As usual when I worked the night shift, I was insanely tired the next morning. It was even worse on a Monday morning when I had a ten am class, allowing me to only get approximately three hours of sleep before I had to get up for class.
My apartment was about halfway between NYU and Newark, my place of school and work, and both were nothing more than a short subway ride away but of course, I was late to class. I was never not late to work.
“Miss Turgenev,” Professor Lockhart called out upon my arrival. “Nice of you to join us, though you are more than ten minutes late. What excuse do you have for us all today?”
“It’s not an excuse when it’s nothing but the truth,” I smiled brightly at him. “I was working all night and didn’t end up getting into bed until half six. My alarm was set to go off at ten, but I must have slept through.”
“You always get me with the night shifts,” Processor Lockhart sighed and waved a dismissive hand in the air. “I don’t approve of studying have to slave away when they’re supposed to be focusing only on studies.”
“Thanks, Professor,” I grinned and moved to take my usual seat next to my friend Rizwan on the fourth row from the front.
That seat was the most ideal for me. It was in the middle portion of the class, but at the very front of the middle. I had the perfect view of the board while avoiding getting caught up in the nerdy happening of the front few rows.
If it was any other class, this would feel much like the walk of shame, but Professor Lockhart was always easy to sway. Eccentric people often were.
“Ten minutes late is pretty early for you,” Rizwan whispered with a chuckle as I slid into the seat next to him.
Rizwan and I knew each other from high school. We had a few classes together, but we didn’t run in the same circles. It was only when we got to college and realised that we were studying the same course that we started to grow closer and create a friendship group for ourselves.
“I wasn’t willing to push the boat that far out today,” I chuckled as I got out my laptop, ready to take notes. “Lockhart doesn’t look like he’s had enough of his special drink just yet,” I chuckled, referring to the non-descript water bottle that the professor was always drinking out of.
If I had to guess, it was definitely something alcoholic and not the strong coffee that he always claimed it to be when a student jokingly asked about it.
“Call me lazy, but we’re going to spend a large portion of the class watching the news this morning,” Professor Lockhart grinned. He paused to take a sip from his flask before he turned on the TV and took a seat behind his desk to watch the news along with us.
It wasn’t the first time professors had put on the news or a programme for us to watch during class, so I knew there was bound to be an assignment from whatever would play on the news this morning. Perhaps it was the lack of lesson planning or sheer laziness on their part, but I always preferred it than having to listen to them drone on and one for an hour or two.
The lights were turned off and the breaking news started on the TV.
Fabrizio Mancini’s Name Cleared as Sister of the Deceased, Natalya Huntsberg Confesses to Murdering Her Brother.
Well, this certainly sounded interesting.
It started off the with the anchor man and woman briefly explaining what we were about to see before the screen changed ad flashed to the reporter currently on scene.
“I’m currently on the steps of the New York courthouse and as you can see behind me, is the entire Mancini family to support their brother Fabrizio Mancini who has spent this last month with allegations of murder and manslaughter hanging over his head,” the reporter started off by saying, the words rushing out of her mouth as she continued glancing over her shoulder every few seconds, almost as if afraid that the Mancini’s would disappear at any moment now and this would be her big break.
And I had to agree. This very well could be. This live interview or exclusive scoop, however long or short it could be, could very well be her big break.
“They look like they’re getting ready to leave so I’m going to see if I can get a few words with them,” the reporter announced before she turned around on her heels and rushed up the steps of the courthouse toward the Mancini’s.
She covered her mike with her hand as she leaned in and whispered to the woman stood in front of them all. The woman frowned but turned to speak to the man next to her, the one with all the cameras on his face so I could only assume that this was Fabrizio Mancini, before they both nodded and turned back to the reporter.
When the reporter grinned and turned around, quick to smooth down her hair as she held her mike up and signalled to the camera man with her eyes, I knew she had successfully convinced the lawyer for a few words with her client and possibly even his family.
When the camera zoomed out to get the reporter, the lawyer and all of the Mancini’s into the shot, my eyes widened in shock at the tall man stood next to the dark-haired lawyer currently leaned over to whisper to her client, Fabrizio.
“What’s wrong?” Rizwan leaned over to whisper to me. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
“It’s something worse than a ghost,” I murmured, my eyes still focused on the familiar face of the man I had served a vanilla latte to not only six hours ago. The very same man that I believed to be the abusive fiancé that my previous customer, Nat, had been trying to flee the country from.
“Which one is the ghost?” he asked, curious.
“I’ll tell you later,” I murmured, needing to focus on the screen. Or more specifically, Massimo – who I knew to be Massimo Mancini – who looked bored out of his mind and wanted to be anywhere but there right now. Well, he did mention that he hated reporters.
