When he told me we were going to move, I was pissed. No. Pissed is an understatement. I was seething. It is not like I was going to be leaving behind a great love or a ton of best friends. I don’t have either since I am the dude that likes to be alone. I trust no one and don’t want to be in other people's shit. So, no, moving wasn’t taking me away from someone. I simply don’t like the unknown. It fucks with my head and makes the darkness inside of me more pronounced and louder. Plus, I know what we are going to face when we get to this shithole. Judgmental assholes and sneered faces. Who the fuck wants to deal with that?
You might be asking yourself why my brothers came with us, considering they are all old enough to be on their own. The short answer is that this business is our legacy if we want it, and in order to be included in it, we have to help out and work in it once we graduate unless we choose to go into something else. Me, I have no clue. That is something that has been hanging over my head. Do I go into the family business or open my own Tattoo shop? The truth is, I could never work and be set for the rest of my life, as could my brothers. My father expanded the business ten years ago, right out of our garage. He worked on cars as normal and fixed bikes on the side. One day, a movie star and his crew drove through our town, and one of their bikes broke down. This was at like nine at night when all other shops were closed. My father was recommended by someone, and he agreed to fix their bike.
While waiting in our garage, they saw some of the drawings he had for car and bike designs and went apeshit. The next thing you know, he had several investors, and within the first three years, he was able to buy them all out, so this business is solely ours. His fortune, the last I checked, was at two hundred and fifty million in income, with two hundred million and rising in investments, each of us with a nest egg set aside.
“Are you still pouting runt?” Sebastian muffs the back of my head.
“I am not pouting, asshole.” I hate being the youngest.
“Whatever.” He snorts before putting his headphones back on.
“You guys are going to love this house, boys.” My mom shouts from the front seat. My dad is driving the moving truck down, so Manny is driving the family car.
“Right,” I grunt, not in the mood for this shit.
“Seriously, your dad and I bought the biggest house in town and had them add an expansion and a few more great additions.” I know she is trying to engage me, but I am not biting. My brothers call me the moody one, and I guess that is true. I can’t explain it, only to say I have always felt like I was misplaced. There is this space inside of me that is hollow like something is missing, and no matter how much I try to find it, it eludes me, and it makes me pensive, quiet, solitary. I have often asked the universe to show me what is missing, but it simply laughs at me and keeps moving. I don’t know. It is what it is. “Please just try, Xandro.” My mom pleads while looking at me.
“Sure, mom.” The car stops, and I get out. Huh. It is definitely big. My dad blows the horn for us to come start unloading. Walking to the van, I can’t help feeling some hairs on the back of my neck standing up. Something is waking up my senses, and it is jarring. I look around the street and find it bare. The only thing is a moving curtain, but no one is in the window. Maybe it is wishful thinking.
CHAPTER 2
Fire and brimstone. Marriage. God-fearing. Sin. Good wife. These are the words I hear all day from the moment I awaken until time for prayers and bed, with the exception of school days. My father is the Pastor of the Community Christian Church, and he takes the bible both literally and figuratively, down to the punishments or penance he makes my sisters and I perform depending on our supposed indiscretions.
I often look at my mother, a beautiful woman, and wonder if this was the life she has always seen for herself. Was their marriage arranged like he is planning to do with us?
My parents were married at eighteen years old, and my oldest sister Adriel was born not too long after, followed by Aasta, and then finally came me and my twin sister Rayna. Just to show you how fanatical he is, all four of us have names that have something to do with either the Bible or expectations of life. Adriel means Flock of God, Aasta means Love, Rayna means Pure, and my name means Innocence. See...he is nuts.