ET Chapter 24: To be or not be Forsaken
Dear God.
Dear God.
Dear God. Dear God. Dear flipping God.
The phrase bounced around Troy's mind on a rotating loop as he drove home.
He was stunned by the sight of nightfall when he left Gabriella's apartment. It was one in the afternoon when he arrived.
Guess time really does fly, thought the young man half-absently.
Especially when you're passing time with some smooching, said evil.
Not helping!
There was no way they spent that long kissing.
They only kissed for a minute. Or two. Three, tops.
On the other hand, he couldn't deny that he wasn't paying attention to time. The second their lips met, it was as if the world and everything in it slipped away into oblivion.
They were so lost in each other, time was unimportant. For all he knew, they could have spent an hour kissing.
Troy shook his head, got into his car, and drove home, where he was greeted by Jeffery's small smile.
"Good evening, Master Troy," he greeted. "You were gone for quite some time."
Troy was stuck on an explanation. Today was a half day at school, so students got to leave early. On top of that Matsui called for a faculty meeting, meetings which were known to last most of the day. Which meant no basketball practice, and, more importantly, no Jack.
Ordinarily Troy would spend his half days dozing off in bed, trying to get back the lost sleep. But he took the opportunity to go see Gabriella.
He couldn't tell Jeffery though. The man was more so like a father figure to Troy than a butler. He looked after him in ways Jack never did. If he knew Troy was in a rough neighborhood to see a girl who made quite an impression on the Bolton estate, Troy knew he'd be in for a series of lectures followed by thumps to the back of his head.
"I had a few things to take care of." Like apologizing, getting around by two Montezes, kissing, ending with him getting kicked out.
Suffice to say he had an interesting day.
Troy's face went hot as he thought about the kissing. The hot kissing, the searing touches. He hoped Jeffery wouldn't look too much into his redden face. "I had a lot of things to do."
Jeffery looked at him with a gleam in his eye, as if he somehow knew what those things include. Troy decided it was the best time to change the subject.
"Did anything happen while I was gone?"
"More than several things actually. Your mother sends you the usual seven-dozen package load from her travel," The man smiled a bit, catching the eye-roll Troy was trying to hide. "This week she bought you a number of items from Milan."
Instead of a note or even a phone-call, Troy thought with another eye-roll. Thanks mom.
Jeffery continued on. "You have a total of thirteen messages from your friends. Miss Evans wanted me to remind you of your annual weekend at their lake house after winter break,"
Of course Sharpay would. Never mind the fact she told him twenty times already.
"And…your father has a visitor."
Troy was nodding off most of what Jeffery was saying, dismissing them, until he noticed how Jeffery's voice trailed off, tinged with unhidden disapproval. "Who is it?"
He heard the laughter before he saw her. The same husky, raspy laughter he had grown up listening to through a series of dinners, meetings at the country club, and parties.
No way, he thought in disbelief.
His suspicions were confirmed as she came down the stairs, walking unsteady steps as if both her legs suffered from limps, trying unsuccessfully to straighten out her rumpled clothes. Her sleek black hair was disheveled, as if it was in a battle of a hands-on tornado. Her pale-porcelain complexion was stamped with thick hickeys going from her neck, which sported about several, going down into her chest. Her lips were wiped clean of her lipstick and swollen red from what Troy could guess too many kisses.
Mrs. Lincoln, wife to Mr. Lincoln, who has been his dad's best friend since college. Mrs. Lincoln, who was his mom's business partner. Mrs. Lincoln, who has been his mom's best friend since high school.
No fucking way.
His dad soon came down the stairs in nothing but his favorite red robe, holding a half-empty glass of Jack Daniels. Swallowing his drink, he tossed the glass against the wall, not caring of the mess he caused. He grabbed the woman into his arms and attacked her neck with kisses, paying no attention to her laughing protests.
"Jack, stop it," she pleaded half-heartedly. She then moaned as he kissed her sweet spot, titling her head back, granting him more access. "I have so much work to do."
"It can easily wait till later." He nibbled at her ear.
Mrs. Lincoln both laughed and moaned. "That may be so, but what about dinner? It's mine turn to cook tonight."
"There's this wonderful thing called take-out." Jack un-buttoned her blouse, giving the two observers an unwanted view of her ice-blue frilly bra.
"Well I suppose I could-Troy!"
Without even flinching, Troy watched as Mrs. Lincoln pulled away from his dad and fixed her shirt, her face flushing from pleasure to embarrassment.