“Fabrizio,” the reporter turned to him with a bright smile on her face. “How does it feel to have your name cleared?”
“Very good,” Fabrizio chuckled, sparing a brief look at his lawyer before he continued. “I’m just glad that the truth has finally come out now before it’s too late.”
“How did you feel this morning? Hopefully?”
“Honestly? No,” Fabrizio chuckled. “As much belief that I had in my lawyer, and I have immense belief in you, Tesoro,” he paused to grin at the said lawyer. “A small part of me was worried about which direction the trial would sway in.”
“I think it’s impossible not to worry in such situations,” the lawyer cut in, and the name Benedetta D’Angelo flashed on the screen. “No matter how solid the case was, what the truth is or how much time you’ve spend preparing, this whole process is all very unnerving.”
“I can imagine it is,” the reporter grinned and nodded, not really looking like she was paying attention to their actual answer. “Did you expect the truth that was revealed in court earlier this morning?”
“No,” Fabrizio denied. “Natalya never indicated such hatred for me, or that she was any part of this case.”
“So, you had no idea that she was the witness that the people had up their sleeve?”
“No, I had no idea,” Fabrizio shook his head. “I could never imagine that Natalya could do such a thing to her brother. They were always very close.”
“Francesco,” the reporter called out and glanced at the brothers, as if she wasn’t sure which brother was Francesco and hoping that he would step forward. “Can we please get a few words from you about your relationship with Natalya Huntsberg?”
“No, that won’t be happening,” a voice was quick to deny, one which I knew all too well. The camera was quick to zoom in on Massimo who looked like he wasn’t having any of it. “Francesco has nothing to say for the camera so let’s move on.”
My eyebrows shot up in surprise, especially when none of the brothers looked uncomfortable. They looked annoyed more than anything which gave me the impression that Francesco, whichever brother he was, wasn’t among them right now. But whatever his deal was, I couldn’t deny that my interest was piqued by the way Massimo was quick in his attempt to dismiss the reporter’s question.
“What about you, Massimo?” the reporter was quick to move on, not the least bit fazed by the way Massimo was quick to turn down her request. The brother that Francesco was still remained a mystery. “How do you feel now that your brother’s name has been cleared?”
“Relieved,” Massimo replied, his voice kind of monotone. “Though we all knew that Fabrizio wasn’t guilty in the first place.”
“How could you be so sure?”
“Because I know my brother, and I know that he would never do such a thing,” Massimo answered with the utmost conviction, completely sure of himself, but when the camera panned away from him, going back to the group shot, I spied him lean down and glance at the lawyer. She whispered in his ear and I watched as he chuckled, seemingly amused by whatever she had said.
Was it possible they were dating?
“Surely, as the mafia boss, you must have had your doubts about your brother’s innocence in this situation?” the reported continued to ask even though it was clear that she had clearly overstepped her boundary once or twice.
“No comment,” Massimo was quick to deny and before the reporter could go in with yet another probing question, the lawyer shook her head, indicating that it was enough of the questions.
My eyes widened at the insinuation of her words. The mafia boss?
When he said his name was Massimo earlier this morning, I had thought the name was sexy, especially the way he said it, and wanted to hear him say it again. I didn’t expect to hear it again so soon, and not on the news, either.
Another thing I didn’t expect was for him to be Massimo Mancini, the mafia boss of the Mancini Mafia. How had it happened that he ended up at the Starbucks I worked at to order a vanilla latte at five in the morning? And the whole time I was torn between thinking that that he was the most beautiful man in the world, and that he was the abusive fiancé of the woman that had ordered a drink from me before.
And at that thought, a photo of the woman I had just been thinking of flashed up on the screen as the reporter kept on yapping away while the Mancini’s were quick to leave.
It said her name was Natalya Huntsberg and she had killed her brother, but yesterday her name had been Nat and she was trying to flee the country.
“That was Fabrizio Mancini, his lawyer, Benedetta D’Angelo, and his brothers. Including the mafia boss, Massimo Mancini. They’re clearly very elated at the outcome of this trial after Natalya Huntsberg’s confession of murdering her brother, mistaking it for Fabrizio. And to think, all of this started from when Francesco Mancini cheated on his now ex-girlfriend, Natalya Huntsberg. Clearly, his actions pushed her–” her voice drowned out when the TV was turned off.
Huh, so that’s what Francesco had done. He had cheated on Natalya and made her crazy enough to commit murder, even if she had accidentally killed her brother instead of Francesco’s brother. I’m sure that there was more to the story but it didn’t appear that he would be getting any details in this little news session.
Well, it appeared that Tia had been telling the truth last night about suspecting the mafia to be all over the airport, trying to stop someone from escaping the country.
“Who can tell me what that reporter did right and wrong in that interview?” Professor asked after turning off the TV.
