#-as punishment I usually get my brains fried by my uncle

[whtybsshe]

Ino and Neji except Neji is definitely not straight

[kaetastic]

New York Guider

pairing: Luca Changretta x Mob!Italian!Reader

summary: Y/N arrives at New York to discuss some deals, until she stumbles upon an Italian mafioso. [requested: @supermegapauselouca​]

warning: just fluff ? lol

word count: 4.6k (a writer’s block that took a week to write this lmao)

note: i am not italian + i do not know the language so please be merciful to my translations lol. anyways, sorry for the time it took for this to post! my brain had been gushing of ideas but nothing is being typed lolol

Blurs of haze cast over the chilly leather seats, seeping through each layer to vaporize each inch of possible material. It smeared over the seats with its unbearable sizzling temperature. Since it had concocted the surface for an area of possible cooking, an egg could be fried in an impeccable haste speed. There was a slight guarantee that the sides would be frayed and crunchy to the tongue. However, it did not budge those who had accustomed to such temperature. 

Hence, they laid their skin over the scorching surface without flinching back, splaying over metal as if it had been a chilly summer breeze. Almost as if they had been immune to such pain. On the other hand, those who had not grown their skin into the new surges of heat were scribbling down notes in their head for the future. Well, in hopes that they would survive this assessment. 

The usually harmless source of heat had become an irritating nuisance recently, something the civilians had only picked up when they realized their coats that were as thick as a bear’s fur had been stuffed deep in their closet. It was covered by layers of dust, sprinkles of cobwebs and things they preferred they didn’t get answers to. Too busy with their heads embedded in their work, they hadn’t brought up the new change in factor. 

Now, the streets were overrun by sheets of munched on newspapers. All sides were covered by articles and endless paragraphs talking about the abnormal heat and the measures people would take to fight in the unbearable battle.

One had amusingly been- The West Deck, A Hot Spot For Cooling. Will Boats Have To Be More Careful? While some papers draped from posts, a handful had dotted the streets as if rolling haybales. It was abandoned after it was used for its short and temporary utilisation, a makeshift fan. 

Despite the scorching sun that pinned high in the sky for nearly two weeks, the realization had only settled down languidly. Meaning, the peak of complaints had only risen at its highest point recently. It had been nothing but complaints.

The sun that pierced rays of heat surges onto the New York civilians was as if it sat behind a blind; paused everybody in a daze to not realize the heat. There were all sorts of complaints: about the sweat dripping down their back or the sweat painting their suits, quite visibly; the street stench of the sticky liquid.

Even though they had spent some time on the road to get to the desired location their boss had ordered, the swivelling of the clock’s arm had not bothered them a bit as everything had gone to plan. Well, nearly everything since there was some trouble on the port to which they had resolved by a quick utter of her notorious lips. Those that sat in the car was a mental person as they subjected themselves to pain and torture of the sizzling metal roof. So, why had they been in the car forever? 

Some bodies didn’t bat an eye to the heat. It was not the same for the man who was behind the wheels, responsible for the valuable life in the backseat. Three were straight out plucked from the Mediterranean, and one had lived his life in the dazzling place of New York City. The roads they had swerved on were accompanied by towering buildings and clutters of people; however, it had decreased as they inched closer towards the wanted street. 

Too busy with the safety of the critical and important guest who sat at the back, the driver tolerated the bites of heat in his suit, the fabric inched tighter as seconds pass. As if his clothing had suffocated his ribs. The back of his palm had been smeared over with the waterfall of sweat crawling down his forehead. Despite his technique of ignoring the heat and focusing on the drive, he had no control over his mind. It felt as if every time he had thought of plunging himself in the chilly water of his tub, it was a method of torture. 

Sparkles of light danced in the air, wavering side to side as sunlight blared through the glass pane, radiating onto the prominent specks of dust. It seemed like an endless cycle of repeated movements. Speckles of dust rocked themselves down the ground then somehow manage to quiver back up. An amusing ride. Though, it wasn’t the same for the punished car and the driver. Y/N’s tongue poked her inner cheek, the tip of her tongue had been desperate for relief of water. Water. It would’ve been the last drink she would call for in a bar. In situations like these, she would take anything.

The residue of red wine that plastered in the crook and crannies of her mouth poked her tongue. Teasing and taunting her as the short supply had, unfortunately, run out. The only available source of hydration she had bought for the journey she had underestimated for being short. It was anything but.

Y/N was sure there wouldn’t even be a drop of the liquor she had brought since it was she who chugged every millilitre of it. She couldn’t help but to wish she had the ability to somehow- magically refill it to the brim. If only. How could she have let the last drop slide down her throat without her reminiscing on the moment? Too lost in her thoughts and approaching negotiations, Y/N didn’t even realize she was getting parched.

Glancing down at her lap, her thumb pressed onto a nuisance string of dust that attached itself to her recently bought dress. The elegant green looked as it had heavily cost, expensive. Even though she had brought a bag specifically for her jewellery which was one of the reasons the driver’s shoulders was crying moments ago, she had worn her beloved golden necklace. Well, she did love each and every jewellery she owned, the low hanging gem was just different. 