At least she had the decency to look embarrassed. His dad stood still and stared back at them, his eyes cool and unforgiving.
"I-we-this shouldn't-"Mrs. Lincoln cut herself off, realizing her rambling was worsening things. "It was just a friendly business meeting. And such."
"Emphasis on the friendly." Jeffery dryly commented. Mrs. Lincoln flinched. Jack looked like he wanted to struggle the man with his own tie.
"I'll just…bye." Grabbing her purse and jacket from Jeffery's hands, she couldn't walk out the door fast enough.
His dad didn't acknowledge the scene that just took place. He was too much of a bastard to do such a thing. Turning to Jeffery, he said "I suggest, unless you rather join your fellow bums-of-ghetto-brothers at the unemployment line, you stop staring and do your job. Clean up this mess, have Doris and the girls change my sheets, and grab me another bottle of Jack Daniels."
"His sheets" meaning his bed. Meaning the room he shared with Troy's mom. He didn't even have to decency to do his nasty business with his best friend's wife in one of the guest rooms.
Jack scowled when he turned to Troy, displeased at his son's lingering presence. It was a scowl Troy knew had been on Jack's face since the day he was born. "Shouldn't you be somewhere?"
Troy scowled right back at him, feeling anger and irritation, growing and twisting inside him. "Shouldn't you be faithful?"
He couldn't tell which one was more stunned by his remark. His dad who froze in place while heading back to his office or Jeffery, who looked up while he was sweeping up the broken glass.
Which was? He wasn't sure. He did, though, know which one that gave him a hard, stinging slap across the face.
Troy sucked in his breath as the blood rushed to his cheek, welcoming the familiar pain.
His dad pointed a warning finger at him, and it took all of Troy's willpower not to spit in his face. "You better be thanking your fucking lucky stars that I'm too buzzed to put up with your bullshit. Otherwise I'd get out my belt and show you what happens to smart-asses."
Troy stared at his dad for a second or two, gritting his teeth hard to hold in all the insults and remarks trying to break free. He finally looked down, unable to withstand those hollow, glassy eyes that stared back at him.
"Will one of you goddamn fucking idiots get me a fucking drink?" Jack roared his voice loud and scary enough to scare away the birds that were hanging on the roof. "God knows I'm praying you enough."
"Not nearly enough." Jeffery murmured after Jack left.
Jeffrey turned to Troy, silent as he examined him, facial expression nearly expressionless if it weren't for his eyes that gave him away. Eyes that told Troy, if he had it his way, Jack Bolton would be serving twenty years for child abuse. Eyes that told him if he didn't need the money so much or if Jack didn't have something grave over his head, he'd tell him where to stick it with a well-deserved punch. Eyes that told him if he really wanted, if he was in grave fear that his life was in danger, and then he would take Troy away.
That was always the message Jeffery's eyes told him when he looked at him like that. Troy only had to say the word, and he'd be far away from his hellhole.
Every time he saw it, Troy was tempted to say yes. He wanted more than anything to be far away from here, from Jack, from the ghosts that loved to torment him, from the scoffing prison his house was becoming.
And every time he remembered the consequences it would mean for not just him, but for Jeffery as well, if Jack found them. It's not even if; when he found them, Troy knew leaving would be one of the biggest regrets of his life.
Sighing, he gently shook his head and gave Jeffery a small smile.
Jeffery looked disappointed, but he didn't comment on his decision. If they were anyone else who knew why he couldn't just leave, it was him. "Shall I send you an ice-pack with some Tylenol, sir?"
"Advil would be better. With some lemon-twist water."
"I'll have Marilia bring it up."
Troy nodded and took the elevator upstairs. Instead of going to his room, where a large pile of homework, study-guides, and papers awaited him, he went to his dark room, deciding to pour all his frustration into his pictures.
There was no question he was pissed. Actually, he wasn't pissed. He was furious. He knew his dad was capable of doing really slimy, unbelievable things, but he never would have guesses that he could stoop down so low. He couldn't believe he would actually do that to his mother. With her god-damn best friend, wife to his best friend.
Yet as on the other hand, should he really be surprised? As in honestly be surprised?
After he had hung up five newly-developed pictures on the line, he stared at the wall blankly, his head whirling with thoughts.
Should he really be surprised that his dad would do something so low? Considering the fact he had done plenty of low things in the part. Troy definitely had the scars to prove that fact.
Sighing in frustration, Troy ran a frustrated hand through his hair.
