bellyache.

senator judd rockwell thirty-six. chicago native. illinois senator district #3

[juddrockwell-blog]

jxsperlee‌:

where: unfinished office building on edge of the city who: @juddrockwell​ when: may 2019

It was late. Or, rather, the person Jasper was waiting on was late. Jasper checked his phone and scrunched his phone at the sight. Seventeen minutes late. Geez. Did the kid think he was made of time or something? Granted, it wasn’t as if Jasper necessarily had a packed schedule he had to fit in these side dealings into. But that wasn’t something he was going to let the scrawny kid who always dropped several hundred bucks every other week know. In all honesty, Jasper was impressed by the pocket size of the kid. He looked fresh out of college- if even that. He wondered where a kid that young got money like that. Oh, well. Judging where his payment came from wasn’t really of interest to him, as long as the money was real, Jasper was happy. With a smack of his lips, Jasper shrugged the bag off his shoulder and placed it down on the floor by his feet. For that much money, he would wait. At least for a short while longer. Up until that point, the kid had yet to ever be tardy to their meetings. He scoffed a laugh and smiled to himself, wondering if his choice of scenery that time had scared the kid off before any threat of arrest could.

He had assistants -- lackeys, his colleagues would say in jest whenever Judd would make an otherwise unreasonable request at their expense. Getting his supply had always been an ordeal even before he was suddenly under the thumb of the Faction, having to be extra careful to keep his nose clean in the eye of the public. If word were to get out about his little cocaine fascination, all hell would surely break loose. Perhaps it was fear that drove him to go to his dealer alone, not wanting to leave a paper trail as far as directing his assistants to pick up his supply. He didn’t know who to trust these days -- if he could trust anyone -- so, he relied on himself. Clad in a black hoodie over his Armani suit, the male wasn’t necessarily a stranger to drug deals, having done the deed himself back when he was younger. However, based on the otherwise miserable scenery that he’d come upon, he was wondering if this was all a stupid idea. “Not that I was expecting the Met or anything,” the Senator smacked his lips together, approaching the other with his eyes narrowed, “but I have to say, I thought you’d pick a meeting place that was a little more...sanitary.”

[juddrockwell-blog]

where: crown country club when: weeks leading up to the charon who: @mickreardon

Everything appeared to be normal in Judd Rockwell’s life: his various appointments and meetings continued to go on without a hitch, his normal after-hours lifestyle maintained the same sense of urgency and privacy as it had done before. It seemed as if the little blip on his radar had never even occurred, though, internally, it was as if the Senator was about to burst at the seams. Would it have been better for him to have been found out, to be exposed for the fraud he was rather than be under the thumb of the most powerful underground gangs in the city? They had him in the palm of their hands, and though no demands had come of this newfound arrangement quite yet, the anticipation had the politician absolutely gobsmacked.

Internally, however, since Judd had become quite the master at the whole fake it ‘til you make it type deal. So, when Mick called him up to schedule what some might call a ‘power lunch’, he found it hard to refuse. Not only because making up excuses would cast him in a bad light, but also because him and Mick went way back -- even before their political careers had begun. “Michael, Michael, Michael,” Judd grinned, reaching out to give his friend a firm handshake. "I’m glad we were able to set this up. City hasn't run you to the ground quite yet, has it?”

[juddrockwell-blog]

location: the waldorf-astoria; a private hotel room when: weeks prior to the charon with @xxmirage

It wasn’t an unusual occurrence, and it hadn’t been for quite some time, for Judd so seek some...outside companionship. One might question why Judd went to the lengths he did to acquire a beautiful woman for the night — after all, he was a powerful man, but that was just it; powerful men could hardly display that type of power in the public eye, less their reputation be tarnished because of all of the speculation. Paying for his women tended to fare better for him personally, anyways, seeing as he didn’t need to make any empty promises or even try particularly hard to get what he wanted. Besides, with the amount of money he gave to Luna during their encounters, it was safe to say that he could rely on her discretion. Especially given that some of his so-called ‘kinks’ were, well, kinky. 

“That’s — that doesn’t usually happen,” Judd explained, turned away from the woman as he poured himself a large glass of whiskey from the hotel room’s mini bar. He was having performance issues that particular night, something that didn’t bode well for him given how severely some release was needed. “My assistant double booked me for multiple appointments, so I’ve been swamped with calls and meetings all fucking week. Not to mention I’m trying to get a bill passed as a favor to a colleague, which is proving to be near impossible given the lack of time and resources...” He huffed, crossing his arms over his bare chest before turning to face Luna. “It’s fine, it doesn’t matter. Where’s that baggy I had earlier?” Judd narrowed his brows, gaze darting to surfaces near by for any sign of the white powder. 