Y/N felt slightly guilty for holding her love for the necklace slightly higher than the other’s she owned. Almost like those parents who liked one child more. It wrapped around her neck in an adoring way, capturing every glint of the sunlight. The award for stealing the spotlight would’ve been awarded to the painful investment of a necklace. Her brother might’ve been the one to try to hold her back whenever her eyes graze over the sparkling sins; however, it doesn’t always go as planned.

No matter how big of a closet, full of gold and strings of diamonds she had, Y/N will not be stopped until the room is overrun by the jewellery. Sure, there had been times when her mother had tried to knock some sense in her head for purchasing such luxurious items as soon as she glanced at it. But, it was a little quirk she claimed as hers. A quite shameless one that is. 

“Dove sono tutti?” (where is everybody?) Pietro inquired, eyes brushing over the silent street they had curved into. Seconds ago, every square of the street was packed with at least three people. It suddenly felt like they had entered a deserted land of emptiness. Despite the towering buildings of intimidating glass which were the ogling eyes of the skyscrapers, everyone would assume the commercial road would be streaming of people. That was not the case as the streets were as dry as a desert. There were only a handful of cars that were of the same model- half a dozen to be exact since it didn’t take too long to count such a small number on a said-busy street. Where were the tales of New York and its people? The boss’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion. 

Her tongue poked out to caress her drying lips. Since the situation had felt somehow threatening and sceptical, Y/N already had her fingers pressed onto the bulge of the gun in her garter. Just one yank to finish a battle she hoped she wouldn’t have on American ground. Questions resounded off the walls of her head. There was no doubt that the leader of the territory would be hovered over the edge at her very much expected appearance. 

Was she to be welcomed by silence? The list of people she had to negotiate with had been separated into two: those who had greeted her, and those who didn’t bother to exert an effort. This was the latter’s case. It definitely ticked something in her which caused her tongue to smear of bitterness as if her presence was not appreciated. All the mobster wanted to do was go back to Italy, and munch on some finally good food. Those she had brought over the ship had been already devoured on.

Unfortunately for her, she had to get the business she was set less than a month to get over with. Some issues with the cargoes. One of the main topics that had been brought up during the family dinner by her uncle- one of the reasons she was even here. Damn you uncle Lorenzo.

“Probabilmente cazzo protestando per i diritti di lavoro, americani.” (probably fucking protesting for job rights, Americans) Vittorio snickered when his eyes brushed over the random, peculiar items littered onto the ground. It seemed as if the people had been escorted out quite forcefully in a short time span. There was a violet silk handkerchief puddled on the ground, smeared with a tint of dirt from the excessive amount of times feet had stomped over it. It was accompanied by a shoe that seemed freshly bought, a golden pocket watch, and a pen. All spaced away in great distance. 

Y/N didn’t say anything as she observed the silent road which had been roared by with her vehicle’s boisterous engine. The sound of the car’s plead to rest for a while after the exhausting journey bounced off the walls of the buildings to trickle into ears. She recalled on the time she had heard of the rise in opposition of the civilians to their dedicated work which was met with unfair pay. The Italian had read it on paper and her uncles who lived on the other side of the planet had mentioned it over a family meeting a couple of times.

Before she had the chance to mumble her order, a flock of men dashed out from the corner of a building. All in sombre oversized coats despite the heat, fedora hats attached to their heads, probably cowering around the lake of sweat that had been trapped inside. The pace of their steps echoed into the invisible cracks of the windows, “You’re not supposed to be here!” Leading the group was a man, slightly shorter than the rest; who had a caterpillar as a moustache, his voice sending quivers to run down the present buildings. 

She pressed her lips while her eyes ran over the group as a rapid observation of who she might deal with, “Resta qui e non tirarti fuori le pistole. Non ci serve un'altra guerra.” (stay here and don't fucking pull out your guns. we don’t need another war). There was a second seething in the vehicle before the words marinated into their heads. Pietro, the man who fiddled with the black fedora in his hands, parted his lips to amplify his uneasy thoughts about the situation. The slamming of a door slapped across his mouth. He let out an aggravated sigh from the expected action of his boss. 

The vein on Matteo’s forehead was visibly popping, branching down to slide between his eyes. His eyes were narrowed onto the vehicle which was exactly had he had said- not supposed to be there. Matteo’s pace hindered at the sight that left him astonished for a while. Although his eyes had glued onto the driver who had been drowning in his sweat, it had swiftly averted to another figure. The Italian hadn’t thought that a woman in a fluttering dress would be approaching him- or exit the car. The trailing men followed the same gesture, eyes beaming to gaze at the way the dress danced around her figure with every step she took; the way sparkles pierced back into their eyes from the tinted layer hovering over her eyes. 

