LIMERENCE S1: Easy Does It 0.2

The tragic death of actor Jacob Doyle was very shocking. Although Jacob was not a well-known actor during his lifetime, it was Joey Carter's involvement that made him a major topic in various countries. A lot of speculation was thrown by the public on this matter, and of course Joey Carter did not escape the target.

That night, after the hordes of people who crowded the location were dispersed, Jacob's body was transported by ambulance and the police secured the scene by placing a police line, Joey Carter was declared a witness to the murder of Jacob Doyle by a stranger whose identity was still being investigated.

The next day, Joey went through five hours of questioning with dozens of questions.

Sheira, his assistant, couldn't help but cry tears of worry as she picked Joey up at the police station after the young man's first examination as a witness.

Charlie, on the other hand, said nothing. The middle-aged man just smiled blandly, hugging Joey tightly while rubbing his back. They met in the manager's room that evening when Joey met Arthur the manager. Charlie also happened to be there to talk about the filming process of A Genius Criminal season two. All actors, actresses, staff, producers and others agreed to postpone filming until the case against the lead actor was over.

How long will the Jacob Doyle murder case last? No one knows. Even after a week has passed, there is still no light on the identity of the shooter and his motive. Criminal investigators face difficulties in finding other eyewitnesses, let alone clues that point the evidence to someone.

"Jacob is such an annoying person, just looking at him makes me sick, no wonder someone killed him," Alice scoffed while recalling how Jacob smiled lamely with a harassing look at her one time.

Beside her, a blonde girl was busy smoothing her bangs. "Does it have to be by killing him? There are many actors and even people with character like Jacob Doyle in this world, killing one won't work to warn the others." Chelsea, a newcomer actress who got a small role, continued her comments after taking care of her bangs. "After all, killing people is not justified." She and Alice looked at each other. "Except in movies or fictional stories."

"Or... maybe the killer was motivated to kill annoying people like Jacob because of the movie," Alice openly speculated because there was only her and Chelsea.

After they had a meeting with the people involved in making the TV series, Alice and Chelsea agreed to go to a cafe together. Now they were still in the building where the meeting had taken place even though they were in different rooms.

"Come on, Jacob is that annoying. Just seeing him breathe makes me sick," Alice added, muffling Chelsea's stiff look after hearing her speculation.

It was still Alice who spoke, "I remember, how he looked at Joey behind the podium after the EMMYs yesterday." Her hands clenched into fists remembering that moment. "My fingers itched to choke his neck and scratch his sarcastic face."

Chelsea agrees this time. "If I were Joey, I would have punched him in the face," she held a fist forward, "no matter the consequences."

"And now that has made it onto my list of things I regret in life," said a voice from behind.

Alice and Chelsea turned around in unison. "Joey," they called together.

Joey sat at an empty dressing table, his back to the glass and smiled faintly. "For the sake of my reputation, I constantly kept my fists from flying into her face." He let out a short breath. "Now that he's dead, that opportunity won't come again."

"Jacob the coward, just died and left Joey the problem." As a Joey Carter fan, Chelsea was worried about the murder case involving her favorite actor.

"I heard the police already have a few leads," Alice informed.

The two people in the room looked at her curiously. Especially Joey.

***

A large beachfront mansion with predominantly white Mediterranean architecture sits on a one-hectare plot of land with a high cliff overlooking the sea on its left side.

The rococo-architecture room on the left wing is full of well-preserved 18th-century European antique furniture, as well as rows of books lined up neatly on tall wooden shelves. Not far away, on a brown leather sofa, sat a handsome man sipping chamomile tea. The ceramic cup was placed on the table after its contents had diminished. The man's attention stared disinterestedly at the newspaper idling beside the untouched snack. Also ignoring the series of sentences that entered his sense of hearing.

"When you decided to join the military, I didn't forbid you from defending a foreign country. I also didn't prevent you from building your own organization, rather than managing what your grandfather had worked so hard to build," an old man said without looking at the handsome man who was already practically middle-aged. "But by joining the government—

"I told you, I didn't do it, Father," cut in the younger man to the old man he called father.

The man's hair had turned white, his face was wrinkled although he still looked handsome, and his once muscular body was hunched over, no longer able to do strenuous activities, sitting in a wooden chair reading a book, aided by the minus glasses perched on his sharp nose. Grumbling at his son's interruption, he didn't like it. "Just tell me if you're interested in joining the government. Democrats or politics, no one can stop you. But don't expect me to agree."

Domenico Cassano was in no mood to argue with his father about his alleged interest in government.

"Isn't it interesting, having the authority and power that governs the system of a country." Mr. Enzio took a book from the shelf without moving from the chair he was sitting on. "You have a good image, Don. Especially after you invested in the port. Also, you have a criminal record that the dogs of the country you live in can't detect. A monopoly isn't enough, full power must be. I was right, wasn't I?"

Domenico didn't answer. He turned his attention to a sheet of newspaper on the table. Opening the pages at random, pretending not to notice what his father was talking about. He was going to, until his eyes caught a photo of a blond young man he knew well in an article titled: "Joey Carter Was The Main Witness To The Death of His Fellow Actor After Being Shot By Sn Unknown Person in Front of A Casino.

Spontaneously Domenico sharpened his senses, reading what was written there.