His parents had the ideal perfect marriage: high sweethearts since junior year, his dad varsity Wildcat captain and his mom head cheerleader. Their love story continuing onto U of A, where they both applied, because really? They were no other person quite as perfect as they were to each other. Fast forward to sophomore year, the year Michael was conceived and his dad was forced to change his career plans, switching from playing on the court to coaching. Yet even then, they happened to maintain the perfect couple status with the grand wedding they threw in the spring.
And now, with more than twenty years of marriage, their friends still believed that they were the same perfect couple that produced the perfect family.
It was clear to Troy that their marriage, in like many things in the house, was all smoke and mirrors. He wondered when exactly that bright, passionate spark his mom always said that kept them together through the years finally burnt out.
Troy wondered if there was a chance his mother was in on the secret. If there was the slightest chance that her husband wasn't as perfect as he seemed, but refused to acknowledge it for her sake.
It wouldn't surprise him if that was the chance. Lucille Bolton was known for not confronting matters if they were too dark or threw off the perfect family façade she spent years building.
She didn't speak up when his dad was pushing an already exhausted Mike to his limits.
She didn't question the heavy liquor reeking from Jack's breath or the glassiness of his pupils.
She didn't say a word about the bruises that were seen through Troy's makeup, despite the several layers he coated on. She didn't say anything about the scars or the number of painkillers he swallowed down.
The situation was so messed up, so sad, it was almost laughable. Laughable in a completely depressing, make-you-wanna-cry way.
Why should you try so hard to be perfect when your so-called "perfect" parents aren't even close to decent, asked his logic side. For once he said like an ally instead of a pain, making a very valid point.
One he always knew, deep down, but didn't want to think about for the sake of his head.
And now…
Troy stared at the pictures, paying close attention to the ones in the center.
The one on the left was of Gabriella engrossed in her book, a cigarette hanging from her lips. The one of the left was of her releasing a cloud of smoke. The one in the center was his personal favorite. It was of her and the wolf from the zoo looking into the camera, their expressions so similar it was like they were the same person.
Gently Troy traced Gabriella's profile, his mind going back to the many conversations they had that afternoon and the many kisses they shared.
After a long, hot shower that did little to settle her mind, Gabriella threw on a white tank top and plaid boy-shorts. She then ran a comb through her damp hair and fixed into a loose braid.
Since the shower did little to relief her mind, she decided to turn to the only place that could easily ease her mind like dancing without requiring much movement: her journal.
Lying flat on her stomach, curled up in her bed, she let everything that was bottled be released in purple ink and paper, unleashing the confused bafflement page after page.
I can say that my brain was still dazed from the alcohol I drank at the Underground last night. Christ knows I still have the lingering hangover to confirm that I was indeed wasted.
I can blame it on the heavy coffee foams I inhaled, thanks to work.
Hell, I will even admit that I hadn't a good lay in awhile and needed a fill.
Funny. Even in her journals, the paragraphs looked like nothing but complete bullshit.
Jesus. Gabriella bit her bottom lip, brushing back loose strands of her hair that were getting into her eyes.
Maybe it was because I was high from the Carmen movie.
I just looked at him and….and-the only thing I can say is that I kind of felt like Carmen at the moment when she was Don Jose were alone, living in their private bubble that kept everything else and everyone out. I felt like I was seeing that thing that made him stand out right there, staring right back at me, drawing me to him.
So I kissed him. I teased him for a bit to get a blush out of him, which I will admit is one of the things I like about him. And then I kissed him.
And then…and then…
Dear friggering Christ, what the hell was wrong with her? Writing was just like dancing to her: effortless, natural, something she could easily do without having to think.
When Javier left, she poured all her energy into dancing and writing. She poured every angry thought, every angst emotion into every step and page. After the accident that went down in October, she spent the nights poring every into her journals.
And…all I can say is fuck.
And I mean that fuck as oh my fuck in the worst possible way.
I mean I'm not Maria. Scratch that. I KNOW I'm definitely not Maria. But I'm also not a prude either. I've hooked up with guys, sometimes was involved with more than one, and few times a girl when I was really drunk. Basically, I've been kissed before. Plenty of times. Most were decent, some cringe-worthy forgettable, and few that were memorable.
Like Rob who, I have to hand it to him, really does know how to make a girl feel hot with his tongue. Julio from the Ungerground, who's good on his feet as he is with his lips. That very delicious French native, Gabriel who gives French Kissing a very delicious definition.
Yet even with those amazing kisses, I never felt that thing before. That weird, tingly thing. Not even with Rob. And that weird tingly thing scares the shit out of me.
