E.T Chapter 3: Family Bonding and Issues
The Boltons have always been rich. Ever since Troy's great, great grandfather bootlegged and scammed his way to top of success, making others lose money while he gained it. He soon became a multi-billionaire, head of his company that became quite successful in ripping off people. His pretty wife, great Gram May, started her successful makeup business. Since then generations and generations of Boltons didn't have to worry about money, being absolutely finical-secured.
Take now. According to the will of his rich granddad, everything in his estate and fortunate was left to his sons, Jack and Toby. It was because of this his parents could throw away money and never has to worry about it running out. It was because of this they lived in one of the nicest, richest neighborhoods, where every house had a swimming pool or tennis court or both, and so much more.
To Troy, it was another reason why his dad was even more a small-minded jackass. For him, being rich had its' perks and upsets. The perks, included, living in a celebrity-like mansion he knew families would kill for to live in, where every room was twelve times larger than an average one and included servants to wait on them. Also having a wide-screen TV and the finest stereo-system and both a flat-screen computer and the newest Mac notebook. Having a work-out room that was practically an in-house gym as well as a swimming pool in the back.
The upsets, however, included another reason for his dad to complain. To complain if he spent a bit too much money, complain if he was being cheap and wasn't spending enough.
Sometimes he believed his dad lives for complaints the way people live for food. It was like coffee, caffeine that kept him going. And he, dear old son, was the caffeine to his dad's black coffee.
"Troy?" his mom said, her voice breaking him out his retrieve.
"Yes mom." He looked up from his dinner plate to his mother's concerned eyes and his dad's cool, arched eyebrow. Something told him they've been calling his name for quite awhile.
"Sweetheart, are you okay?" his mother asked. "You barely touched your plate, and I had Doris make your favorites."
Troy looked down at his plate, which consisted of Doris's famous, mouth-watering fried chicken, mashed potatoes with extra gravy, and cornbread on the side. On any other day, he'd be finished with in 2.5 minutes by now and move onto his second serving. But tonight he could barely swallow down the small bites he took.
Maybe it was because he was worried about the Calculus test on Friday. It was his hardest AP class he could never understand, no matter how hard he studied. Maybe because he still needed to figure out tactics for the next game the team has to go over? Or maybe it was because…
No, he gave himself a good smack in the face for thinking that. God, no. He wasn't going to go there. "Just a lot on my mind, mom."
His mom smiled and nodded in understanding, but he could see in her eyes she really didn't. That was no surprise to him.
According to his parents' friends, Troy was all his father and zero of his mother. Lucille Bolton was a beautiful woman, in a mom sort of way, with straight auburn hair she preferred keeping at shoulder-length, emerald green eyes that sparkled when the light hit them, and a fit figure. Being the head of M.A.C Makeup Company, she was mostly in New York. If she wasn't there, then she was traveling all over the world, spending more time in Europe or the big city than at home with them.
When she was home, she tried balancing her time between being a good wife, an attentive friend to her friends who needed an ear to listen to and a shoulder to cry on, and a good and attentive mother to him. She was the only parent who showed him any kind of affection, unlike his dad who didn't even understand the meaning of the word.
Even though she did try her best, he knew his mom didn't understand him, no matter how much she tried reaching out. Troy could tell by the hurt in her eyes and the irritated glare his dad would give him after he saw the look, they both thought it was his fault. Maybe it was, but then again she was the one who choose to work so much and so far away. According to her, the reason for this was, "I just need to take a breather from home, Troy. Nothing's wrong with a little me time from time to time."
He was fifteen at the time when he asked her why she was so out so much. And when he nodded, accepting her answer, he knew there was more to the story. Another important she kept buried in her eyes and in her heart, where she felt it was best to left it there.
"Hope it's on important things. Like getting good grades, practicing hard, and impressing scouts." His dad, always a big help, said and took a sip of his water. He gave him a cool gaze that read Not to mention making sure you don't make me look like an idiot, idiot.
"Right, dad, like I can actually make you look like an idiot. You do a good job of that on your own." Troy longed to say those words. The words were right there, at the tip of his tongue, ready to lash out. But he forced himself to keep quiet and swallow those words.
He picked at his food instead.