[juddrockwell-blog]

location: senator rockwell’s office when: weeks prior to the charon with: @anikadayal​

The Chief of Police wasn’t exactly someone that Judd was keen on talking to at the moment, not considering the events that had unfolded over the past couples of months. There hadn’t been a peep from anyone; no officers, no news outlets, no staff — no one knew anything about his little drinking, driving and soliciting adventure that landed him somewhat unscathed. Well, other than the threat of information being released that would essentially ruin his entire life, and in more ways than one at that. He told his assistant, Beth, to tell her that he was in meetings all day, hoping that would get her to leave, but apparently Chief Dayal was insistent. 

Locking the drawer to his desk where he kept some illicit white powder ( one could never be too careful), the male tucked the key in his breast pocket and let out a shaky breath, maintaining a calm composure before buzzing his assistant. “You can tell her to come right in,” he requested, buttoning his suit jacket before rounding the desk. A wide smile pressed against his cheeks when Anika finally entered, politely extending a hand. “Chief Dayal, what a pleasant surprise,” Judd noted, cocking his head to the side. “It’s been some time. Months, I think — too long. Would you like some coffee? I was going to have Beth make me a cup.” He nodded at the young woman, who scurried off to pour the drink in question. “I’m sorry, I only have a few minutes before my next meeting. What can I do for you in the meantime? It sounded urgent.”

[juddrockwell-blog]

serakaran‌:

Location: Purgatory Time: 2 weeks prior to The Charon

The number of guests within the walls of Purgatory who manage to escape her notice are few and far between, more specifically the ones insistent upon a particular treatment when requesting to access through the back door of Chicago’s finest club. Famous faces were hardly a rare occurrence throughout her tenure as co-owner, but few made such frequent appearances as Senator Rockwell. His requirements for discretion were near ludicrous, but if the tab garnered at the end of the night continued its usual streak of high rolling, who was she to dissuade him from coming? Though perhaps his behavior might be improved upon. Having left the bar station after speaking to one of her managers, she approached his VIP booth above the crowded dance floor with little in the way of hesitation. “Enjoying ourselves tonight?” The question directed at both the man in question and his miniature posse. “Senator, might I remind your friends here that the staff is not public property.” Hues narrowed in on one individual in particular. “Touch one of my waitresses again and I’ll be more than happy to escort you and your broken hand from the premises.” @juddrockwell​

His nerves had been shot for months now; paranoia at a high even he formerly didn’t believe was possible given the risky behavior he constantly had to be mindful of. Purgatory had been a place that frequently offered him solace, prying himself away from the public eye without a care in the world of who surrounded them. He paid a hefty price for the workers and the other patrons to turned a blind eye, even with the private booth he rent out during his visits, but now it almost felt entirely trivial. Now, it wasn’t the public who was watching him — it was those that operated behind closed doors, and Judd wasn’t exactly sure which one he preferred. Either way, a night out to let loose and return to his antics was much needed, less he drive himself crazy in the meantime.

The Senator peered up from behind his bourbon as the woman approached, jaw clenching indiscernibly before breaking out into his trademark shit-eating grin. “Fantastic. You’ve outdone yourself with the place, as usual, Ms. Karan,” he complimented, following her gaze to his associate. He’d been wary of the man from the beginning, only allowing him to tag along as a favor, and now it seemed like whatever that favor had been was far from worth it. Placing his drink on the table, Judd stood up and buttoned his suit jacket, the ever so pleasant expression still apparent on his features. “Please excuse Councilman Powell — he’s very good at establishing public policy, but his manners definitely need some work. Give my apologies to the waitress, will you? It won’t happen again.” The words that fell from his lips practically made him sick, not really giving a single shit about the situation itself but more so the potential threat to his privacy (and a further blow to his reputation). “The night’s just beginning, anyway. Wouldn’t want to ruin good potential. Speaking of which, won’t you join me for a round?” He arched an eyebrow,  grabbing a handle of bourbon from the table and presenting it to Sera. “Twenty-three-year-old single barrel bourbon. Eagle Rare. Part of my gratitude.”

[rorybbellows]

[etherexit]

[bidoctor]

[sharmans]