It scares me because, no matter how much I don't want to admit it, no matter how much I really wish it wasn't the case, it was good. Really good. Good as in the word "good" doesn't seem to serve what happened justice. Good as in the kind of too-good-to-be that get easily get someone hooked with just kiss.
This is why I'm so scared. A kiss that good can easily get someone addicted. It can make a person want more and more until it completely consumes them.
I know for a good fact that addictions, if not handled correctly or too powerful, can mean a person's downfall. It can render you powerless. Dependent. Weak.
A knocked on the door interrupted her thoughts.
"Gabriella," Anita knocked on the door. "Can I come in?"
She tucked her pen into the page she left off, closed the book, and sat up in her bed. She stared at the door for a second or two before saying "If I say no?"
Anita opened the door and walked in smiling with no shame.
Gabriella rolled her eyes.
"Don't give me that face. Especially when I come baring gifts." Anita presented a chocolate-stuffed-and-drizzled French toast.
Gabriella rolled her eyes again. "Did you make that?"
Anita's hesitation gave her away. Rolling her eyes once more, Gabriella turned back to her journal, dismissing her. Before she could get down a word, Anita snatched her journal.
"Anita," Gabriella didn't turn other because she knew there was a high chance she'd slap her. She was that irritated. Irritated and confused. "Give me back my fucking book."
"I will as soon as you eat," she told her. "You can't let this little argument keep you from eating."
"There's this new invention called take-out. You should try it." Gabriella informed her with a smirk.
Un-amused, Anita placed her journal on her dresser, in front of Mulan. She placed the French toast right in front of her, penetrating Gabriella's vision with the whiff of chocolate, vanilla, and cinnamon.
After staring at the girl in irritation, wishing she wasn't pregnant so she could get smacked, Gabriella finally took the food.
This was Javier's special French Toast that was, other than chocolate, her favorite dessert. Oozing with two bars of Cadbury chocolate he melted inside the bread, sprinkled with cinnamon and vanilla, topped off with whipped cream and pieces of Cadbury. Growing up, her brother made this on special occasions, believing if it was made on a regular basis it'd lose its special taste. He made it on her birthday, the dance rituals where she wowed the audience, the dance rituals he had to miss for his UFC matches.
She used to be able to finish the French toast ten seconds late. Now, every bite that sank down her throat felt like heavy cement.
Five minutes later, she was finally done and swallowed the last bite down, resisting the urge to lick remaining chocolate and cinnamon off the plate. She handed Anita back the plate.
"Now what that so hard?"
Gabriella glared at her. "Anita, you know damn well I'm one for cutting through the bullshit and getting to the point. So allow me to cut to the chase. Javier told you about what happened, didn't he?"
"In a very loud, two-hour long phone call." Anita informed.
Sweet Jesus, she could feel a migraine coming on. Her temples were vibrating in irritation. Gabriella groaned, reaching into her drawer for her cigarettes. Then it hit her that Anita was pregnant, and pregnant women can't around smoke.
Damn it, she thought, trading her cigarettes for gum. Popping two pieces into her mouth, she chewed.
"Is this the same Bolton you told me you were doing a project with?" Anita asked. "The same one you call Pup?"
Gabriella chewed her gum, wishing she was having a cigarette right now.
"I see." She could practically feel Anita's lips curling up.
"No fue nada del otro mundo."
"No fue nada del otro mundo, dice ella. Nada del otro mundo y ella estaba besando con lengua al chico que, aparentemente quiere matar de quinientos mil maneras diferentes. Pero tienes razón no fue nada del otro mundo,"Anita said. "You know to most people if a girl and guy do the tongue-twist tango, it's considered a pretty big deal."
Tongue-twist tango? Gabriella blew out a big, pink bubbled that was deflated in a second. Unfazed, she licked it all back and chewed. "Sure, it would. If this was the fifties, guys were saying "Gee golly," and girls were wearing poodle skirts."
"I happen to like poodle skirts, Miss Smarty Pants."
Gabriella snorted.
Anita rolled her eyes, joined Gabriella on her bed, and asked "So how was it?"
Jesus. What was this actually happening to her? Didn't she suffer enough?
Gabriella could feel that evil migraine smashing pain against her skull like heavy hammers. She really wished she could smoke. "Can we please not do this?"
Anita smirked at her, leaned against the wall, and waited patiently, having no intact of leaving anytime soon.
Yeah, Fate definitely wanted to torture her some more.
"We are not talking about this." Gabriella said.
Anita arched her brow questioningly. "Was it that bad?"