"So," His mom glanced at her husband, whose steely gaze was burning holes into her son's forehead, and over at her son, who kept his head down at his plate. Tension hovered over their heads, thickening the air. She fidgeted with a lock of her hair and tried to think of a way to break the tension. Once she had the idea, she smiled at her son and said "How was school, dear?"
Great way to break the tension, Mom. That was always her first and only resort to break the ice.
"Alright, I guess." Troy answered. "I pretty much aced my History test, got an A on my Chemistry test, did well on my French paper-"
"And talk back to me during practice." His dad cut him off.
His mother looked over at her husband and his stern eyes, then over at her son with his head still down but looked noticeably sheepish. Troy choosing not to look her in the eye confirmed. She gasped in shock as if such a thing wasn't and couldn't be possible. Her shock quickly turned into annoyance, and she frowned at him "Troy Alexander Bolton. I know you weren't raised to behave like that."
He couldn't believe she was taking his dad's side. Well, actually, he could believe it because usually she did, but it still hurt she took his side so quickly without listening to his reasons first. Before he had a chance to defend himself, his dad charged in, saying "I know, Lucille, I know. He's a Bolton for God's sake, but he chooses act like an idiot. The kid is not focus. He seems to miss the big picture."
His parents then talked about what could make such a boy, who's been blessed with everything, act such a way. They blamed it on reality TV, rappers and the horrible music teens choose to listen to, even threw in his friends who might be influencing him. Like Sharpay for being so dramatic and demanding. Taylor for being a Miss-know-it-all with her smart mouth that was ready to talk back. Jason for being…well, Jason. And even Chad, his co-captain, his best friend since preschool, was named by his father because he didn't take life as serious as he should.
They were so wound up in their conversation on what was wrong with their son, they barely noticed their son gotten up from the table and left them in the dining room.
Once he was upstairs in his room, the first thing he did was to lock the door. His dad was the on who made the rule against locking doors, in case there was an emergency and they needed easy access. But today he needed it lock, because he needed some kind of wall against his dad.
A physical one, at least. The mental and emotional one he already had covered.
Taking in a slow, deep breath he let out slowly, Tory ran his hand through his hair, a habitat he always does whenever he was nervous. Or overwhelmed like he was right now. He moved slowly across his room, making his way over to the massive book collection behind his computer and laptop, where pictures stood on the shelves. Dozens of pictures he developed and framed.
Pictures of his friends mostly. Few of his parents, although they were more of his mom than his dad. Moments he wanted to capture during everyday life. And one particular picture that never failed to hit him hard whenever he dared looked at it.
Slowly he reached for it and held it front of him. He held the framed picture so delicately, as if it could shatter into pieces any second.
He was only eleven when he developed it, his very first picture. The picture was blurry, due to the way he rushed to take the picture and develop it, but still he was proud just the same. In the picture, there was him at eleven, smiling big but looking up, his dad at the far right corner, who looked bored to tears, and a young man in the middle with ocean-blue eyes, chestnut hair, and whose smile was the brightest out of them all.
"No matter what, Troy, nothing could break the M.T bond."
"You promise, Mike?" Even at eleven, he still had his reasons to do doubt and hope.
All it took was a one smile from smile, a smile so sure and bright, which took away the doubt and assured the hope. "Always. I'll never leave you, Troy."
"I'll never leave you, Troy." Those words echoed inside his head, their dark shadow lurking over him and setting a heavy pain inside his heart.
"Funny how promises can't always pull through, huh, Mike?"
The guilt, the pain, the demons never failed to hit him each time he's reminded of Mike. Not just now, but today at school, when Sharpay had to call him out all because he wasn't in the time to waste his year. Whenever memories were reminded, all he sees in that moment are two cars colliding, spinning out of control, glass shattering and showering like shiny rain, and pain hitting him like he was punched everywhere more than millions of times.
Troy could already feel tears gathering in his eyes as he looked on at the picture, his mind going back to that day. Flashes of a car that was driving easily down the street and another, all of the sudden, crashing against the side, glass and blood flying and pooling all around, Mike's easy smile wearying off into pure terror before everything then went black.
Stop, he commanded himself. He needed to stop before everything comes tumbling down. Before he starts to lose himself again.
Putting the photo back to where it was and titling it off a certain angel till it couldn't be seen, Troy took a minute to rub his eyes hard and gather himself together. He had to get over it. The past was the past, and, as his dad always said, there was no better way of dealing with it then forgetting. It was exactly what he needed to do.