It felt like every click of her heels interjected a pause in between a second to stretch time. And stretch time it was. Still in a daze, they watched as she pulled the sunglasses off with a click. The colour of her eyes glistened under the blaring sunlight, smearing over their astonished faces. There were endless of questions brought up in their heads; however, the most common one was, why was she in the car with three other men? It was safe to say all of the inquiries involved her.

“Good morning. I’m sorry if I’m disrupting something but I came here for business.” Y/N sent a quirk of her smile, fingers fiddling with the temples of her sunglasses. Matteo finally yanked away from his thoughts.

“The street is currently occupied.” 

Y/N pressed her lips in understanding before she craned her neck around to brush over the dead street, “Where’s everybody? It’s Monday, right?”

Matteo nodded, “It is. May I ask who you’re supposed to meet?”

“Travis Philip. With this empty street, there’ll be no one to lead me... would you guide me to his building? I heard it’s quite big, myself.”

Matteo quirked his eyebrows as faint chuckles from the men behind him echoed as a response to her indirect jest. The mention of the notorious name struck a chord in him. Travis Philip. The Italian had one and only one memory with the New Yorker. It was not good. There were words hurled around which was then followed by weeks of negotiations and conversations from the head of superiority that pinned over Matteo’s head. By superiority, Matteo meant Luca Changretta, “Travis Philip? What’s a woman like you tangling with a man like Travis Philip? He’s bad news.”

Y/N’s lip parted, wanting to answer his reply as vague as possible since there was a twinge in the man she could not point out. A twinge that would cause suspicion in her to rise. Just like those times she had to face those rising groups in her territory back at home. However, a raspy voice sprung onto the archery board before she had the chance to let go of the arrow, “What’s taking you so long?”

Luca stomped out of the building with anger seething from his ears in a steam of irritation and impatience. His shoulders were tense, rigid as if unbent metal blocks. The mafioso had sent down his accompanying men to check out the roaring noise of a vehicle.

Luca had expected them to kick out the unwanted people without uttering a word since the civilians of the city knew the faces they had to fear. When his eyes grazed through the heads of his henchmen, he was only left with unanswered questions. Questions he wouldn’t mind forgetting for it to torture his curiosity as he could gaze upon the sight. After sending a quirk of his lips, he turned to Matteo, “Mi prendi per il culo? Ho detto blocca la strada.” (are you fucking kidding me? i said block the road)

“L'ho fatto.” (i did) Matteo mumbled back.

“Perché è in piedi davanti a me allora?” (why is she standing in front of me then?) While the two engaged in a conversation- well, more like a scolding from the towering man to the other, Y/N couldn’t help but watch in amusement as she understood every single syllable and word gushed out onto the ground. There were few mentions of the name Luca which suits the towering man with his sleek hair. But what ticked her ears was the name, Travis Philip. The man she was looking for.

The shorter man rambled on, red creeping up to smear against his ears as huffs of mist evaporated out of his ears. Almost as if he was tolerating the annoyance of this, Luca, “Abbiamo bisogno di lui per darci i soldi. Mentre tu ti godevi il tuo tempo qui fuori, potevo solo tenerlo fermo.” (we need him to give us the money. while you were enjoying your time out here, i could only hold him down.)

“What did you do to the poor man?” The blotches of anger on the towering figure halted to crawl back into hiding. Luca pulled his body away from Matteo which he didn’t even notice was an inch away from his henchmen. He averted his focus onto the woman in confusion. Had she understood what he said? His doubts were then answered. “Save some pieces for me. Non essere egoista, lead me to him .” (don’t be selfish)

Sauntering through the crowding bodies of men, she passed the group before she screeched to a halt. There was the noise of a door slamming shut and distant feet approaching her; however, there was no familiar sound of feet shuffling that would usually follow after her from the stranger group of men. Y/N glanced at the narrowing eyes who lingered on the same spot, “So? Do I need to repeat in Italian also?”

Throwing confused gazes at their boss, the henchmen who were on duty were as struck as the superior Italian was. Luca nodded quite defeatedly while he pinched the bridge of his nose. He threw his hands in the air when no one seemed to understand his silent order, “Do I have to do everything?”

After what Y/N would call a successful deal, if you can call a couple of punches and strings of blood gushed to spray the walls a deal, she had realized it took nearly the whole day as the sky was smeared with gradients of orange and red, the sun waving a farewell. There was slight satisfaction on her side even though the bar was not full. 

Y/N could’ve done better- but she was no idiot. The woman was not on board with the idea of giving up thirty percent of the cargo pay to the transporter. He was out of his mind to jump from twenty-three to a whopping thirty percent. All because few shipments had suspiciously not landed onto its designated ports, “You know, I reserved a table at this nice restaurant. Thought of not going because what kind of loner would I look like sitting alone, right?”

The wavering warm light plastered over the Italian who paced beside her with his hands stuffed in his pocket. Y/N could vaguely recall to what led to her being walked to the place she was staying at by a man she had recently just met. Not only an Italian like her but one who possessed the same power in his hand. 

