Coral Harbor
Sunshine, neon and money nobody can explain. The boss just went to prison. Get a car. Get a job. Get a name.
- Crime
- Present day
- Open city
- Neon
present-day crime 1 membreCréé par Worldtable
Coral Harbor runs on sunshine, tourists and money nobody can explain. Cruise ships come in by day and speedboats by night, and every club on the strip has two owners: the one on the licence and the real one. Last month Ernesto Vega, the man who kept it all in order, went to prison, and now every deal in town is being renegotiated. Two crews are shooting over his docks, a hurricane is three days out, and his ledger is not where he left it. Be a hustler, a getaway driver or a crew's muscle, or the other side: a patrol cop, a crime reporter, an ER nurse, a lawyer with clients on both sides. Get a car. Get a job. Get a name. The city will take it from there.
Là où tout a commencé
the Vega arrest
A month ago federal agents took Ernesto Vega off his boat at the Royal Key marina at dawn, in his bathrobe, with the cameras already waiting. For twenty years Vega kept the city's underworld in order: which crew worked which district, which containers at Tarpon Point went unopened, which clubs on the strip washed whose money, which cops and councilmen were paid. He is held without bail at the Coral Harbor Detention Center downtown, and he still talks to people through his lawyer and his niece. He kept a ledger of everyone he paid, and it is not where he left it. Every deal he held is being renegotiated, some of them with guns.
Les terres
Coral Harbor
the City
the city on the bay: glass towers downtown, the beach strip, the docks, the old neighbourhoods of Los Arcos, and neon over all of it
One city on a bay, and every part of it is in play. Downtown is glass towers and lawyers; the strip at Pelican Beach is neon and clubs with two owners, a film shoot spending money faster than any film could, and Friday races on the causeway where cars change owners; at the docks of Tarpon Point the Peña brothers and Pedro Colón's crew are shooting over Ernesto Vega's port; in the old neighbourhoods of Los Arcos a crew is family and Vega's ledger was last seen.
Palm Isles
the Islands
mansions with boat garages and no neighbours, marinas, and keys strung out to sea
Mansions, boat garages and no neighbours. Last night a sixty-foot yacht drifted into the Royal Key marina with nobody aboard, its engines off and its lights still on, and the hurricane is coming straight for the keys.
Heron Lakes
the Swamp County
the swamp county at the far end of the highway: sawgrass, airboats, gators, fish camps, a hard little county town, and the places where things get buried
Past the highway is the swamp: sawgrass to the horizon, airboats, gators, fish camps and a few hard little towns. It is where things get buried, and where the small planes land at night.
Qui tu peux être
Human
The people of Coral Harbor: old Florida families, retirees and snowbirds, Cuban and Puerto Rican families three generations deep in Los Arcos, dockworkers, club kids, cops, cooks, models, boat people and new money from everywhere. Present-day clothes, phones in their pockets, and a long memory for who did what on which street.