Several hands shot up.
“She went in without any context. She should have given the backstory before she started the interview,” someone spoke up from the back.
“Correct,” Professor Lockhart nodded. “But if she had used that time to explain the back story, perhaps she wouldn’t have been given the chance to interview Fabrizio Mancini and his brothers. Next!”
“She crossed many boundaries,” I said, my hand raised in the air.
“Now, this is subjective, but I agree,” Professor Lockhart nodded, and several people around the classroom voiced their agreement. “Do you care to explain, Yasemin?”
“All of her questions were very probing which would have been great if they actually answered, but she was clearly pushing for too much. When she saw the negative reaction that she received the first time, she should have scaled back and been a little gentler with her approach.”
“Good answer. Next!”
“She didn’t prepare,” Rizwan called out from beside me. “If she was better prepared, she would have been able to plan out her questions and then she probably would have had some more interview time with them.”
“Good answer. Anyone else? We have time for one more answer before we move onto the next portion of the class.”
“She shouldn’t have asked about Francesco,” a voice sounded out from a few rows behind us. “It was clearly a very sensitive topic from them from how Massimo reacted. She could have put two and two together and think that asking about Francesco and his relations with Natalya would definitely be a sensitive topic for the Mancini’s. I feel like after that question, the interview went downhill and there couldn’t have been anything she could have done or said to save it.”
“Great, thank you!” Professor Lockhart grinned and clapped his hands together. “Great participation from you all. I would like to take this moment to remind you all that class participation will count toward ten percent of your final grade. However, for one of you, that won’t be applicable.” He paused and laughed when the murmurs and whispers sounded through the class. “Yes, you heard me right. Class participation won’t count toward the final grade for one of you because the one who completes this assignment the best, you’ll get a hundred in this class and won’t have to take the final exam in December.”
“All of us just saw that interview with the Mancini’s, right? There are so many others like that all over these different news channels. As discussed, there were a lot of things that we would do differently than that reporter, and that’s exactly what this assignment would be. Your assignment for the next four weeks, is good old-fashioned journalism.”
“I want you all to go out there and get a statement from the Mancini’s. And not just any sort of interview or quote, but something that hasn’t been cited or quoted anywhere on the internet or other media outlets. Whoever manages to get an exclusive bit of information, or multiple people if you manage to get multiple bits of exclusive information from the Mancini’s themselves, you’ll ace this class and won’t have an extra final to study or stress over.”
“Let me explain this to you how it works. I’m not asking for a long interview here but rather, some good old-fashioned sleuthing and journalism. Let’s say you go out there and manage to get a statement from their private chef who had heard something, that’s impressive. However, someone who managed to get a quote from Fabrizio Mancini’s lawyer, that’s even better. I would argue that his lawyer would be ranked higher than his brothers as she personally worked this case. But the jackpot here, of course, would be to get an exclusive statement from Fabrizio Mancini himself, the man in the centre of this all. So, whoever gets the most exclusive piece of information, or multiple people if that’s the way things go, then you’ll have one less final to worry about in December.”
“If you even choose to not turn up to class for the rest of the semester, I don’t care. If you’re actually able to complete this assignment, then there’s certainly nothing else that I have to teach you.”
Professor Lockhart paused to laugh as excited murmurs filled the class. He was quick to quieten us all down and explain the rules like how this assignment was optional and anyone who chose not to participate, other than losing out on a good opportunity, they would not be missing out on anything else.
“Lockhart’s class was as entertaining as always,” Rizwan chuckled as we walked down the hall and toward the cafeteria where we met up with everyone for lunch as we did every Monday.
“You can say that again,” I agreed. “What do you think about the assignment?”
“I have no idea how I’m going to do it, but if there’s a possibility of doing one less final, I’m all over it.”
“Me too,” I nodded.
While I had absolutely no idea of how I was going to do this, get an interview with one of the Mancini’s to find out at least one thing that hadn’t been mentioned or cited by the media, I was sure that everyone else was in the same boat as me. None of us knew how we were going to do this, but the benefits far outweighed the risk and effort that this assignment would take.
I liked to think that possibly, I had an advantage over everyone else in my Journalism class as I had already met a Mancini before. But that was under the presumption that I would actually see Massimo Mancini once again.
Just because Massimo had made it sound like he would return – whether for another latte or to see me again, I wasn’t sure – didn’t mean that he would actually see it through. It could very well be like when a guy said that they would call but then they never did.
Regardless of everything, the strange behaviour from Massimo and Nat – who I now knew as Natalya – now made sense to me. But what was still yet to make sense to me was, why was Massimo Mancini flirting with me earlier this morning when he was very clearly involved with his brother’s lawyer?
-
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Layla Knight
22.01.2022