There were fragments she could try to piece together, though, it didn’t seem quite right. The possibility of the situation she was stuck in was hovering over the chances of her men yanked by an urgent call. The corners of Y/N’s lips curled up at the indirect question, “Are you asking me out to dinner, Luca?”

The Italian man pressed his lips, fingers fiddling with the curling cloth that erected out of its stitching line. Oh, how irritated his insides are from the minor fault. Luca hummed, eyes throwing a glance at the woman, “I am.”

“Well, I hope you can push that reserve later because I’m going to be running around this whole week.”

Despite the previous week flying past her in a blink of an eye, Y/N’s whole body ached and quivered like a rattling stick on the furious waves of the ocean. It had been exhausting. There were so many issues she had to multi-task and make sure to recall it by engraining the problems in the back of her head. The men she had dragged from Italy could only do so little. Overlapping her attempts at remembering these tasks she would have to keep her tabs on, she had to face negotiations with other business partners. Even though she had come mainly for Travis Philip, there were strings of names she had to deal with on behalf of her organization.

All of the muscle aching and brain crying vanished as she now sauntered under the howling night towards the building she was to stay at temporarily. It all evaporated in a hasty exhale of waves from her body. No matter what she had done to recover from the period of exasperation, nothing had worked. Unfortunately, she had to learn this first-hand since the list of what her men would usually do had not served the same results to her. That was until the approaching dinner had arrived. 

“You know, usually, I get sent home in cars.” Y/N chided. She couldn’t help the curling of her lips at her words that pierced into the Italian man who chuckled at her jest. The woman was sure that they were midway to her stay since her men had used the same path to send her to her lodge. Somewhere hidden under flaps of thoughts, Y/N didn’t want the night to end after the fulfilling meal; Luca’s presence. She didn’t know what it was about the man, but she knew she had never met somebody like him. Italy possessed a spectrum of people. However, Luca... he was different in ways she could not point out. 

Maybe it was the way his hair was sleeked, or the way his somewhat oppressed Italian accent budged into his English sentences. Or maybe, just maybe, it was the comforting fact that he knew of the world she lived in. Without a doubt, one could see the pair as equals as they stood practically on the same labelled position. Luca Changretta grew up with the knowledge of how the mafia worked, how the organization ran, and the sacrifices they had to commit. All to wear a hefty golden crown on their head. 

While the tranquil street was echoing with the clicking of her sharp heels and the light shuffling of Luca’s steps, she noticed the lack of vehicles on the road. It was usually run over by wheels and honking vehicles even though it was nudging to rising of the sun. One of the things Y/N had learned after a stretched-out meeting that had hovered over the end of a day. The Italian woman would be in the back seat of the car and watch as people engulfed the streets, and vehicles occupying each inch of the road. But now, it was just them and sprinkles of slumbering cars, “Enough experiences, have you?” 

Y/N shook her head at the unexpected reply. Despite the dinner being simple and casual, she couldn’t help but feel it was more than that. Simple was underwhelming to the way her heart fluttered at every mumble of words from his lips or the way she couldn’t help but send a genuine smile after he quirked the corner of his lips.

There was something cowering in the crack in the corner of the restaurant while they munched on the food that was worth salivating for. It lingered its eyes onto the two as they ate. However, the woman held back. It wasn’t a feeling that she was sceptical of or had a bad feeling for. Instead, it was the feeling she had been described to when she was tucked in her bed by her parents. The stories of an emotion that had led people to do things they wouldn’t normally do. The tales of love. 

The Italian woman had a handful of attempts at finding this story- well, more like confirming its existence. Because after some times, she had lost hope and felt that the tearful stories said by her mother were just lies. Lies that she falsely believed in. So, was this it? The way her gut twisted in peculiar angles whenever Luca would do the slightest like quirk his eyebrows while she went on rambling. Now that she noticed, she was slightly more open with the man. Never had she felt in her own skin when talking to someone out of her blood relatives. 

During the simple dinner, she had learned many things from the man. Not only from his stories, but from her observation that she hoped was not too obvious. There were countless of times the Italian male had tried his best to suppress his vulgar words even though she had said not to worry.

It was amusing to see Luca string of from ‘fuck’ to a rather peculiar and random word to finish off in front of the lady. He justified it when he said it wasn’t right to curse in front of a woman. Then, he proceeded to hurl ‘fuck’s and ‘shit’s after he had accidentally nudged his glass cup onto the ground which gushed into fragments of infant shards. To which he threw an excessive amount of money (more like a wad of money) on the desk. It was worth for one table set.

“Enough for me to know that there is a reason for you to tire out a lady’s legs.” Luca grinned, his fingers cladded with his sparkling rings pierced on the stubborn scar that would torment his face forever. The memory of something he wished he could have forgotten. The permanent marking that would remain on him to remind him of the pathetic moment of his youth life. 

The Italian man nodded in understanding, “Yeah, but you can have a better view of the moon when you walk,” Y/N shook her head at his excuse for making her knees cry out for rest. “Plus, you get really good exercise.” 

“I hope you’re not indicating for me to exercise. I’ve done a lot of walking this past week.”

