I started to laugh. You know, awkward chuckles to ward off the impending silence. It was there anyway, like a whale jammed in-between Diego and the person staring at him. A whale made of silence and shock. Neither of them looked at me, they just stared at each other with a look of shock, horror and a whole load of other emotions. And then swivelled their eyes to me.
What is it with sisters that they always turn up at the wrong moment? Shakira always did that. Whenever I complained about her, or was on a date, or… Seeing the guy that she now really didn't like.
"Hey Kira…" I started, but I doubt she actually heard me.
"I'm not hallucinating am I?" Shakira asked me, her voice soft. She reached out a hand like a cautious bird and touched Diego's jacket. He flinched slightly, but it was enough to snap her out of fairy-land. Her pupils widened, her brows knotted and she lowered her hand. Biting her lip, she said "I suppose the search is over." Diego reeled back, and I knew he guessed why we were here in Boston now, but he asked, just for confirmation as he always did; "What search? What do you mean?", but Shakira had already turned away, flicking her thick hair bang into my face, and I could see that it was set in her determined-angry look as she walked away.
"I can see how happy she is to see me," Diego said, his eyebrows raised. I sighed.
"She's been like that ever since you left-" "You put up with that for six years?" "-but she's been worse since Dad died."
"Uncle Demitri's dead? How? When?" I knew his question wasn't just out of pity for a friend; my father was his mentor, and you don't forget the bond between your mentor and you in Sabre culture.
Let me explain what Sabres are. Sabres are the biggest, international-ish gang in the world, founded by a guy nicknamed Sabre-tooth. Apparently he had buck teeth, but that's off the point.
Sabres are the No.1 gang. And we're serious. It's like we're animals; we have territory, hierarchy, everything. You can have a normal job, you can be a doctor, writer, engineer… you can marry a normal person, provided they don't mind all the gang stuff. And if you have to, you can even quit.
But it's different once you come back home from your job, or school. You're a gangster, and it's like a nationality. You can leave, run away, but you will still be a sabre. Sabres are such a massive gang that we have divisions, and each division has their own hierarchy, with a leader and a deputy, and territory. There is an ultimate leader, who is under close security at all times. Rumour has it that he's in Venezuela at the moment, but no one actually sure where, for even who, the hell he is. We're mainly Spanish, Hispanic, or Portuguese. Our division leader is Diego's father, Leonidas, named after the amazing Spartan king, to link in with his surname, Espartana. Our deputy was my father. Now it's some guy called Paulo. He's my father's brother. I don't like him. But back to the story.
"And what was Shakira talking about?" Diego asked again, his expression stern. I stared in the direction Shakira had gone. Damn. She'll take the car home, and then I'll have to walk it. "Hello? Waiting for answers here!" I sighed again. A two year bout in Evil-Land and a four year bout in Normaldom definitely hadn't changed his personality.
"Who has loads of questions now? And your answers weren't exactly elaborate." I pointed out. But before he could think of a witty comeback, I said "C'mon. I know a good coffee shop round here." He lowered his gaze and followed me, running his fingers through his hair. It was more brown than blonde now, quite different to his golden crop when he was a kid. I could see thick scars running across his torso, so dark you could see them through the t-shirt he was wearing. I knew he had received them in Soto's gang; I had never seen them whilst we were kids.
We sat down in the coffee shop, engaging in meaningless small talk, but it was odd. Diego was my best friend. Spending 18 years together as practically twins, or triplets, if you included Shakira, meant we knew everything about each other. As sabres, trust and loyalty were everything, and if anything, we had that. We were like the three little pigs, depending on each other, and if a big bad wolf came, we all got the cauldron out.
But now, it seemed like eons separated us. It was only six years, but that's what it felt like. For Diego, it must have been because he severed all ties with us when he left his birth gang, our gang, to go with Soto, thinking it would be easier. For me, it was because Diego left because of me.
I hate myself. It was because of me that Diego had to leave, destroying his parents' dreams of him becoming leader, destroying my sister's heart, even destroying my father's dreams for his apprentice. All 'cause of me. And after he left, I was expected to fill the giant, Diego-shaped hole. How?
