"His ego has been crushed, definitely. There's no coming back from this one," the man on the screen said.
"But wasn't he your friend?"
"Tsk, tsk," the man replied, mirroring the sound with a movement of his forefinger. "There is a difference between friends and colleagues," Dez Judas finished, folding his arms across his chest. "The chap was brilliant though... what must've happened?" he asked with a smirk he was trying desperately to hide, but to no avail.
The interviewer looked at his card of questions in his hand. He raised his head and was about to say something when Dez interrupted, leaving the man with an ajar mouth.
"Just before I continue, I want to tell you guys," he began, now looking directly into the camera and not to the person interviewing him.
"Listen to my podcast-- The Petty Prophet-- and follow all my social media channels. I am going to be talking about Vale Holmes and what led to his downfall, and I happen to have first-hand information," Dez winked as the corner of his mouth turned upwards in a wicked smirk. "Pride comes before a fall, they say."
"One more question, please," the interviewer immediately with slight irritation in his voice. If one didn't pay close attention, they'd miss it.
DEZ!
Vale's stomach painfully churned as his mind deafened, making him recoil, almost into the shirt he wore. He suddenly appeared smaller than he was, and that made the people notice him more. They laughed and talked about his bruised ego and how he might no longer afford the house that he lived in. Vale managed to raise the collar of his shirt, wishing he had worn a face cap or a long coat. The peals of laughter and camera shutters were muffled now, but he was still aware of them. Vale moved as fast as his heavy legs could carry him. He was athletic and fit-- attending the gym four times a week-- but right now, he couldn't move as he was accustomed to.
How could Dez do that to him? Vale thought. What had he ever done to Dez to deserve such a slap from him? Had Dez been waiting for an opportunity like this? To what end?
Vale's mind almost went hyper with thoughts and questions. His mouth tasted like blood and battery acid. His phone buzzed again. He didn't check it. Vale kept walking, now gaining momentum with long strides. All he needed to do was to get away from where people were, temporarily forgetting about the office and why they had mercilessly wiped his account.
After walking for about 30 minutes, Vale sighted a cafe and walked in. He needed a cup of coffee and a place to sit to process his thoughts. Holmes looked around like a bandit before entering the cafe. No one took out their phones, so that was good enough for him.
The place was air-conditioned, smelled like freshly baked bread and coffee. There was a booth at the corner that was empty, which Vale almost dove into when he saw it.
"A cup of black coffee, please. No sugar," Vale said, still keeping his head low and avoiding eye contact. He kept scrolling through the notifications on his phone without opening anyone.
The waiter didn't seem to notice anything wrong as he pivoted on his heels and walked away to get Vale's order.
After some minutes passed, someone almost whispered, "This is trending now,".
Vale's mind had wandered, so he didn't hear what the waiter had said, even as he sat close to the end of the counter.
"They wanna put a clip of the first episode! Crazy, right?" another one said, a bit louder than the first worker. She was excited, and it caught the attention of some customers, including Vale.
"Turn up the volume," the manager of the cafe said, obviously interested in the matter showing on the television. He closed the book he had been taking stock in and secured his pen in the middle.
The girls squeaked like rats, and the one holding the remote control did as she was told.
"The Petty Prophet is here! Just as I promised you," Dez Judas said as he sat behind a black microphone lined with red at the edges. Even the backdrop was a black screen with bright red italics writing - The Petty Prophet.
"Why's his aesthetic so dark?" the second waiter said as she adjusted the pink rose clip she had used to her hair cover in place.
"Who cares about that?" the manager asked.
"Shh!" said the worker who loved to whisper. "There's a guest!"
"You didn't allow me to hear who the guest is!" the manager protested to the pink rose girl.
"But you are still talking!" she retorted.
A pre-recorded applause reverberated through the TV to the cafe as Dez was seen stretching out his hand and rising to receive someone who was going to be behind the second microphone.
At this point, Vale was trembling, so much so that he began to sweat profusely despite the temperature being cold inside the cafe. He interlocked his fingers in a bid to keep his hands somewhat stable.
Vale didn't know what to expect-- how to brace himself for what Dez wanted to do next. He took a deep breath, as if he was about to jump off a cliff, and listened to this new podcast his so-called friend had created. Is this at my expense? Vale wondered.
With her hair laid so well that it was cascading in well-calculated waves down one of her shoulders, deep red lipstick, fully mascaraed lashes and venom, Vanessa sat. She was beautiful. No one could argue that. However, she didn't accept Dez's outstretched hand as she helped herself to sit gracefully on her chair.
Dez cleared his throat and sat back down with a small awakward smile on his face. He recovered quickly and waited for Vanessa's reaction when she read what was ritten in the card on the table.
Vanessa let out a nice laugh that must have caught the attention of everyone tuned into that podcast at that moment.