“What kind of a man do you take me as?” Luca inquired as he stuffed his fingers into the pockets of his jacket. 

Silence engulfed the two after Y/N’s quick chuckle. It wasn’t one of those that occurred when the moment had felt wrong. No, it was more than that. It was far more than that. A silence of enjoying the fact that the other was still here. His radiating warmth had coated her arm. She knew it would be a lot warmer if she was just nudged into him. The period of time hadn’t been interjected by a mumble before Y/N’s eye grazed over her lodge, “This is it.”

The pair lingered in front of the wooden door. Luca watched with his hat in his fingers. Although her body swerved to nudge to her left, time smeared in a blur.

Luca caressed her chin with his thumb, fingers gingerly and softly pinching to tilt her up. Even though the night where every civilian had prayed for cooling and a miracle surge of wind, the faint whistling of breezes had failed their hopes. There was only a tease of puffs in the air as if it taunted those who were drowning in their own sweat. With the twinge of cooling breezes, it was vanished once their warm lips generated a temperature hotter than that of the waves of heat in the bright morning.

Y/N didn’t want it to end, the feeling of his fingers brushing a trail to place against her cheek so softly as if she was a cargo of fine wine; the taste of his lips. But it did. Unfortunately, “I’m leaving in two weeks.” She breathed out, eyes ogling up to face the man who had plastered over her with a feeling she had never felt before. It was foreign. Y/N needed more of it.

“Well, then, it’ll be two unforgettable weeks.” 

[joshslater]

Summer with Uncle Bob

I don't even know how many years ago I last saw uncle Bob. His small cattle farm in Oklahoma is like 30 hours drive away from Tacoma, and we couldn't afford to fly, so the visits had been few and far apart. Now at least I am old enough to make the trip on my own. A three day greyhound bus trek down the west coast to LA and then inland through Phoenix to Tulsa. But even in my sleep deprived state there was no mistaking uncle Bob. He looked just as I remembered him, a caricature of a cattle farmer. Despite being my fathers younger brother, he looked way more imposing with his broad, rough body barely contained in his Levis jeans and Carhartt long sleeve shirt. And a John Deere cap on top it all off.

He picked me up at the bus station in his ludicrously oversized truck. Unlike in the coast states the wear showed he actually needed such a vehicle. He tossed my bags onto the flat bed and we jumped in for the 2+ hour drive to his farm. Although the sun was mercilessly shining at us, and the scent of cow, diesel, man and dashboard mixed, I was getting less tired. Bob appeared genuinely happy to see me, and wanted to know as much as he could about my life.

I told him about mum and dad, my sister, our home. I told him about the few friends I had, our interest for engineering and how we competed in robowars. I told him about school and what subjects I like and don't like. How I excelled in math but never seem to get my growth spurt to do anything right in PE. I told him about the bullying that had gotten worse every year as my oppressors had outpaced me. I told him about beatings and the "accident" without witnesses that December that put me in hospital. I told him how my friends begun to stay away to avoid having an accident themselves, or be witness to one. I told him that his invitation to spend the summer with him was why I hadn't killed myself.

- We haven't seen much of each other, but we're all family here. I want you to know that you can always call me if you want to talk. There will always be a bed waiting if you want to come down here and get away from everything. No one will bother you.

We shared a silent moment.

- But not this time! I can't get away from a livestock farm for long. The only reason I could pick you up is because Tom and Sib expects you to pull your weight while here. I know it will feel like a punishment, but I'm not going to give you something you can't handle.

The farm was really two farms that had joined at some point. Bob and Cathleen lived on the larger of the farm houses, while Tomasz and Sbigniew, or Tom and Sib as everyone called them, lived in the smaller farm house at the opposite side of the farm. Both had immigrated from Poland. Sib had been a farmer there too, and Tom had been in the army.

It was late afternoon when we arrived at the farm. Tom, Sib and Cat had heard the truck approaching and were all gathered to greet us.

- So before we do anything else we have a little surprise for you.

Bob took the lead, walking us to a farm building. When we entered I realized that it was the slaughterhouse.

- We only use the abattoir for our own need. Everything we sell is trucked away live. I thought, we can't have you kill a bully, but we can kill a bull. Cat and I thought it would do you good to have some grade A protein over the summer, so this is going to be your bull. I reckon we'll get 400 lbs in cuts from it, so that's how much meat per day, math wiz? - Eh. 5 1/3 lbs per day I think.

I had never seen a bull being slaughtered before, and hadn't really wished for it, but man was it interesting to see. They made it look so easy, keeping the bull calm up until the slaughtering bolt went into its brain. Then they all worked together to saw and cut the carcass down into pieces. Holy shit so much blood. Bob explained every part of the process and what kind of cut you could get from everything. I helped with putting the pieces in boxes or vacuum seal it in plastic. Though a lot of work remained, mincing and cutting larger pieces into smaller, everything was boxed away in three hours.

