America The Beautiful

A handsome, white, middle aged couple drives a 2019 white Mercedes, through Chicago past Millennium par; The Chi's version of NY's Central Park. "Ohh, Paul you and your superstitions. I'm Changing the the Topic.... You know Adam's going back out for baseball come spring?" Says Paul's wife Cheryl as she drives.

"Yeah?.... and here i thought my only son was a little light in the cleats." "You need to learn a little sensitivity mister; He was hit in the face by a bad pitch and suffered a cracked cheek bone his freshman year. That'd shake anybody the hell up. He got depressed, his girlfriend left him. Not to mention his grades took a free fall..." - Cheryl. "His girlfriend was a little tramp. Ran off at the 1st sign of trouble like that. Now my son's gotta scholarship and a chance to get drafted. He'll be makin' more than his parents, and then watch that girl try to call him." "She had better not." They stop at a red light on the corner. Cheryl looks to the left over near the park, smiling at all the couples ice-skating on the pond. "Look who's behind us." Paul comments. They both look through their mirrors and see a city policeman, also waiting for the light. Cheryl waves back at the unknown cop; getting a nod in return.

"I think it's just so nice, that both our children, have both their parents. They go to school, come to church when we ask 'em. I was so afraid of Adam getting hooked on those Percocet's. Such a close call." Cheryl wipes her forehead, and continues. "You see all these broken young men on the south side. No guidance.... direction." - Paul. "And the world wonders why they turn to drugs. Both sides of that coin." Cheryl. "I rather my son have a painkiller addiction than be a Homo. Did ya see The Morrison's kid at that fundraiser? His hair looked better than yours." Paul says and they both chuckle. "Go ta Hell" Cheryl chortles. "It's a free country, I rather one of the kids be gay, than strung out."- Cheryl. "Well let's thank our lucky stars we have neither? Huh? You know how rare that is in 2018?" - Paul says as Cheryl shakes her head, blonde curls dangling. She makes a right and turns into a luxury condo building's underground parking. They get out, and key the trunk. Taking the elevator up to floor 17.

They walk to the end of the hall and knock on apt 1710, but then walk back down to 1704 and unlock the door to their lavish, $7k per month Condo. The windows have impressive views. They have persian rugs, french furniture and Italian artworks. Not to mention a catholic cross hanging on the wall. They set the luggage down in the dining area and clear off a glass table. Unzipping the luggage, they begin pulling out souvenirs from their trip to Boca Raton, Florida:

Neatly packed Cocaine. Kilo after Kilo after Kilo.

Now, there's a Knock on their Door. "COME IN!" Cheryl, bites her bottom lip. Paul shakes his head at their open marriage.

A stocky, dark-skin Narco from the south side, wearing a denim fit and Cartier glasses takes his timberlands off as if their home was his. Damon Taylor. 31 year old, Chicago Kingpin.

"Mr. P.... Cheryl." "Afternoon, Handsome." answers Cheryl. "What kinda taste did the troublemakers send us?" Dame asks, a no-nonsense Killer with manners. " 63 Kilograms. 88% Pure." -Paul. "El Chapo's sons are NOT Troublemakers. They're sweethearts just like you and your cousin Joey." says a smiling Cheryl. "Whatever. 88%, huh? Thats fuckin' Beautiful; I'll have the girls come up and cut it tonight. So make sure the neighbors and shit are subdued. We'll need a few days." "Right, and OH! Did you just forget, about the $2.4 Million you left in our closet last week or what?" -Paul. "Just Testin', I'll pick it up soon. Peace."

As the door closes and Dame disappears, both Paul and Cheryl let out a hell of a sigh. "You, ok?" Paul asks. "Just... a glass of wine dear?" "Right."

"Promise you'll take me ice-skating at the Millennium Park, before spring come melts it? "It's Chicago, C. There is no Spring...Just snow." Paul states, as he twist a bottle open and looks at all the Cocaine on the table.

A year later, Joey and Dame, throw a celebratory party on a new $6M yacht off the coast of Nassau in The Bahamas. On the Double Deck, 120 footer, The 'Taylor Cartel' of Chicago pops bottles with everyone from their Top Capos and hitmen, as well as their seasoned smugglers such as Paul and Cheryl Washington. The Sun is up above them, and as Cheryl lies back getting a tan, wearing Gucci shades, she damn near waves at the beaming sun up above.