He looked over the mountain of textbooks and notebooks resting on his coffee table, with notes cards and binders opened and all spread over. There was always so much homework given, but barely time to have it all done in one day.
He seated himself upon his black leather, soft couch and gotten himself comfortable. It was apparently worth ten thousand, and his mom gotten for him at his late birthday, along with the complete set and black and gray coffee table to match it. He looked over at the twenty five pages worth of notes he taken in French class today he needed to memorize for another quiz, at the opened Calculus textbook page where there were twenty problems he had do and show all the work. Each problem was going to take at least an hour so to do.
His dad says he was losing focus, but he really didn't have a friggering clue. He says he needed to pull his head from the clouds, but had no idea there was no such things in his world other than his goals. If he was so lazy like he was claimed to be, then he wouldn't be killing himself. Killing himself to do amazing in all his AP classes and staying the top of his class, wouldn't bother working so hard and studying so late so he can get impressive grades, wouldn't be trying to balance school and basketball if he wasn't so determined to get the hell out of college and move far away from him.
Troy longed for the day when he can just look his dad right in the eye and yell at him unless his lungs died out or his voice officially broke. Every single time when his dad yells at him, pushes him harder, and belittles him, he wants to scream how he was an asshole, that he was so sick of him, and stick it to his face the way he did every chance he got. But to do such a thing would mean getting on Dad's bad side because he broken a rule.
Broken rule = furious dad. Furious dad= dead man Troy. That was one equation he was more than happy to avoid at all cost. After all, he barely survives his dad's annoyed side. If he were to ever meet furious dad, he'll be erased from history.
He sighed, taking a break from his studies and thoughts, taking in a deep breath as he ran his hands through his hair. Letting emotion get in the way wasn't worth the risk, no matter how furious his dad made him.
"Sometimes rules are meant to be broken, pup."
He frowned at himself, allowing the words to sink in for a bit before shaking himself hard to be rid of them. What the hell was he thinking? What the hell was shethinking?
Gabriella Montez had absolutely no idea what the hell she was talking, because she didn't have a clue. Although Troy doesn't know her personally, he survived high school enough to know her type. Smart-mouthed, lazy, likely to drop out soon enough if the school doesn't expel her first.
Despite what his friends said about him having a crush, he knew better. He stared at her a couple of times. So what? She was pretty. Ok, morethan just pretty, but that wasn't the point.
She was an obstacle that could possibly block him if he allowed it. Another bystander he planned to ignore, if not tolerate.
That was the case. He was sure of it.
So, why then couldn't he stop thinking about her?
Over at Starbucks on Wayward Street, business was slow. Only about three or so customers came in for a late night run, with several employees taking last minute orders or cleaning up the place.
If anyone were to ask the employees how they felt about working there, half would say they don't mind and the other that they wanted out.
If someone were to ask a certain raven-haired employee, she was it was neutral. She's not crazy about working, but it was better than being broke. Besides the job had it perks: the pay was affair, the hours she could work into her schedule, and there were certain benefits to working there.
Take for example, spending half of break hour, having some somewhere.
She pulled away from him long enough to catch her breath, but quickly found herself being shoved against the wall, her body pinned down and lips crashed against hers, kissing her fervently. One hand traveled to her back, creeping underneath her tank top and stroking her bare back. His other hand landed on her left thigh, stroking her skin.
He wasn't the only one doing exploring. His shirt was long gone, being stripped off by her and tossed somewhere, and her hands moved up and down his chest. She went especially slow to get a pleading, pleasurably reaction from him, and the way he pressed himself more against her and moaned more in her mouth told her he loved it but wanted more.
She pulled back again to catch her breath, but he refused to let it end so soon. He decided to try his own torment on her, attacking her neck with sweet lips and moving both hands over to the front, kneading her breasts and brushing against them repeatedly in such a way her nipples quickly hardened.
"Oh good God!" she breathed, titling her head back. She closed her eyes in pure bliss, her petite body trembling. If this was torture, then please, dear God, bring on the pain. "I needed this."
Nothing like a good, hot make-out session in the backroom to take her mind off things. It was also the best way to spend her last thirty minutes of break.