Cat went to the house to cook dinner while Bob and I scrubbed down the room and all equipment. When we joined her in the house I was told that I had the entire upper floor for me. Cat and Bob only really used the lower floor. She had put my bags in a large bedroom. I had a quick shower, dressed nice and joined in for dinner. There I was presented with a deep fried dish called Rocky Mountain Oysters. I had never heard of it before, but it was delicious. Cat and Bob had chicken. She said she was on a diet and Bobs doctor had told him he needed to eat less red meat.

- Easy for him to say. I have price winning prime plus beef all around me. If you think I won’t join you a few times for steak you don’t know me.

It wasn't until after I had finished Cat laughed and told me that Rocky Mountain Oysters were deep fried bulls balls, from the bull we just slaughtered. Well, it tasted good! We then said goodnight and I looked forward to my first real nights sleep in three days.

It felt like no time at all had passed when Cat woke me.

- Good morning. Breakfast is about ready, so throw on some clothes and come down.

Breakfast was a bucketload of oatmeal porridge with cubed apples, almond and cinnamon.

- Eat it all up, dear. You'll need it.

And boy was she right. When Bob had said that I would have to pull my own weight, I didn't think he was literal. I didn't know there were so many things needing pushing, pulling and lifting on a farm. By lunch, steaks and mash by the way, I was exhausted. By dinner time, grilled hunk of meat with grits, I was more sore than I had ever been before. Cat didn't accept my first attempt to shower before dinner.

- You have to use cold water, otherwise you'll trap the smell of cattle in the pores.

Cold shower it was. It kind of felt good on my aching muscles, and was refreshing. That was short lived, though, because right after dinner I felt fatigue setting in and collapsed in bed for another dreamless night.

When Cat woke me the next morning I was in pain. Every part of me was in agony.

- Oh, you poor thing. I'll get you something to sooth you.

She went away and came back with a big, green tub of goo. As soon as she opened the tub the room filled with the smell of mint and eucalyptus. She took a piece of cloth, dipped it into the goo, and started to apply on my back. It wasn't like any pain relief cream I had ever felt before. It started with the same icy-hot feeling, but then it built and just kept on building until the feeling was worse than the muscle pain. Cat rubbed it in everywhere I had complained about before, and I didn't want to back out now. Once she was done I had a look at the tub. "Equine muscle pain relief" it said. It was made for horses!

- Someone smells extra fresh.

Bob quipped during breakfast. He pushed me as hard as the day before, and I never complained about sore muscles again.

The days settled into a familiar pace. Porridge, work, meat, work, meat, sleep. But the work itself was varied, with a thousand and one different things that needed to be done, and it was getting more and more bearable. Partly because I was getting better at how to do things, but partly because I was getting stronger. I had never thought of getting inside a gym, but perhaps it had been silly to wish for a growth spurt without doing anything for it. Well, it looked like it had arrived, because by the second week I needed new jeans and shoes, and my shirts, while stretchy, would soon need replacing as well. Sib handed me some old clothes that he had outgrown.

As I started to get a grip on things, learn how things work, and have the stamina to complete a day without collapsing, I started to have more time to do other things. Tom had purchased all the weapons he was trained on in the Polish army and practiced at least once a week, and he was happy to teach me how to shoot.

Sib invited me over to their house one evening. Tom and Sib had each half of the top floor as their private space and shared the downstairs. To my surprise, in one of the shared rooms was a full home gym.

- Why do you have a gym? Don't you work out enough as it is? - When workink, you do what you must. When workink out, you do what you can.

He then started to show me some of the exercises. Despite all my hard work on the farm, and doing very light exercises with Sib, I woke up sore in completely new places the day after. It became my new routine to go to Sib every second evening and do a half hour workout with him.

Tom, not wanting to be outdone, added various combat exercises. And not just kicking and boxing the sand bag in their gym. We could be loading hay in the middle of the day and he would start charging me screaming "TAKE ME DOWN!". He would usually come out on top, but some times I would get him. "Kurva! You did good." he would say.

Bob didn't have much time for things outside of work, but one day, with only a few weeks left of my stay, he took me to a small lake an hour away to fish. Usually my dad and I would go fishing in the summer in Washington, and I'm sure Bob knew that, so it felt extra special to me. Like a trip with a second father. It was a really nice day, hot enough for clothes to be optional, but not scorching. It was also nice to get out of the work clothes, put on some shorts and pretend to be a teenager on summer vacation.

We were standing in silence with our rods, and I caught a glimpse of myself in the still water. I realized that no one would recognize me. I barely did so myself, especially not after Cat had taken the hair clippers and given me a tight buzz. I had been so caught up in everything that I'd seen all the small changes but somehow missed the huge transformation. How could I be this tall, broad and muscled in just two months? Bob probably guessed my thoughts when he saw me lowering my rod and staring at my reflection.

- You're a clever boy. I thought you would had it figured out by now? - What figured out? - It's the beef. We inject the calves with Monsanto Taurus. It's a genetically engineered growth hormone. Builds muscle like crazy. By the time they are slaughtered it's out of the system though. - So how....? - The bull we slaughtered for you were injected two days earlier. Enough time for it to activate fully and spread into all muscle tissue, but not enough to break down.

