White Collar Fic: The Fresco Kid (1/5)
See here for Master Post
"What the hell is wrong with you?!"
Neal glanced around, a calming smile on his lips, checking whether the outburst had caught anybody's attention. "Would you keep it down, Moz?"
Moz huffed and reached for his wine glass.
The two were dining at the Rainbow Room, an elegant restaurant where loosing one's cool was frowned upon. A few people had turned to look in their direction, but by now had returned to their food and chatter.
Neal turned his full attention back to his friend and partner in crime. "It's too risky."
"Risky?" Mozzie looked befuddled.
Despite his frustration, Neal kept his voice down. "She's the wife of the Police Commissioner!"
"Ex-wife," Mozzie corrected.
"Whatever."
"You've broken into the FBI headquarters before. Come on, this should be a cinch."
"That was different. It was in-and-out. You're talking about a long con."
Besides, Neal thought to himself, Mozzie had ambushed him. Just for that he deserved to be turned down.
Mozzie had oh-so-innocently suggested they go out to celebrate, and 'forgot' to mention it was all part of his next planned job.
"Celebrate what?" Neal had asked. "Estelle's birthday?"
"Maybe," Mozzie had answered with his enigmatic smile.
That should have already set alarm bells ringing. Neal should have been even more suspicious when Mozzie suggested the Rainbow Room, of all places, and had even shown up wearing a suit and bow-tie. But, no. He stepped right into it, completely unaware.
Their proposed mark was sitting several tables down. Eva Molloy - the freshly divorced wife of NYPD's Police Commissioner. She was young, much younger than her now former husband, and she was dressed to show it.
Mozzie had heard rumors that Eva had damning information about the Commissioner. Damning enough to be worth millions in the divorce settlement. He had concocted a plan to get Neal to strike up a relationship in order to find out what she had on her ex, but now, an unexpected snag, his prodigy had gotten cold feet. Of course, if he were completely honest, he had to admit that it might have helped things if he had warmed to the subject, instead of just plopping it down on Neal in the middle of dinner, but it was too late to do anything about that now.
"Do you know how much that information could be worth?" Mozzie continued.
Neal sighed.
Mozzie now turned self-righteous. "If I was a tax-paying New Yorker, I would want to know what skeletons were hiding in my Police Commissioner's closet."
"I am a tax-paying New Yorker," Neal ignored Mozzie's derisive snort, "and believe me, I don't want to know."
"Don't you want to know how a civil servant had millions to pay off his ex-wife?"
Truth was, it did sound intriguing.
Neal's gaze wandered over to Eva. She was sitting together with a few girlfriends, their heads almost touching as they leaned close to view something on one of their phones. There was a buzz of excitement and then they broke away with a wave of laughter. It was all... so innocent, so real. Neal wasn't sure he wanted to ruin it all.
Just then she raised her eyes and caught him staring at her. For a millisecond, they held each other's gaze. And then she smiled, and turned back to her girlfriends. A second later, they all turned to give him a quick once-over.
"I think I've been made," Neal said quietly.
"Good, good!" Mozzie twisted in his seat to take a look, thereby ensuring that the other table would get a message of return interest. A wave of giggles let him know that the message had been received.
"Moz!" Neal hissed. He had no doubt that Mozzie had done it on purpose.
"Okay," Moz said, turning back, excitedly outlining the rest of the plan. "You've got her attention now. Don't rush it. She's sponsoring an art show downtown in a couple of days, so you can-"
"Moz!" This time Neal got his friend's attention.
"What?"
Neal put down his fork. "Look, it doesn't matter, okay? I'm telling you, it's too risky."
"Every job is risky." Mozzie answered back. "What is going on with you?"
Neal frowned. "What do you mean?"
"You've been loafing around for months."
"I wouldn't say 'loafing'," Neal responded.
"Really? What would you call it?"
"I just-" Neal bit off his sentence, quite aware that he didn't have much of an answer. "You want me to punch a card?"
Mozzie made a show of rolling his eyes. "You've been turning down perfectly good jobs. It's okay if you're afraid, I'm just worried-"
Neal's eyes blazed. "I'm careful," he stressed. "I spent four years in a supermax, Moz. Four years! I'm not going to do that again."
"I understand that."
"Do you?" Neal looked at the opulence around him, and shook his head. Sometimes his four year stint in Sing Sing seemed like a bad dream. And sometimes he woke up in the middle of the night, nightmares reminding him that his time there had been all too real. It was easy for Moz to speak - he always kept in the background. The FBI didn't even know he existed.
Mozzie was on a roll, though, his ranting breaking through to Neal's thoughts. "-This job's too risky, that job's not paying enough, that one's too boring. Did the Suit get to you?"
"The Suit?" What did the FBI have to do with this?
"You know who I mean."
"Peter?"
Moz exhaled sharply. "Yes. 'Peter'. He keeps on popping by, having those little chats, dripping his Federal poison into unsuspecting minds-"
Now it was Neal's turn to roll his eyes. Mozzie saw government intervention in everything, with a big heaping dose of conspiracy. "Okay, Moz-"
"-it's mind-control, you'd be surprised what the government can do nowadays."
"Look, I admit I enjoy talking to him. So what?"
"So what?! One day you'll wake up with a house in the suburbs, a family car in the driveway and job that leeches your soul, that's what."
"Moz, that's not gonna happen, okay? The last jobs... it was just a coincidence."
Neal could see Mozzie wasn't mollified by his protestations. He sighed. "You said she's sponsoring an art show?"