What was it that bad? Gabriella chewed her gum slowly as she thought about the question.
There were many different words she could use to describe that kiss. She wasn't sure bad was one of them. It seemed, despite how much it confused her, harsh to describe it that way.
The kiss was unexpected. It was definitely fucking weird, there's no question about that. Strange in a skin-crawling, body-chilling way. Undoubtedly and unforgettably awful in a, God help her, not so terribly nasty way.
Dear Christ, this whole thing was just one big fucked-up mess. And one monster of a migraine.
Damn you, Bolton, she though angrily.
She was brought back to the present moment as Anita laid a hand on her back, touching the un-clothed part that her tank top didn't cover, gently rubbing it. She was a bit uneasy when she turned around and saw the smile on Anita's face, despite it being soft.
"I know that look," Anita said. "It's the look of someone who received what may be the best kiss from the most out-there guy she met. A kiss that she doesn't even know what to make of it because it's unlike anything she ever experienced in her life.
Gabriella glared at Anita as she chewed her gum, chewing it so hard it was like she was picturing the gum was Troy's head. Anita was lucky Gabriella was mindful of the baby's health because she definitely would have blown a huge smoke cloud into her face.
"You know that glare, along with your silence, is speaking volume."
Gabriella gave her the finger, blowing another big bubble.
Anita sighed, shaking her head. "Gabriella, look at me," She looked intently at the back of Gabriella's head until she finally gave in. "How do you feel about the boy?"
Dear Jesus Flipping Christ. First Javier wanted to talk to her about her feelings. Then Rob wanted to get inside her head when all she wanted to do was fuck. Now Anita wanted her to open up. Since when had her life turned into a Dr. Phil sit-down?
"He's a pup." she said simply, as if there was no more that could be said about him.
"What else?"
A pain in the ass. And a goddamn idiot, Gabriella thought, but she was too tired to tell Anita so.
Sighing again, Anita said "I don't mean what he is, Gabriella. I mean how you feel about him?"
Dear Christ. She'd much rather have that sit-in with Dr. Phil than continue this pointless conversation. Hell, she'd rather face Tweety again than continue with this shit.
"Gabriella," Anita refused to back down. She proved to be just as stubborn as a Montez. "How do you feel about him?"
How did she feel about Bolton?
She honestly felt annoyed by him a good half of the time. Particularly during his idiotic episodes. She was entertained by him forty percent of the time when his idiotic episodes leaned more on the comical side. Sometimes, even embedded in the other times, she-
Hot, overwhelming sensations flooded her body and burnt her skin like a hot flash. She felt light-headed by the sudden feeling.
Dear. God.
"I think you like Gabriella. In fact I think you like him a lot."
Like him? Bolton?
Before she could help herself, Gabriella pulled herself away from Anita's touch, feeling unexpectedly and very much pissed. "Don't be stupid," she scowled her words sharp and biting. "I don't like Bolton. I don't like anyone."
Anita didn't say anything, proving she was starting to know Gabriella well. She knew why the girl did things the way she does them. She knew the way her mind worked. Which was why she moved closer to Gabriella and laid a hand on her shoulder.
"Gabriella, it's all in your head," she told her. "There's nothing wrong with liking someone. Just like there's nothing wrong with letting someone-the right someone-in."
Britney Spears' Work Bitch ended on her iDock, moving onto the next song on her shuffle. Off to The Races by Lana Del Ray.
The beautiful singing behind the sad story reminded Gabriella of Maria.
My old man is a bad man
But I can't deny the way he holds my hand
And he grabs me, he has me by my heart
He doesn't mind I have a Las Vegas past
He doesn't mind I have a L.A crass way about me
He loves me with every beat of his cocaine heart
Beautiful and sad. Just like her mother.
"I did good, papi." Maria smiled.
Gabriella knew she shouldn't be out there. Even at seven, she was a smart girl.
Whenever men came over, especially Scorpion, they had to stay in their room. Javier didn't trust any of them, but he was the one he trusted least of all.
Not that Gabriella could blame him. Scorpion was a man of few words, most of those words communicated through his dark, close-to-black eyes that were any of anything. Of warmth, of empathy, of feeling. Just hollow and empty.
His piercing eyes were one of the things that made him scary. It didn't hurt that he was big, not a fat wide. More so like a football player way that can easily break a bone.
It was different when he came over to the apartment. The smell was always the same when he was there: pot smoke, sex, and cocaine.
But this time, there was a different smell. Chinese take-out.
