In the end, they didn't ambush me, and I ended up at that fucking party. We arrived at one of my safehouses, and there was food, drinks, waiters, a bunch of hoes, and a live band.
I felt like I was still in jail.
"Welcome, Boss," one of my men said, and the waiters asked me if I wanted something to drink. I said "no" 'cause I didn't feel like it and 'cause I wasn't gonna drink what some strangers gave me.
"Come on over, Boss. There are some girls here who wanna meet you," said a guy sitting in a couch and surrounded by a bunch of hoes. Twelve, at least. Twelve hoes plus ten waiters plus the live band, and all of them knew about this safehouse.
"How stupid are you?" I told them. "No one's supposed to know about our safehouses. If we weren't the only gang in town, the other ones would have found out about this place by now and would have come to kill you all. Fucking idiots, all of you."
I went to the second floor, and there was a very long hallway with several doors.
I opened one, and the room was filled with various packages we distributed. Didn't remember who I left in charge, but I definitely needed to check our balance sheet.
I opened another door, and the room was filled with pistols, machine guns, and even grenade launchers.
I opened another one, and inside was a guy blindfolded and tied to a chair. He smelled like piss and shit, as kidnapped people tend to do.
"Hello?" that idiot asked, and I just closed the door and opened another. I finally found a normal room, with a full bathroom and everything, even though this one stank of flesh and blood, but that was normal in a safehouse.
I sat down at the desk there and grabbed a notebook and a pen. I tore off a sheet of paper and tried to remember my friends from when I was a kid; I needed their names to se if my men could find them, if they were still in this town or had gone somewhere else, but I barely remembered their faces. One of them was Paco Gómez? Paco Gutiérrez? Paco González? I honestly couldn't remember.
Suddenly, a bunch of my men came in and sat on the bed.
"What you think about this town, Boss?" one of them asked me. "Just a little while ago, some idiots were starting another gang, but we fucked them over."
"You would have seen us, boss," another one told me. "We got to where they were, shot them all, and left. You would have seen those bastards: they were celebrating who knows what. They had no idea we were going to get there. When we went into that house, they just shitted their pants, and we shot them. They didn't even have time to beg for their lives."
They all laughed and cheered.
"What a showoff," I said almost laughing. "You think you're a big deal for killing people that didn't defend themselves."
Everyone was so confused.
"What's wrong with that, boss?" one asked. "That's how we've always worked, so none of our people die."
"Look, asshole," I clarified. "I never said it was wrong to work like that. The thing is that you guys are bragging about it. You think you're really badasses for shooting someone unarmed? Brag when you form a gang like Death, brag when you destroy all the other gangs. If Death rules this town, it's 'cause of me, not 'cause you shot a few guys..."
Those dumbasses didn't dare to say anything else. They just looked down and shut the fuck up. Idiots. They think they're so cool, but as soon as someone says something to them, they freak out and do nothing.
Suddenly, some other guys came over and told me:
"We have a surprise for you, Boss."
And a bunch of hoes came in and approached me. The ones nearest caressed my arms, legs, and even placed their heads on my shoulders.
"Why you're so lonely?" asked one of them.
"You wanna be my friends?" I asked them.
"We can be really friendly," another one said, grabbing my leg. Her hand started to move up and up, but I took it away and glared at her.
"What the fuck are you doing?" I asked, and she and the rest stopped smiling and shit their pants.
As they should 'cause no one toys with me.
I let go of her hand and smiled at her.
"Just a joke."
They pretended to smile but were still scared shitless. I got up and told them:
"Drink all you want and tell my men to pay you double whatever they were gonna pay you."
I went out of that room and tried to remember my friends'' names, but... do you know what pissed me off the most about that bitch of my mom?
That she just hated me.
One day I came home around mid-afternoon. I walked in, and my mom was, as always, sitting on our shitty couch doing nothing. As soon as she saw me, she came up to me and hugged me tightly.
"Oh, son. Why you always leave me so alone?" that bitch asked me. "Who knows when your dad will come back, and you're always on the streets." I don't remember how long that asshole hadn't shown up, and it probably took him a while to return.
"I just got a book from the library," I told her. It was the Basic Magic Course for Kids Vol. 3. That piece of shit was all worn-out, but it was the only magic book they had.
"Why don't you want to come home with me after school? Why you wanna worry me?" She always said that but never bothered to look for me.
When she finally let me go, I went straight to my room. Well, it was more like a closet than a room. A single bed barely fit in there. The floor was just a layer of cement, the walls weren't even painted, and the roof was a bunch of metal sheets. I sat on my bed, even though it hadn't been made since morning, took out a feather I'd found on the street, and opened my magic book right where I'd left a piece of paper. "Basic Telekinesis Spell," or something like that was the page's title. I followed the instructions over and over again, but the feather just wouldn't move. I tried it for like two minutes, maybe three, and suddenly my mom came and started making my bed.
"Get off the bed; you're making such a mess," that bitch lied 'cause the bed was just like that when I got there.
"Look, look: I'm practicing magic," I say while trying to move that feather that didn't move even an inch.
"Move over," she said as she pulled the sheets under me.
She had all fucking day to make the bed, but she just wanted to do it when I was there.
Well, maybe she had forgotten, and it was the only thing left to do.
I got off the bed and laid on the floor.
She then finished making my bed, and you know what happened next? She decided it was the perfect time to sweep my room. She could have just done it before making my bed, but she didn't. She just wanted me to go fuck myself.
"Move over, son, with all this dust you always get sick and make your dad spend so much money. It's not fair," that bitch lied again, 'cause I wasn't getting sick from the dust, but from the fact that it was always freezing at night.
I didn't reply and went into the living room instead, where I continued wasting time trying to move that damn feather. And who you think followed me there? Yup, my mom, and she started dusting exactly where I was. At first, she didn't say anything to me, and I kept practicing. Suddenly, the feather moved a little.
"Look, Mom! Look, Mom! Did you see it?!" I asked, all dumb and excited 'cause I'm sure the wind my mom made with all that dusting was the thing that moved my feather.
My mom saw me, then saw the feather that wasn't moving anymore, grabbed it, and threw it in the trash.
"This house is such a mess. And you," she said to me, "don't you wanna leave for a bit? You're always in my way."
And for that reason, I always did everything I could to avoid going home. You're probably saying: "she was alone, and you never helped her at all. It's not fair." But I did help her once. I made my bed, folded and put away my clothes, swept and dusted my room. Then I took her there so she could see what I'd done.
"You did it all wrong," she complained, grabbed the bed sheets and dropped them on the floor.
She also dropped all my clothes.
"That's not how you fold them," she said, even though I had folded them exactly the same way she always did.
She dropped all my clothes to the ground, even the ones she put there, the ones I didn't touch.
"Now I'm gonna have to do all the laundry again 'cause of you," that bitch told me as she picked up the clothes and sheets she dropped on the floor. "No wonder your father always gets mad at you, and that's why he always abandons me."
She always told me the same thing, and I was so stupid I always believed her.