she knew it was going to be a desk day because she had yesterday's case reports to write. She had made notes about everything important about yesterday's arrest before she left the precinct but she knew she had to write a coherent report and finish it today. The captain wanted to pass it along because the arrest had been a huge deal. They were on the guy for months and it was one of Camila's smoothest cases yet.

Everything worked out the way she wanted it to and although her team was a set of really great cops and detectives, it was her quick thinking and good instincts that lead them to find a 2nd location with convicting clues to their suspect in form of finger prints, personal items and two guard goons that couldn't keep their mouths shut.

500 pounds of cocaine were peanuts compared to what was moved through Miami ports these days but it was still 6 Million $ that the drug cartels could now wave goodbye to.

She usually went to celebrate with her colleagues at Jester's, a pub where mostly cops hung out.

It was named after the owner's grandfather, Robert Lee Jester, who was shot and killed on the job in 1933.

But that night she just wanted to relax alone with a beer, maybe fuck a girl or two and go to bed.

So she opted for a beer at Churchill's. It was also closer to her apartment in Liberty City.

It was a bad neighbourhood, sure. But she spent most of her youth there before she applied to the police academy. It was home. And it had a dreariness that Camila could relate to.

After she got a good morning workout in she went to hit the shower.

A loud cough rang through the bathroom as she turned on her bluetooth speakers connected to her phone and she pressed play.

I'm bored of cheap and cheerful

I want expensive sadness

Hospital bills, parole

Open doors to madness

Camila sang along as she turned on the water. The shower head started coughing up little sprays of water until the pressure built up finally giving her a pretty alright stream of water. And it's hot, too! Maybe it's going to be a good day after all.