No way had Maria got that for us, Gabriella thought. She could count the number of times on one hand that Maria left them something in the fridge that wasn't moldy, old, or crumbs.
She looked over at her brother, who was fast asleep beside her, quietly climbed off the bed, and slipped out the door.
Quiet as a mouse, she crotched down by the corner, hiding her from plate sight while giving her a good of the living room.
They were already done fooling around. The air was tinted with the heavily, musky smell of flesh. Scorpion, dressed in nothing but his black boxers, was seated on the couch, smoking a cigarette. His dark skin was covered in a series of black-inked tattoos, his hair was completely shaved off, and head titled back.
Maria was in the kitchen, pulling out a streaming plate of Chinese take-out from the microwave, then pulling out the empty coffee tin she used as a piggy-bank. She threw on her lacy black thong.
Gabriella shuddered at the sight.
"I mean I know I did good. Obviously," Maria looked over her shoulder to give him a wink. Gabriella rolled her eyes at the smugness rolling off her tongue. "But I really did good."
Scorpion watched her as she placed the Chinese food in front of her. She emptied the can, dropping a dozen hundred dollar bills and two fifties.
Taking a long drag of his cigar, Scorpion barely glanced at the money. He focused on Maria. "That's all?"
Maria nodded.
"You didn't give anybody a free pass, did you?"
Maria chuckled. "Don't be ridiculous."
Scorpion stared at her.
The longer he stared, the more Gabriella could see Maria's smile became less ridiculous and more panicky.
"I swear, papi." she said.
Gabriella watched Maria climb onto his lap, wrapping her arms around his neck, pressing her naked chest against his.
"You know that's only one man that gives free access to my goodies." She smiled before leaning in for a kiss.
Bamf-a-rama. Gabriella nearly gagged.
Maria was so lost in the kiss, slipping her tongue inside his mouth and smiling against his lips, that she didn't see the stinging slap that knocked her right to the ground.
Any trace of disgust was wiped away instantly by the slap. The sight paralyzed Gabriella, making her unable to move or look away.
"You must really think I'm stupid, don't you?" Scorpion demanded.
Maria whimpered, pressing a hand against her swollen cheek.
Scorpion scowled and kicked her in the stomach. Hard.
"Ugh." Maria cried out in pain.
"You think you're a clever girl, don't you? You think I wouldn't find out about you hanging around Carlos."
Carlos. Gabriella knew the man. He was the only other man who was just as creepy-maybe, even a bit more than-Scorpion.
"It was just a blow-job. I swear," Maria pleaded. "And he paid me with a quart of coke. So it wasn't a freebie. I was paid."
"You goddamn little bitch."
"It wasn't a freebie, papi. I swear. You're the only one I love. You're the only one who gets me for free-"
Scorpion silenced her with a punch to the jaw that knocked her back down.
Gabriella swallowed a nervous lump.
"Course I can get you for me. Any damn man can get you for free. God knows you're fucking cheap," Scorpion barked at her. "You really are a piece of work, Maria. I take of care. I'm good to you. All I ask is that you're completely honest with me, and loyal to me. Christ knows I could have easily let you rot after Riff dumped your ass."
Maria whimpered, sounding like she was close to tears. Gabriella wasn't sure if it was because of the insults or at the jab of her former love.
"I take pity of this poor, sixteen year old girl with a kid. A baby for Christ's sake. So out the goodness of my heart, I take her under my wing. She's beautiful, she's young, so I thought she could be useful. I get her a better-paying job. I let her keep a generous twenty-five percent of her earnings. I supply her all the drugs she needs. And then I find out from some clown that she's been messing around with others. People I didn't say you can fuck. Practically spitting in the face of that generosity."
"It was just a blow-job. I needed a hit. It was a bad week-"
Scorpion got her up on her feet by yanking her hair. "I'm your supplier, bitch. You got that? Your one and only supplier. The next time I find out you're fucking around with Carolos or any other clown without my say-so, a bad week is going to be the least of your problems."
"Please." Her voice cracked. Tears streamed leaked from her eyes like a broken faucet, starting at a slow pace before falling hard.
Scorpion glared at her for a second longer, tossed her to the ground as if she were nothing, and collected his things.
"No!" Maria bellowed, watching him heading to the door. She crawled over to him and wrapped her arms around his legs, clinging to him in a desperate manner like that of a child. "Please don't leave me, papi. I love you. I love you."
Gabriella knew that Javier was behind her. She felt his presence before he covered her mouth and carried her back to their room, locking the door behind them. She could still hear mother's sobbing and begging.