Of course, it helps her kissing partner is an amazing kisser who knows how to please her.
She grabbed his face and kissed him, smiling against his lips as their tongues battled. While kissing, she took a peek over at the clock. According to time, her break needed ten minutes ago and she needed to get back to work.
Sighing, Gabriella pushed him away, needing nearly all her strength to do so because things were about to heavy and he was really into it. She then straightened herself up, fixing her hair and her clothes. Some employees may come to the back room while they were checking stock or on their break to hookup, but it didn't mean Mr. Boss Man was going to be thrilled seeing them disheveled and flushed when they come out.
Once Gabriella was sure she looked decent, she turned back, feeling a pair of eyes burning into the back of her hand. She smiled at the irritated, dark glare he shot her. "Don't hate the kisser, Robbie, hate the timing. Besides, you look like an old man when you frown."
He glared at her, arms crossed and irritation shown in his eyes, but she continued to smile. She watched a small twitching quivering at the corner of lip, tugging at the left corner, and soon a smiled blossomed. He never was one to stay annoyed for too long, which was one of the things she loved about him. "You know you can be such a bitch sometimes."
She smirked. "Better a bitch than a jackass player."
For that comment, he shoved her playfully, a shove she playfully and firmly returned right back. One shoved turned into another, then another, then another, erupting into a shoving fight Robbie ended by seizing her arms and kissing her before she could protest.
She allowed herself to respond to the kiss, but quickly freed herself and pulled before their tongues could meet again. They were late enough as it is. And grabbing her and distracting her with a kiss was cheating, and he knew it, too.
"Bitch." She stuck her tongue out at him.
"You know you want me, baby." He winked flirtatiously and she couldn't resist laughing.
Robert "Robbie" Lewis was a fellow Starbucks employee. He was originally from Boston, but came down to Albuquerque because he won a full-paid scholarship to one of the local community colleges. Aside from going to classes and turning in hundreds of papers, he worked most double shifts to pay for his small apartment, which were right in her neighborhood. They were only two houses down from each other.
He was twenty-two years old, African-American, and would be as one as describe as "hot chocolate", extra on the hot. Lean and tall, well built with gorgeous abs, a handsome face with none of the baby-cute fatness and chocolate brown eyes that could make a girl's heart stop with one stare.
He was also the closest thing to a best friend she had in this shit-hole own, besides Anita. They had the same taste in nearly everything from books to movies, the only one she can take both seriously and make her laugh at the same time, was a incredibly dancer whose skills matched her own, and, when they were together, it was endless fun. Sometimes their close friendship becomes even closer when they needed a distraction and were allowed to certain benefits.
Arms wrapped around each other's shoulders, they left the backroom and smiled innocently at the dark glare their short, overweight manager, Randy gave them as they passed by. It took them everything they had to keep walking and not burst into laughter.
Gabriella went back to the register, taking twelve more orders. On a full moon, the customer would be content enough to toss spare change in the tip jar. Rarely, did she ever see a dollar bill in the bill. But she wouldn't go as far as to say she was often empty-handed during her shifts. The male customers always threw in their phone numbers in her and winked as she passed them their order.
She'd look over at the jar and smile, and the smile of his face would broaden. Then as soon as the guy was out of sight, still wearing the smile, she tossed it in the trash.
While she was busy up there, Robbie went around the small café, loading left over dishes and trash into the tray and collecting the very few tips customers would leave behind. Money tips were quite a rarity for him, too, but he got plenty of phone numbers from female customers who'd take an interest in them.
She watched, amused, as her friend flirted with a cute strawberry blonde, who was long done with her mocha combo but waited anxiously for him to come to her table. Blondie, in no time, was twirling her finger as she blushed, looking away but smiling, as Robbie leaned in close to her, wearing his confident smile Gabriella had seen won the hearts of millions of girls.
"Maybe if you're not busy later, we can have some fun back at my place." he suggested, which predictably the blonde accepted in two seconds flat with an eager nod and smile.
See it, bait, and you have it.Robbie's surefire way of getting girls that never failed.
The girls loved Robbie and Robbie loved girls. Her friend may be what one would call a player, but he was more of the respectable type. He may be a man whore who sleeps with thousands of girls, but he wasn't perverted. He let girl know right up the front it was all fun and nothing serious, treats her with respect and a lady all throughout, and doesn't share X-rated details with his friends other than the fact he had sex.