Mozzie smiled.
Next Chapter
"What the hell is wrong with you?!"
Neal glanced around, a calming smile on his lips, checking whether the outburst had caught anybody's attention. "Would you keep it down, Moz?"
Moz huffed and reached for his wine glass.
The two were dining at the Rainbow Room, an elegant restaurant where loosing one's cool was frowned upon. A few people had turned to look in their direction, but by now had returned to their food and chatter.
Neal turned his full attention back to his friend and partner in crime. "It's too risky."
"Risky?" Mozzie looked befuddled.
Despite his frustration, Neal kept his voice down. "She's the wife of the Police Commissioner!"
"Ex-wife," Mozzie corrected.
"Whatever."
"You've broken into the FBI headquarters before. Come on, this should be a cinch."
"That was different. It was in-and-out. You're talking about a long con."
Besides, Neal thought to himself, Mozzie had ambushed him. Just for that he deserved to be turned down.
Mozzie had oh-so-innocently suggested they go out to celebrate, and 'forgot' to mention it was all part of his next planned job.
"Celebrate what?" Neal had asked. "Estelle's birthday?"
"Maybe," Mozzie had answered with his enigmatic smile.
That should have already set alarm bells ringing. Neal should have been even more suspicious when Mozzie suggested the Rainbow Room, of all places, and had even shown up wearing a suit and bow-tie. But, no. He stepped right into it, completely unaware.
Their proposed mark was sitting several tables down. Eva Molloy - the freshly divorced wife of NYPD's Police Commissioner. She was young, much younger than her now former husband, and she was dressed to show it.
Mozzie had heard rumors that Eva had damning information about the Commissioner. Damning enough to be worth millions in the divorce settlement. He had concocted a plan to get Neal to strike up a relationship in order to find out what she had on her ex, but now, an unexpected snag, his prodigy had gotten cold feet. Of course, if he were completely honest, he had to admit that it might have helped things if he had warmed to the subject, instead of just plopping it down on Neal in the middle of dinner, but it was too late to do anything about that now.
"Do you know how much that information could be worth?" Mozzie continued.
Neal sighed.
Mozzie now turned self-righteous. "If I was a tax-paying New Yorker, I would want to know what skeletons were hiding in my Police Commissioner's closet."
"I am a tax-paying New Yorker," Neal ignored Mozzie's derisive snort, "and believe me, I don't want to know."
"Don't you want to know how a civil servant had millions to pay off his ex-wife?"
Truth was, it did sound intriguing.
Neal's gaze wandered over to Eva. She was sitting together with a few girlfriends, their heads almost touching as they leaned close to view something on one of their phones. There was a buzz of excitement and then they broke away with a wave of laughter. It was all... so innocent, so real. Neal wasn't sure he wanted to ruin it all.
Just then she raised her eyes and caught him staring at her. For a millisecond, they held each other's gaze. And then she smiled, and turned back to her girlfriends. A second later, they all turned to give him a quick once-over.
"I think I've been made," Neal said quietly.
"Good, good!" Mozzie twisted in his seat to take a look, thereby ensuring that the other table would get a message of return interest. A wave of giggles let him know that the message had been received.
"Moz!" Neal hissed. He had no doubt that Mozzie had done it on purpose.
"Okay," Moz said, turning back, excitedly outlining the rest of the plan. "You've got her attention now. Don't rush it. She's sponsoring an art show downtown in a couple of days, so you can-"
"Moz!" This time Neal got his friend's attention.
"What?"
Neal put down his fork. "Look, it doesn't matter, okay? I'm telling you, it's too risky."
"Every job is risky." Mozzie answered back. "What is going on with you?"
Neal frowned. "What do you mean?"
"You've been loafing around for months."
"I wouldn't say 'loafing'," Neal responded.
"Really? What would you call it?"
"I just-" Neal bit off his sentence, quite aware that he didn't have much of an answer. "You want me to punch a card?"
Mozzie made a show of rolling his eyes. "You've been turning down perfectly good jobs. It's okay if you're afraid, I'm just worried-"
Neal's eyes blazed. "I'm careful," he stressed. "I spent four years in a supermax, Moz. Four years! I'm not going to do that again."
"I understand that."
"Do you?" Neal looked at the opulence around him, and shook his head. Sometimes his four year stint in Sing Sing seemed like a bad dream. And sometimes he woke up in the middle of the night, nightmares reminding him that his time there had been all too real. It was easy for Moz to speak - he always kept in the background. The FBI didn't even know he existed.
Mozzie was on a roll, though, his ranting breaking through to Neal's thoughts. "-This job's too risky, that job's not paying enough, that one's too boring. Did the Suit get to you?"
"The Suit?" What did the FBI have to do with this?
"You know who I mean."
"Peter?"
Moz exhaled sharply. "Yes. 'Peter'. He keeps on popping by, having those little chats, dripping his Federal poison into unsuspecting minds-"
Now it was Neal's turn to roll his eyes. Mozzie saw government intervention in everything, with a big heaping dose of conspiracy. "Okay, Moz-"
"-it's mind-control, you'd be surprised what the government can do nowadays."
"Look, I admit I enjoy talking to him. So what?"
"So what?! One day you'll wake up with a house in the suburbs, a family car in the driveway and job that leeches your soul, that's what."
"Moz, that's not gonna happen, okay? The last jobs... it was just a coincidence."
Neal could see Mozzie wasn't mollified by his protestations. He sighed. "You said she's sponsoring an art show?"
Mozzie smiled.
Next Chapter