It was clear that this was an important talk for Bob. He wanted to come clean with what he had done and he wanted my approval. Hell, if I wanted I could probably send him to jail. I looked at him and then back at my reflection. I had never really dared to think about my dream body, but if I had it would have been the summer tanned, hard muscled body looking back at me from the lake. This evening I will practice choke holds with Tom. What else can I wish for? Straight A:s and a million dollars? There was only really one answer I could give him.

- Moo.

We were done with all the good byes, at least so I thought. Just as I was about to walk to the bus, Bob handed me an envelope full of money.

- Whaa... What is that for? - Two and a half months of hard work. You've earned every dime. - Should I really carry this much? - You still don't get it, do you? No one will fuck with you.

He brings me in for a hug.

- Anyway, you need to buy clothes you can actually fit in. Do something nice for your mother also. - I will. - And tell my brother he's a weak ass. - I can't do that! - He's not gonna stop you.

Epilogue

[backtomylakearearootsstory]

S1E15

The kids are still in Santa Monica with Faye and Clarissa. Ian, Malachi, QJ, and Darius were laughing at a movie while the Aundrea and Alexis went to a nearby sports store to look at tennis shorts.

“You play tennis” Alexis asked Aundrea as she picked up a tank top.

“Oh yea, dads side of the family were all athletes, it’s in my blood. I’m actually trying out for the bball team at school”

“My mom played basketball, I’m more of a volleyball and tennis kind of chick. Darius plays soccer, he’s in a little league team back in Long Beach”

While they were chatting away, Deja was at home cooking dinner. She was preparing a pasta with shredded chicken and shrimp, a salad, rolls, and a cake. She also threw in a caramel pie for extra dessert. Quincy grilled some wings. She should be grading essays however there was no time for it today. Yvonne was helping her with by making homemeade beverages. One for the adults which had alcohol in it and the other one centered around sherbet and sprite. 

“This is been a busy weekend for you, hasn’t it?”

“Yes, exhausting, can you start mixing the ingredients in the pie for me after you finish with that?” 

“Sure, where’d you get this recipe for this caramel pie?”

“Pinterest”

“I figured” Yvonne said laughing, “It sounds like a dessert that’ll have me running to the gym, or at least it should”

“So what you think about Faye so far?” 

“I like her, wish my Zach would have met her Friday evening, but he will be here tonight, I’ll make sure of it. Phil’s bringing him” 

“Mom coming tonight?”

“Yeah, she said she is”

The conversation continued and including discussion about jobs and family, when Azalea called. 

“Put her on speaker”

“Hey”

“Hey, you slaving away in the kitchen?”

“I guess you could say that”

“I’m at the pool with the Dominic”

“How’s Gabriel?”

“Alot better, I know I didn’t get to spend much time with our cousin but he keeps me busy. Well both of the boys do. My daughter is the only one who didn’t inherit any issues of blood”

“Y’all have fun out there”

After hanging up, Azalea grabbed a wine cooler out of her purse that she had hidden in her purse when someone next to her asked “long day?” 

Hours later when they returned to the house it was dinner time. Helen was there when Faye walked in. The sisters and their husbands as well as their children were all in attendence when Helen walked in. Zach reached his hand out to Ian for a handshake prior to Faye introducing her daughters”

“Hi” Faye said to Helen who stood for a moment speechless. She stared for a while before they embraced. 

“Mom, wants me to tell you that she’s sorry about what happened”

Helen stated that she never blamed Clarisse while holding back tears. 

While eating dinner Deja asked if Faye had ever got to experience aunt Anna’s peach cobbler?

“Yeah, she usually made it on Sunday. She smothered alot of food growing up. She didn’t really fry things, but that cobbler always came in handy after eating smothered steak”

“Yeah, it was normally aunt Bessie that fried chicken, she did that until her health started to decline. Uncle Pete was a hell of a cook too, he started to cook more often to keep the tradition going afterwards. He made a good gumbo too” 

“I haven’t had gumbo in a while, It’s probably been three years since I’ve been down there. Gumbo is hard to find out here that doesn’t include tomato paste!”

[Faye was not immune to Louisiana, she spent the first ten years of her life down there and she would go down every other year to visit her Aunt Lorraine and her Uncles. They normally went late June to early July. Her kids were also aware of the family that they have back in Louisiana.]

“You ever watch the cooking channel and you see a cook making a roux so thick that it looks like a paste?” Yvonne laughed as she poured a cup of the alcoholic concoction.

“What’s a roux” Darius asked

Faye explained that it was the base that makes up a gumbo and that it was the result flour and grease heated at a high temperature until it was dark brown. 

After getting up to meet the other youth in another room, Helen began to ask Faye how Clarisse was doing. She said it had been years since she had seen her and that their relationship had been kind of strained every sense. 

“She’s good, thank you”

The conversation was paused when the doorbell rang, Clarissa two daughters walked in. “Hey, you made it!” 