Jacob Doyle, the name Domenico had heard several times, especially from Joey's own mouth; the young man told him briefly, how annoying the actor was every time they met. On the other hand, his soldier confirmed that Jacob Doyle was a cocaine dealer among artists in the entertainment industry.

He was killed by being shot in the head in front of a casino by an unknown person driving a car. That's the brief chronology of Joey Carter as the main witness.

Clearly, the mastermind of Jacob Doyle's murder was the cocaine boss where he was a dealer. It is not yet clear who it is, a dealer can work for two or three people at once.

Domenico's mind began to be unsettled. He worried about Joey when he found out that the young man was the main witness—who was likely to be the next target to be killed—to eliminate evidence of the murder of actor Jacob Doyle.

"Are you worried about the boy, Dom?" Mr. Enzio asked, seriousness evident in his tone.

Domenico didn't answer. It turned out that his father had already known about this.

"You'd better use your love for the organization, rather than for that boy—after you loved his mother and were dumped."

"I don't ..."

"Who doesn't love their 'pets', many of them sacrifice a lot for them."

Domenico's lips parted, about to reply to his father's comment in a slightly higher tone, but was interrupted by his cell phone ringing.

Newspaper laid rough, Domenico immediately checked the call which turned out to be from Joey. There was no reason for him to delay picking up the call from his "pet". Without excuse, he left immediately.

"Dom!" Joey's voice on the other side sounded panicked.

"Joey," replied Domenico, he sharpened his sense of hearing, the voice on the other side sounded quiet.

"Dom, I have something to say."

"Tell me, Joey, what is it?

"I ..."

tut ... tut ...

The call was disconnected, Domenico stared intently at the phone screen which again displayed the main menu.

What's going on?

*

A click signaled the opening of the brown-painted door of an apartment-after a man had successfully punched in the password. A pair of dark brown eyes glanced warily at the deserted corridor. Feeling safe, he quickly entered and closed it from the inside without worrying about not being able to get out-he had already stored the number combination in his head.

The bedroom was the first target his feet stepped into. The man gazed at the picture frame of a young man with blond hair, sitting on the waist-high white table beside the bed.

It was quiet, only the second hand of the clock in the room could be heard, followed by the soft creak of a manuscript drawer being opened. There were a few sheets of notes, small books and a photograph of a handsome adult man—the result of a newspaper scrap being saved.

The man was about to move to check the contents of the closet, it was only a moment, then his ears heard the sound of the main door opening. The vigilance in him increased, immediately hiding behind the sofa that was located in the corner of the room. Her eyes narrowed as the footsteps got closer. It was the young resident of the apartment, Joey Carter.

"I'll be fine," he told someone. He took off his coat and threw it on the corner of the bed.

The man squinted, looking for the person Joey was talking to. The limited view was a bit difficult.

"You've been worried about me since day one," he continued, and it turned out that the young man was alone, talking on the phone with someone.

"Alright, I'll call you tomorrow, see u." Joey sat himself on the bed, his eyes focused on the cell phone screen, reading the incoming messages. Meanwhile, the stranger who managed to infiltrate his apartment reached for something from the black fur jacket he was wearing. Joey's figure was not out of sight, even when his fingertips touched the handle of the firearm tucked into his clothes.

Joey stood up from his seated position, silent with his hand on his cell phone. His gaze was fixed on the door, and his expression turned serious.

Had the young man realized something?

The stranger who had infiltrated was also pondering, should he shoot the actor right this second? There was no order from his boss to kill a Joey Carter, but if push came to shove, the stranger had no other choice.

A minute later, Joey finally walked to the door, exiting the room while holding his cell phone without knowing that a stranger was watching. Continuing to walk to the front door, his finger pressed a number that he had only memorized.

The man peeked out of the room, his eyes moving swiftly, looking for a place to hide. He found it behind a chest-high bookshelf. Even if the young man found his whereabouts, the bullet in the man's revolver would instantly perforate his head, just as the man perforated Jacob Doyle's head.

Joey was about to dial the number when, at the same second, his apartment bell rang. He resisted the urge and opened the door.

It was an elderly woman in her sixties, standing at Joey's door with a jar of gingerbread man cookies.

"I made too many, so I'm sharing them with you, they're perfect with hot tea on this cold day," said the old lady, wrinkles dotting her once beautiful face.

"Thank you, Mrs. Laurent." Joey happily accepted, coincidentally he had wanted a gingerbread man cookie on his way home. Mrs. Laurent was indeed a good neighbor during Joey's stay in this place. It wasn't an elite apartment, but the facilities were decent.

"Take care of your health, don't work too hard." Mrs. Laurent advised. She really didn't know what Joey did for a living—although the young man often appeared on TV, Mrs. Laurent's myopic vision kept her from recognizing Joey Carter in real life.

Joey nodded. A jar of gingerbread man cookies in his right hand, his cell phone still in his hand. The call button was pressed, soon someone on the other side answered the call.

"Dom, I have something to say," Joey said to Domenico, his voice sounding hesitant.

"Tell me, Joey, what is it?"

"I—"

Brugh!

The phone and the plastic jar of gingerbread man cookies fell to the floor, Joey following as his knees hit the floor when his body was pushed hard by someone he just realized came out of his apartment with a revolver in hand.

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