"What part of "'stay in room when ass comes over'" do you not understand?" Javier asked, pissed off.
Gabriella didn't respond. Her mind was still stuck on what happened. How weak her mother was. She crawled on the bed, grabbed her Barbie pillow, and held it tight against her chest.
Javier noticed her silence and was alarmed by it, his anger completely forgotten. He sat beside her, and pulled her against his chest. She nestled her head against him, her head spinning with thoughts.
"Javi?"
"Yeah, kid?"
"Why does she let him do that to her?"
Javi sighed. He did that deep, down to the bone sigh that made you feel instantly tired when it was released. "Because our mother is weak."
Gabriella looked up at him. Javi brushed back her hair, offering her a small, half smile that came and left his lips.
"Maria's too weak to take care of herself. She's always been that way. The old man who brought her here took care of her before he left her. My father took care of her. Now Scorpion's the new care-taker. But with him, it's different, Ella. He's not just a care-taker. He's her boss. He has complete control of her, so he can do whatever he wants to her. Love her, beat her, share her. Whatever. It doesn't matter."
That didn't sound like love at all. Not like the kind of love she read in her books or seen in Disney movies. That sounded more like the type of life the characters tried to avoid.
"Do you think she really loves him?" Gabriella wondered.
Javi thought carefully of his answer. "I think," he finally said. "That she knows she definitely needs him. A hell lot more than he needs her. She thinks she's the only one, but the truth is there are more than four other girls he's…well handling. Still, she knows it's too late to walk away because he has control over her. I also think she knows that he's her only provider. I know that she depends on him. So, it's possible that she's convinced that what she has is love."
A bad kind of love, Gabriella thought. "I'll never be like that."
Javi smiled, patting her head. "I know you won't, Ella. You're nothing like Maria. You're so strong. You won't let anything-even messed-up emotions-make you weak.
"I love you, papi." she could hear mother saying over and over again. "Please don't leave me."
"Gabriella?" Anita called out. "Gabriella?"
She spared a quick glance at Anita before returning her vision back to her dresser, the spot she had been staring while her mind was away.
"You know why she cared so much about the bastard?" Gabriella didn't bother to wait for a response. "He was Riff's-Javier's father's-best friend. Besides my brother, he was the only link she had left of him."
Anita was silent. Gabriella wasn't sure if it was because she was stunned or this wasn't new information to her and she just wanted Gabriella to tell it.
"According to Javier, Scorpion wasn't even that bad in the beginning. He came over to the apartment a lot after Riff bailed to make sure Maria didn't drink herself to an early grave. Or OD'd. To get in the middle of things when Maria was highly stoned with cocaine and wanted to have Javi's head. He protected him. He was able to keep her at bay. He kept an eye on Javi whenever she had to work a late shift at the strip club. He also did fun things with him. Took him to the park. Got him into boxing, because he felt everyone deserved the right to punch. Javi told me it was almost like having a dad."
"Then what happened?"
Gabriella shrugged. "Scorpion thought Maria was wasting her all her talent stripping and grinding against perverts for money. Around the time, he had started his own business. In two months, the business went from being a small thing in the neighborhood to a very big thing, bringing in lots of money. He had a soft spot for her. Well, at least back then. He told her she could share in the success, be his little queen if she wanted in. Maria accepted. And things were good for a while. She quit her job, got to spend most of her days sleeping and drinking. Scorpion handled the bills, the food, got her designer clothes, and took them out to expensive dinners at fancy restaurants. And just like that," She snapped her fingers. "It all went away,"
"Javier told me it happened a year or two before I came along. It was after the three of them had stuffed their faces at some place in SoHo. Scorpion kissed my brother goodnight and sent him off to bed. He woke later to hear them arguing, and came out to investigate. Scorpion needed Maria to do him a favor. He got mixed up in some bad business and needed a way out. He needed our mother to soften the dude up, if she knew what he meant."
Anita cocked her head, listening intently.
"Maria refused, completely offended. She told him, and this I find so fucking funny, that she wasn't some cheap whore. Scorpion didn't like that. He didn't like that one bit. He said if she really loved him, she'd do him this favor. She yelled she wouldn't do it. Scorpion then slapped her so hard in the face that Javier flinched. While she was lying on the floor crying, Scorpion said he could see why Riff left her. She was nothing more than a cheap thrill that couldn't deliver. He was nearly out the door till Maria stopped him by shouting. Shouting yes, she'll do it. Yes, she loved him. She'd do anything for him. She begged him not to leave her,"
Gabriella laughed her soft and brittle laughter that made it clear she wasn't laughing because she found it funny. "And so the great love story ended. Maria's prince turned into a devil. It started off with one guy. Then one guy became three. Three became ten. Ten became more, way more. Pretty soon my mother went from taking off her clothes for her clients to fucking them. And all for three reasons." Gabriella shot one finger up. "For drugs because she was always in need for a fix," Her second finger shot up. "For money." Her third finger went up. "Her desperate need to have someone in her life. Even if he gave her more black eyes than kisses."