“Those are your two?” 

“Yes ma’am, that’s my oldest Brandi, she just started driving and my youngest Amina”

“This is your cousin”

After a hug, they went to the kitchen to fix their food and met the rest of the kids on the porch.

[conversation continues]

“I never blamed her for what happened, Lucinda was out of control. I think she favored her sons over us anyway. They got away with far more than we did. Of course, once your uncle Mark was born she decided to get the help should desperately needed. We spend the bulk of our lives dodging her temper and frankly the only reason you mother was spared is because she was smart enough to run off. I was simply collateral damage.”[doorbell rings Brandi and Amina arrive]

“What do you think was the cause of her drinking?”

“She never wanted to be in the marriage that she was in. The marriage was forced upon her young, and I think she always resented us.”

As the night progressed and the gathering came to a closure and company left, bedtime came around. QJ, Malachi, and Aundrea slept in their own rooms while Faye’s children slept on the air mattress in the den. After the adults had gone off to bed, Aundrea being unable to sleep started to read “Alias Grace” and begin writing the draft to her book report. “At least now I’m getting somewhere” she said as she began brain storming and answering questions on the handout. It wasn’t that she didn’t care about school. She wasn’t so much as nonchalant, she just was not in love with it like her brother. While she was writing Malachi and Ian were exchanging Skype information and email to keep contact.  They talked about the movie they had seen for a bit before wrapping it up. 

It was about midnight before they went to bed, hence the difficulty waking up for school. 

Faye and her children were already up.

“Thank you so much for the visit, we enjoyed it”

“We were glad to have you”

“We’ll have to get together in a couple of weeks, maybe have you all come out to Long Beach”

“I’d like that”

After the kids all shook hands and embraced, they hugged the adults and headed out the door. After watching Faye and the kids leave they headed out for school.  

At school Aundrea signed up for Basketball tryouts prior to heading to social studies class.  On the way she ran into Brianna who asked her how her weekend was. 

“I wanted an extra day. We had cousins from Long Beach come in for the weekend. Last night I finally started writing my draft for the report. I’m gonna have my mom proofread it. She’s a high school English teacher”

In class, the teacher announced that they would be watching a video and taking notes. “Pay close attention, there will be a quiz next class” 

Concurrently, Quincy was watching TV when he got a phone call from a school. He signed up with the school system to be a sub for some time until he got his full time job. The call was from a middle school saying that they would need a sub Friday. 

“Yes, I can make it. 7:50 am? I’ll see you there.”

While this was not Quincy’s long term goal, he was glad to be out of the house and feeling like he would be of use somewhere to someone. 

At approximately 10:00 am, he got a phone call from QJs school saying he had been in a fight during recess, upon arriving to the school, he asked what was going on?

[Quincy(Orange) QJ (sky blue) school administrator (Pink) school bully mother (green) Ezra (light blue)]

After Quincy left and QJ had to hear a mouthful from the principal regarding his fathers “bigoted” ways he returned to class. He asked if Ezra was alright and said, he’d see him in detention.

In detention while scrubbing the cafeteria floor QJ mumbles “two days of this shit!”

“Thanks” Ezra said in a soft spoken manner. 

“Don’t mention it. Kind of sucks that we’re punished for it while his fat ass is sitting in a classroom somewhere. Anyway man, you’re my friend, we may have our fights but I hate that you have to face this every time you walk up here. You don’t deserve that.”

around 5:00 pm when detention was over Quincy arrived to pick up his son. 

“Well that’s my ride, are you gonna be okay?”

“yeah”

“Okay I’ll see you at school tomorrow”

after a brief pause he said. 

“get in the truck, my dad can drop you off”

On the ride home Quincy said “son, you did the right thing. I’ve always instilled it in you to fight for yourself and for others you see are  being wronged. You went about the situation correctly. Spitting in someone’s face is one of the most vile and disrespectful things one can do.”

“Dad, my principal was not happy with you after you left. He said you were setting and I quote “a terrible example” for me with your bigoted manners way of thinking and he said that it was no wonder that I was so aggressive”

Quincy responded by saying that he stood by everything that he said and would say nothing different if confronted again. He knew that Ezra was one of the nicest kids one would encounter.

 “Ezra, you don’t have a mean bone in your body”. “Look, I am from the south where we whip ass or got our asses whipped. Y’all didn’t grow up in that. When I was in school, they didn’t suspend kids over this. I grew up, kids handled it themselves and were friends by the end of the week. Let them hash it out! But because they’ve taken that right away, now you have kids bringing weapons because they are being told that they can’t use their hands. It’s okay for a boy to go piss in the girls bathroom because he feels more like a girl than a boy but it’s not okay for two boys to settle their dispute the old fashioned way. This is a  part of the pipeline to prison system. This is just an attempt to begin it early. The main target being young black boys, condemn them early, then their in juvenile hall by the age 11. Don’t let them get you to that manner, but don’t ever feel bad about using self defense when you need to.”

TO BE CONTINUED WITH EPISODE 16