Neil Knight Private Dick

Pandora Boxx

The Santa Ana City Council met the first Tuesday of each month at 6 pm at 20 Civic Center Plaza. Carlos Santino Campana had made a habit of walking the one and a half miles to each meeting ever since he had been elected to the Council in 2012. For most people the trek would take no more than half an hour, but Carlos always left himself fifty minutes in case he was stopped by a resident of the city who wanted to ask for a favor or perhaps engage him in a short conversation about an issue.

It was his chance to show that he was a man of the people, which had been documented numerous times in the Orange County Register by the Entertainment and Features Reporter Michelle Mills. He had intended on walking the route only once, when his office had contacted her after his election, so she could write a puff piece and perform a photo shoot.

But no. She had been so taken with the idea that she would often show up unannounced along the route to shout a hello or to introduce a colleague. Of course, she would find a way to include the interaction in a story she would post the following week. The one time he had ubered the trip, the ONE time, it was viewed as a scandal with published concerns about his health and questions about whether he was turning his back on the common man.

Ah the free press.

So he continued to walk the route. Never mind the bunions on his flat feet, his shorts migrating upward into his ass crack, the river of sweat navigating the fat folds on his torso or the hammering of his heart as it struggled to propel him forward, forcing him to modulate his pace to forestall possibly blowing out an artery in his brain and bringing on a full stroke.

Fuckin' Michelle Mills. Maybe he could use his influence at the paper to get her reassigned.

On the plus side, the section of North Broadway that lay between his home and Civic Center Plaza was mostly commercial, greatly reducing the chances of having to speak with anyone at all, which was really his preference.

This Tuesday night, the first of March in the year of his re-election, he was greatly anticipating the possibility of becoming the Mayor Pro Tem, as tonight was the nomination and selection process. He exited his home that evening at 5:15 on the nose, with a little extra spring in his step.

He was greeted at the door with these words.

"Once a Loper always a Loper'"

His head snapped to his left at the sound of the disembodied voice.

Frankie Hopeless grinned.

"Good evening Councilman" he said. "Mr. Fuentes has graciously offered to drive you to your meeting so you and he might have a chat."

Carlos nodded, and followed the street soldier down the front walkway to the Escalade waiting on the street. Frankie opened the rear passenger door and waved him to enter. Carlos grasped the center pillar of the SUV, strained to lift his leg onto the rocker panel and hoisted himself into the vehicle as the auto dipped in his direction.

"Consider a salad" said Frankie as he closed the door.

Frankie hopped in the car and the SUV pulled away from the curb.

"Carlos, ¿cómo has sido mi amigo?" Vinnie asked.

"Muy bien. Nunca olvido mis lealtades" replied Carlos. In fact, he had continued to communicate from time to time with the leader of the Lopers, ever since returning to the city after college, passing along information that he thought might be of value, although never exposing himself to personal or professional risk in the process.

"Tonight is a big night for you, no?" said Vinnie, easily shifting to English.

"I believe it will be, but there is always a possibility I might not win."

"How would you like to have 100% assurance of becoming the next in line to the mayor of this fine city should something happen to El Baleen?"

Carlos's thoughts went into high gear, considering as many aspects and possibilities as possible.

He turned to Vinnie Fuentes and smiled.

"100% son muy buenas probabilidades."

"Consider it done then, my friend. Now let's talk about the possibilities for a partnership that will benefit us both."

He checked his watch.

"We've got a little time" noted the gang leader. He instructed the driver to head to Dante's Coffee & Tea on Santa Ana Boulevard.

"It's on the way" Vinnie noted. "I'll treat us all to a double shot mocha and a scone, yes?"

"You like scones, don't you Mayor Campana?" he laughed and patted the councilman's belly.

And then his face turned deadly serious.

"These are my terms."

Michelle Mills had been a staff writer for the Los Angeles News Group since 1998. She'd graduated from Syracuse University in New York State in 1986, and had subsequently moved west to find her fortune, which remained somewhat elusive. But she'd latched on to Carlos Campana early on in his career and had used her affinity for him to report on his rise from a child of the streets to a pillar of local government, ensuring her own job security along the way. Her dedication to the councilman hadn't gone unnoticed by Vinnie Fuentes, who had pulled some strings from time to time, and had played a role in ensuring that no other reporter was on hand for the council's event that evening.

Her article was subsequently the only report carried in the Orange County Register, San Bernadino Sun, East Bay Times, Whittier Daily News, and other notable news publications.

'From the Streets of Santa Ana to the City's Top Banana' screamed her headline. Sub headed as 'The Ascension of Carlos Santino Campana', the report exposed how a child of the streets had risen above all odds to become the Mayor Pro Tem on the City Council. The vote had been 6-0 in favor of the councilman.

Although the Mayor assigns committees to the council that focus on specific municipal issues, like sanitation, real estate zoning or drug policy, Carlos had free reign to oversee these committees, and direct certain councilmembers to become involved in each.

At nine o'clock the meeting concluded, having assigned himself and others to head certain oversight committees and city initiatives, Carlos called the meeting to a conclusion.

He smiled to himself.

Now all he had to do was wait.

The energy he felt. The power. He needed to celebrate.

Maybe he should uber it over to the Velvet Lounge on 4th Street. If he remembered correctly the nightclub was running a special show tonight; Lipstick and Lashes headlining Pandora Boxx from RuPaul's Drag Race All-Stars.

Oh my yes.

It was going to be a great night.