He was like her: loves the fun, but doesn't share info.
By eleven, Gabriella clocked out and was ready to go. She nodded bye to Robbie, hopped onto her Harley, and rode off home.
By the time she was upstairs to the she shared with her brother and his apartment and came inside; she immediately knew something was up.
Everything was quiet, too quiet, and she could smell smoke. Peering inside the living room, she saw her brother, Javier, lounging on the chair in the living room, staring at the TV and chain-smoking, the dark frown on his face indicating he was not happy.
She was in trouble.
If she was any other person, she would have panicked and tried seeing if she could sneak out before she was seen. Only she wasn't any other person, she was her. There was little point to doing that since he probably heard her come in and she might as well face the music.
She went into the living room and leaned against the TV set. Her brother took no notice of her, just staring at the TV set and smoking his cigarette. Curious, she sneaked a peek and saw it was off. If Gabriella wanted to play the usual annoying sister role, she'd made a comment to him how the TV needed to be on in order for him to watch it. Taking it one step further, she'd reminded of his no indoor-smoking rule, for Paco's sake. But seeing his still form and chain smoking she knew better.
She was in a shit load of trouble.
Finally, with a stab of his cigarette into the ashtray, he lifted his head up, dark eyes meeting dark eyes.
"Why the fuck do you do this? Is it funny?" he asked. "Some kind of fucking joke?"
Gabriella frowned, returning his glare with her own that was ten times darker and colder. Maybe she should have teased him when she had the chance. "What the fuck did I do?"
"Don't play dumb, Gabriella. I'm not in the mood," he sneered. The way his free hand gripped so tightly onto the arm rest, it was all too clear he was trying not to lose it. "I thought to myself this morning, there's no way she's going to screw this up. There's no way Gabriella can be that stupid or careless. Boy was I such a fucking idiot."
Despite the tension in the air, Gabriella did little to resist rolling her eyes. She saw how that simple gesture made anger flare in his eyes, which made her roll her eyes again. "For fuck's sake, Javier, its only school. It's not my fault you sent me to a school full of assholes. It's no big deal."
"No big deal," Javier repeated, and after staring at her for a moment, nodded his head, absorbing her words. Suddenly he shot up from the chair, control completely gone and anger fuming. "It's a big fucking deal.More than you know so don't even pretend. Ms. Teeter's been riding up both our asses, waiting for any excuse she can find."
Gabriella scowled at the name. Ms. Teeter was, in one word, a bitch. A snooty, uptight bitch she hated almost as much as Javier hated her.
"She's not going to find out-" Javier cut her off, his voice growing louder the angrier he became.
"Of course she'll find out! And when she does, there's nothing I can do. I don't think you realize how much I and Anita are killing ourselves right now," Pointing at the second door, on the left side, in the hallway, where inside her nephew, Paco, was fast asleep, he yelled. "We have a baby now! A son to take care of. We have to worry about extra food and clothes, diapers, soon nursery school, etc. With a teenage girl now on our shoulders, we have to worry about high school and college. If we can even afford it. Add that to rent and bills, we have to find shifts to work every chance we get to pay for all this shit!"
"Screw you!" she shouted at him. "I could live on my own then."
"Right," Javier snorted, looked at her, and gave the infamous Montez's smile. It was an odd smile, half pitying, half sarcastic, and bitter amusement thrown in between. Gabriella wanted to punch his teeth in, seeing that smile. "Because that was working out so well before."
"Screw you!" she screamed, but he continued on like he didn't hear her.
"Or, even better, move back with Mom."
Never was she gladder she was wearing her shades, otherwise he'd see the shocked, wide-eyed look on her face. She sucked in her breath, paralyzed. That was the lowest blow, a big smack to her face that stung hotly.
He knew it, too. Understood how much it affected her, how much it hurt, but still he said it.
While she was shaken on the inside and mentally flinched, on the out she remained her cool stare. "Well, at least I don't break a promise and walk away."
The anger in his eyes were no longer mild or even fuming, they were the heart of the fire itself and furiously engaged. She knew she struck him hard right back where it hurt. Angrily glaring at her, his eyes were cold enough to freeze a heart and kept their gaze locked on her as he took a step forward. Before a word could utter from him, a loud wail cut him off. It came from Paco's bedroom, where the baby was wide awake and reacting to the yelling.