Joey, Dame and an old Jewish man in a versace button down lean over the boat's railing and congregate.

"Mr. Mayor wants a 10% raise after that shoot-out on state street last month." The Jew informs them. An experienced player, nearing his 70s. He's been around since The Chicago Outfit ran Vegas in the 1970s. An errand boy for Frank Rosenthal back then. Isaac Black. "My advice is give em what he wants. He's the only one standing between you and a bus down to Marion, Illinois."

"We already losin' money on our casino shares. What the Hell, I.B.?" - Joey, The 30yr old Chieftan. "Blame Covid, not mee! Pandemic as such, people are at home not out gambling and drinking with strangers. Your Escort girls are broke for the same reasons." I.B.

"A Solution maybe? That's what you're gettin' paid for, no?" Dame

"Gimme a couple million to wash. Then I'll go to my stock brokers and invest in, I dunno 'Netflix'. And Fantasy Football Leagues. People are cooped up in the house, they stream movies, gamble online, and order food. You'll be huggin' and kissin' me all over again in 6 months." - Black. "He's Right." -Joey to Dame. "Of course he's right, He's Jewish." All 3 Gangsters share a laugh. A hearty laugh only rich people know.

After a week at sea, The Yacht sails back north and gets ready to dock off the coast of Miami.

The Yacht's Taylor Gang is met with 2 DEA Helicopters circling above and and a platoon of Alphabet Agents on Land. DEA, IRS, ATF etc. The not-so-tough members of the Syndicate are panicking. Joey, and Isaac stand at the front of the Boat and accept their fates. "Some Mayor, huh?" - Joe.

Damon makes rounds on the boat and whispers to them all. "Cooperate and Die." Grabbing forearms. "Cooperate and Die."

DEA Agent Ralph Moses, stands with Cheryl Washington in a room where they can see her husband all sitting down with his lawyer talking to a female DEA Agent across the table. She's made up her mind not to tell. Joey taught her daughter Sarah how to skate 6 winters ago on the icy Millennium Pond. He gave them a loan when their restaurant failed, that he used to frequent. It never recovered so that's how they became apart of his Business. It was Joey's crew who broke the pitcher's throwing arm, which shattered Adam's cheek as a freshman. The team giving Adam a terrible version of freshman 'Hazing'. "You sure you don't want a separate Lawyer? I'm Sure you could afford it." Moses says giving her a pig-in-shit smirk. Cheryl, the free-spirited mother of 2 and church going wife, gives Ralph a look as if The Devil himself's behind her eyes. His smirk slowly disappearing.

Interrogation Room:

"You can go fuck yourself, asking me to give up the Taylors." Paul shrugs at the female agent. "Oh?" Agent Bryant. "First of All I'm a Veteran. I was a Captain in the War on Iraq 20 years ago. They knocked down my towers and I answered that call. I was there. Fought almost 10 years, saw 22 guys i knew personally die. And what did their widows and kids get in return? A damn folded flag. A barely livable monthly check. We get sent home, sent to a shrink, get called 'Crazy' and put on pills if we want our check from the V.A. --- Fucking Raegan and Bush Sr. work with Cartels and Nicaraguans; Veterans and 'Down on Their Luck' Business Owners do it... Supplying a goddamn demand... and....and It's Funny cause I share the Last Name, with one of The Biggest Gangsters of All-Time. Not Capone. Not Escobar...... but 'Washington'! - Put Me, This Washington, in Prison, - 300 years ago, Put That 'Washington' On Pennsylvania Avenue." Paul whispers with a grin. "Alright Paulie! It's alright. It's a Cold World out here, I know. We'll work all this out." - Paul's Lawyer. "So, no names for us?" Agent Bryant. "I'll Die first. Gimme 30 Years, Nothing'll change. Not the drug flow. Not the Gangsters who work in the White house, or the Senate, nor the Gangsters who work the corners with red flags hangin' out their pocket. Nothin' changes when you lock us up. Not even the fact that I still Love This Backward ass Country... Even if it is an Ice Cold underwater pond where sharks dwell. When I left Iraq, and my steakhouse burned down, I learned; that's all this country is!! A watery Underworld. Some Sharks wear suits, some sharks wear jeans that droop, others are just sharks that happen to have no fuckin' teeth, or guts. Which one are you, Officer? - Veteran Paul Washington, Cocaine Smuggler, Proud Father and Loving Husband.