Job

Hope still reflected on the words that were released by his boss, totally intrigued by what she had heard, squeezing the leaves she had just received in his hands and analyzed the proposal. She didn't know if it was a good thing or a bad thing, but it was definitely an opportunity. Yet, I wasn't able to tell your confused feelings. But it was a good chance. Or not.

How would you explain that you were unsure about this to your boss?

“You're telling me that… that Castiel Reed is open to interviews?” Hope asked himself to struggle to make his voice come out without noise.

“Yes, I’m sorry. And that's perfect, we'll be the first to have an interview directly with him” Armin said with a smile that grew more and more “You've always been very good with questions and especially know how to improvise, I know you'll do well. I'm with you, Hope.”

How would get away with it? There was no denying anything like that, they were counting on her.

From a young time, Hope was accustomed to being called and treated like an angel, a good example, a well-educated and intelligent girl. Even as a teenager, Hope didn't go off the rails, always respecting his parents, no boyfriends and drinks. Drugs? Never mind.

She's spent life like this. Never raised his voice to anyone, not even in arguments, was always very controlled, never let loose at any time. She has never done anything you think is wrong. She was always right, the one loved by the teachers, the one who had her head caressed by everyone.

A good girl…

Hope considered himself a good girl, always walking the line and trying to please all people, even if it was tiring and sometimes impossible. They had no reason to complain about her, let alone say bad things about his job performance and work.

Too great for others.

At most came in the desire to say something in the next of the rude to some people, but never something bad. I hope she has sense and stops walking slowly in front of me.

It's no big deal. Too nice.

“You can leave, Armin; I'll do my best.” And he smiled slightly, walking away to study the life of the recently imprisoned criminal.

She already knew a lot about Castiel Reed's life, because as a good journalist, she was always attentive to interviews and newspapers. He was a very famous drug trafficker, besides being the leader of the most powerful mafia in the country, he was rich, complete millionaires with the crimes he committed.

And how he was caught was still a mystery. Nothing has been disclosed by the police, and even with questions say it is something super-secret. How did someone in his position end up behind bars? She remembered to write it down in the question binder, but she wasn't sure she'd feel comfortable interrogating him that way. It was amazing that he was so young and running an empire like that. Was it passed down from generation to generation? – noted that question as well.

Night, 9:30, and there was the girl having tea and looking at Castiel’s pictures on the internet. He was audacious, posted photos in incredible places, showing riches and more riches.

“Louvre Museum... Um?” drank more tea, crossing his legs, “France...”

She passed a few more photos and found a somewhat flashy one, where Castiel was sitting in an armchair in front of a mirror where he took the photo by the reflection, on his side a large black Pitbull, one of his legs was on one of the arms of the seat, was a shirtless and displayed his numerous tattoos scattered throughout his abdomen worked with muscles.

He spent a few more hours and finally thought it was good, went to his sister's room checking the silence caused by the headphones while reading a book, signaled with his arms to get the young woman's attention.

“Hey, there's still two slices of pizza yesterday in the fridge... want one?” said as soon as the fourteen-year-old girl removed her headphones.

“Yes, I do!” Julie got up and accompanied her sister to the kitchen. “Worked late today” the girl noted “something important?”

“Yes, I’m sorry. It might raise my salary and change our lives, no big deal,” Hope said jokingly with a slightly disheartened smile. Not that her were afraid of the subject, in any way, it was just an insistent nervousness that did not pass.

Wouldn't tell the girl I'd be interviewing a criminal for reasons of secrecy, and because I didn't want to see her sister worried about talking to a drug dealer.

The other day, during the night, Hope decided to get better, although he would not appear in the filming, but wanted to make a good impression. Without so many formalities, he put on a light pair of jeans and a social shirt, something he did not like very much to pass an air of seriousness and did not match his personality.

She was going to take out the piercing above her ear, but he forgot., leaving the house to go to the corner restaurant, not remembering that he had something stuck in his ear. She left his sister at a friend's house to study and said he would look for her right after the interview was over, which she said wouldn't take more than an hour.

The journalist reread the questions again and found them convincing for the article. She took the glass of juice he drank to the prison, handing it to the officer. He went through an intense and careful review, feeling his body being felt from all sides and his work material revised.

They almost open the tape recorder to see if there's anything that could help an escape from the criminal. Hope was completely willing to do everything the police wanted, answering everything, and letting them search everywhere.

Suddenly was anxious to meet that dangerous man.

She was cleared to pass then relaxed, walking on the side of a police officer into the room where her could talk to Castiel. He was not in a maximum-security jail, but Hope felt he was going against the greatest killer of all time. A serial killer.

He's just a giant drug dealer in the illegal market; Hope thought.

“You're the fifth journalist to come to me in those three days” Castiel commented as soon as he saw Hope enter the room where he was.

There was only one lamp in the center of the room, a small table, two chairs, four cameras. They were being watched the whole time. It was safe.

“You are our center of attention at this moment” Hope replied with height, smiling gently. She was being nice to a criminal.

The journalist sat at the table and turned on the recorder, placing it on the table, and opened the folder with her questions. She looked up to Castiel, going face-to-face with a quiet and even somewhat cynical countenance. He had his wrists on the table in handcuffs and… Hope thought it was weird to think it might be an accessory that looks great in it him.

“Well, foremost, good night. My name is Hope Carter.” It's polite.

The criminal smiled sideways, looking at Hope.

“Good night…”

Voice too dragged, too intense, too thick, too vibrant… Hope got chilled. She took the pen and scratched the first question, indicating that her would use it. The criminal went down his eyes to Carter's hand, raised his eyes again when he felt he would ask the question.

“Aren't you nervous?” he had to ask, licking his lower lip.

“Why would I be?” The voice sat still, peaceful, and even cute.

Castiel smirked again, sliding off his chair. Hope didn't see it, but he made sure he spread his legs, looking teasingly into his eyes. Hope blinked and looked down at the papers in his hand, coming back to the right thought.

“We know you've been in charge of this mafia for six years and now, at thirty-two, you've been caught. Do you think your current situation is part of a specific mistake?” Hope asked in perfect diction, looking at Castiel carefully.

“I wouldn't say a mistake.” Castiel looked into Hope's eyes and didn't blink. The journalist tried to stay natural, but her spine was cold and didn't warm up at all. “It involves a … revenge.” Castiel looked away, chuckling lightly. “You are lucky, you know?”

“Lucky me?”

“You came in when I'm in the mood” Strangely enough, this was not an answer that convinced Hope.