Javier glanced at the room, then over at Gabriella. The look he gave her was a combination between As if I didn't have enough to deal with and Now look what you did. Swearing at her under his breath, he went to see about his soon, missing the evil-eye and screw-you finger Gabriella shot him from behind.
By the time Javier came back into the room, with his son asleep again after a quick diaper change and lullaby, Gabriella had her back turned to him, staring straight ahead while feeling his eyes set on her. She could feel his eyes gazing at her, possibly debating whether or not to come closer to her.
He finally closed the distance between them and wrapped his arms around her. For a moment, limp in his arms, neither returning nor pulling away from the hug, she was debating what she should do. She was still furious with him for saying what he said, so furious she could throw a swing to his jaw that'd knock him off cold. But in the end, she laid her head on his arm, deciding it was the best thing she could do.
"You know I love you, right?" he murmured. "Right?"
She nodded. "Love you, too."
Yeah, they fought. Sure, they lash out at each other and get under the other's skin, saying the lowest things or doing the worst. But they had something most siblings now didn't: a close bond that easily wiped the slate clean, all forgiven and forgotten, because no matter what they always knew they had each other's back.
Though the hug ended soon, they didn't pull away from each other. Javier spun her body around, hugged her properly for the longest time, and slowly pulled her back as he placed his hands on her shoulders.
"For what it's worth, I'm really glad you're here." he said.
All she could do was nod.
"I'm serious, Gabs. I'm really glad you're here," he sighed to himself. "I know it hasn't been easy for you over the years. Considering what happened-"
"Don't!" Javier, like any typical brother no matter how good he was, crossed the lines with her plenty of times when they fought. Unlike the others, with the expectations of what he said before during their last fight, this was one were she drew the final, big line. Thankfully, for his sake as well as hers, he didn't cross it, respecting her wishes.
"Point being I love having you here." he smiled. It was the same brotherly smile full of warmth and protective affection, she remembered growing up, never failed to make her smile back at him. Even now she could feel a small smile tugging on her lips.
"I know."
All too soon he was gone and she was left, unsure what to do. She looked down at the twenty her brother slipped into her hand before he left, arching her eyebrow.
First things first.
A little over an hour and a half later, with two pepperoni and chicken pizzas she ordered from Domino's as dinner Gabriella was in bed. She ate nearly all the pizzas, saving few slices for breakfast in the morning, watched her all time favorite movie, SweeneyTodd, on their DVD player that cost her three paychecks, and soon hit the hay when it gotten really late. After checking on Paco and seeing the cutie snugged tight in his bed, she went to her room, where she changed into her comfy pajamas and got into bed.
She held a lit Marlboro in one hand and her one of her favorite books, Lock and Key,smoking and reading. It was her number two to her top ten favorite books because the author really knew her stuff, the story related to her, and she and the main character Ruby were almost the same. Like Ruby, she was taught to stand on her own feet alone in this cold world.
Halfway through the book, reading where Ruby and Nate crossed paths again at the same school, Gabriella lowered her book and thought back to what she was said to Javier about her new school. About it being a school full of assholes.
She was right, of course. She didn't need to be in school for ten minutes to know it was a shithole.
Except for one thing.
Pup.
All of kids were staring at her in school today, at every class she was in. Especially at homeroom, where everyone was trying to figure out who she was, including him. But there was something about him, something off, that made him stand out in her radar. Maybe it was because he was the only one who had the guts to meet her gaze and not be easily intimidated. Maybe it was because he talked to her instead of stare. Or maybe…
Gabriella smiled to herself as she shook her head, taking one last drag of her Marlboro before smashing it into the ashtray, lying back on her back.
Making friends wasn't exactly on her agenda list in this new town. Live her brother and get reacquainted with him, go the school and try to graduate, and go to California, where a new chapter in her life can begin. With absolutely no ties, besides the expectation of her family and Robbie, holding her back.
Sighing, she switched off her lamp, pulled the warm blankets over her head, and fell asleep almost instantly.
As she slept, a pair of baby blue eyes stared deep into her eyes. Full of shyness, full of uncertain, yet filled with longing for something beyond his touch.