Anita took a deep breath and let it out slowly, taking in everything she learned. After a minute or two, she finally said "Gabriella, your mother….she wasn't a right woman."
Gabriella snorted. That was the understatement.
"Let me finish," Anita said. "She wasn't right. She did horrible things all for the wrong reasons. She never stood up for herself. She never decided to take matters into her own hands. She trusted the wrong people. But you are not her. Gabriella, you've never been her and never will be. You're strong. You don't rely on anyone but yourself. You're independent. But I feel like that wall of yours is going to be your downfall."
"The fuck are you talking about?" Gabriella demanded.
"The wall you use to keep everyone out. Your way of holding everyone at an arm-length. Even Rob and I are held at arm length with you half the time, and you know it. You're so scared if you let someone in that you'll like it. The more you like it, the more you rely on it. Until you're completely attached."
Gabriella scowled at him. "You're starting to sound like him."
Anita must have known who he was because she was suddenly smirking. "Maybe he's right."
"So I don't want to get attached, fucking sue me," Gabriella looked right into Anita's eyes. "I'm staying in the dump of a town until May comes. The second I have my diploma, I'm off to California. With no fucking attachments chaining me to here."
"Even if that attachment could be different from the others. Even if he could be one of the best things for you."
Gabriella opened her mouth and then closed it when she couldn't come up with a rebuttal. Better to go out silently than humiliatingly. She looked away and blew another bubble.
Anita said to her, sighing "I swear stubbornness is a genetic trait in the Montez clan. Makes me fear for Paco's teenage years, along with this little guy's." She rubbed her swollen stomach affectionately.
Gabriella shrugged.
Anita sighed again, kissed her cheek, and brushed back her hair. "Escucha a tu corazón, Gabriella. Escúchalo y síguelo. Estarás sorprendida a donde te llevará."
After offering her nugget of wisdom and one last smile, Anita left. As soon as she was gone, Gabriella spat out her wad of gum and took out a much-needed cigarette.
Inhaling deeply, she blew a massive cloud of smoke up to the ceiling.
Ay Dios Mio.
Her phone started going on, blaring Katy Perry's song and causing a mini earthquake inside her drawer. She retrieved it, seeing she had a new text.
I really hope you didn't get into too much trouble with your brother because of me. I'm really sorry
Unknown number. Mention of her brother. It didn't take much to put two and two together.
The natural thing for her to do would be ignore the text. It would be easier to pretend this afternoon was nothing more than a weird, confusing dream.
However, her body didn't seem to be in sync with her mind. Her fingers went to the message menu and typed away.
Don't worry about it. My brother's the typical Latino brother: crazily overprotective papa bear that's ready to tear a guy's eyes out for even looking at me
Five seconds later, she got a new text.
Is it a bad thing that I can't forget about the kiss?
Bad? No. Annoyingly and extremely inconvenient? Yes.
Definitely fucking yes, she thought.
Ten seconds passed before she got a new message.
Can I be honest with you?
I guess
The next text took a whole minute.
I really, really liked the kiss. A lot. Way more than I would have liked. I can't stop thinking about it or you
Sweet Jesus, no. Please don't do this to her.
I really like you, Gabriella
Her stomach did a kick, ready to send Javier's French toast up.
I really, really like you
In situations like this, whenever the hookup wanted more than what was given, she'd easily pull aside and cut him loose.
But with Bolton, that opinion didn't seem to be available to her. Or at least not quite as easy.
I know
…so what does this mean?
For an idiot, he really did know how to make a girl think hard with a question.
It means…that I need space. Space and time.
She didn't expect him to reply. Hardly even guy replied to a text that had the following words "space" and "time" attached to him. Just alone brought a several minute hesitant text. Together they might as well be the kiss of death.
Bolton, once again, proved her, replying in less than five seconds.
Whatever you need. I can wait
Somehow she believed him.
Thank you
AN: once again shout out to isarodas10 for her translations and to my readers for their awesome support, reviews, and questions. you guys rock.