SONS OF MONARCHY by Sons of Monarchy

PREFACE..

There are two types of people in this world. Players, whose sole job is to run the world, and Pawns, whose purpose in life is to fulfill their destiny as an everlasting ladder for players looking to make their way to the top. Every morning you open your eyes and step out of bed, you are fulfill ing one role or the other, consciously or subconsciously; with every interaction, every action, every thought and even every desire. The difference between these two simple classes however, i s not a question of back ground, level of education, or financial means. The secret itself boils down to the simple concept of making a firm decision... Waking up one morning and deciding that l ife as you currently know it, no longer fits your most minimal standards or expectations, and you are going to do whatever it takes to make sure the grass is not greener on the other side. Despite what you are told, or the necessary damage needed to pave your way to the top… This is a small stop on my pursuit of hap piness… My name is Robert Mudenge. I am 25 years old; and six months to the day this word hits paper, I was everything that I believed to be man. I had it all; the cars, the women, the outrageous river overlooking penthouse, and the job that I believed to be of my dreams. I took my personal version of the American dream, sprinkled a concoction of sex, drugs, Rock&Roll and deceit upon it, and voila!!! A life of excess and debauchery, I thought would be the filler to the humongous void I had subconsciously ca rried within me for a major portion of my life… This is the tale of a boy who l ived on both ends of the spectrum more than once; at the often hefty price of loss and constant rediscovery of his own ever changing soul... A tale of a life l ived a step ahe ad of every single thing or person in its surroundings, as a mode of survival. A tale of love, loss, l ies, lust and larceny… This is the tale, of all Sons of Monarchy…

SON OF A TACTIC.. This story begins in the summer of 1987 , in a small African nation by the name of Rwanda. It’s July in Kigali, life is in the air; the expo is in town. All the major businesses in the country would gather at the only soccer stadium in town, and stage what could pass in western culture as the bastard inbred child of a shopping mall and a carnival. But to our manageable African standards, it was eclectically fascinating… There were cotton candy stands within the car dealerships mega tents. Outstanding marketing if you ask me. By accomplishing the remotely important parental task of treating your offspring to some sugary goodness, you were seduced into driving away in a Toyota Land cruiser which you probably in all honesty could not afford… Just as it is at any fair however, the intoxication of love was not shy of letting its presence known. He was of average height about 6 ft. 2, handsome fit devil. He ran track and field not because he had a university scholarship to do so; but because the assigned short shorts were not shy of complementing his manhood. And what better way to earn the ladies trust than by them knowing that you speak the word of god when you mention how well hung you are? And their trust, they gave by the hundreds… She was a gorgeously tall, dark caramel skinned, small town girl. She had just earned her agronomy degree from a polytechnic institution with high honors, and was immediately offered an internship at the ministry of agriculture research institute. But not before making a stop in Kigali and celebrating the expo with her sisters; and celebrated she did that faithful July evening, not knowing that that day was the first day of the rest of her life… Her fate would change in the stadium parking lot where a few slightly inebriated young men were passing a soccer ball around. While walking to her car, a particular one grabbed her attention. It was as if time had frozen upon initial eye contact, as if some magical spell had taken over the both of them in that tiny fraction of time. He had piercing hazel eyes, and as a tiny droplet of sweat

descended on his chest in a slow motion, she couldn’t help but gaze within his half unbuttoned cotton shirt, at the physique of a brown mythology god. Neither of them however, would master the courage of walking to the other and admitting to be cupid’s latest victims… The universe on the other hand, would see it fit to remediate to the course of events when a miscalculated kick saw the soccer ball land right behind her car, as it was backing out of its parking spot. As soon as she heard the noise, she automatically knew she had hit something, or even worse, someone. After a few seconds of petrified self-talk, she finally mastered the courage of stepping foot outside in order to evaluate the damages. She shrieked at the sight of him , struggling to get up… “Oh my god, are you ok?” she screame d, He had leaped for the ball a few seconds prior to the impact . “Jesus lady, you could have killed me” he said, sounding rather livid. But as he lifted up his head it hit him and he froze in his tracks yet again; this feel ing was now becoming strangely familiar… That flowery blue dress, those shiny lotioned legs, those soft trembling hands; it was her. As soon as he laid eyes on her he wanted to hold her. Tears slowly streaming down her face, petrified at the thought of sullyi ng her angelical little driving record with vehicular man slaughter, she finally realized he was ok, and that is when fear quickly turned to rage… “What kind of asshole just jumps in front of a moving car over a soccer ball?” she erupted. He found that emotional transitioning beyond heart melting. He had to have her; that is when he unleashed the hunter within… “You know, it really breaks my heart that the first impression that I am in the process of leaving behind with you will inspire an internal dialogue mainly composed of myself as that asshole that jumped behind a moving car for a soccer ball." He then took a step closer, deeply gazed in her eyes then said: “and not that handsome dark stranger with the outmost chocolaty baby smooth skin.” In the process he managed to grab her hand and very faintly ran it across his humid muscly chest. She couldn’t help it; she exploded in a hysterical giggle… He had brought her back from a place of doubt and despair. Her knight in a shining afro. “What’s your name?” He asked, still holding her hand without her conscious consent. “Beatrice” She timidly responded. “Beatrice? Ouch, really?” he replied, letting out a slightly arrogant chuckle. “Do you find a problem with my name?” She asked in return, sounding amusingly intrigued…

“Well no, I wouldn't call it a problem. It's just that looking l ike a top model and all, I assumed you would have a top model’s name. Something along the lines of Lilly or Sharon” He said, pull ing her closer in the process. “Is that right?” she inquired, throwing a flirtatious smile his way. “Very much so indeed, Beatrice is more along the lines of local dairy farmer’s daughter, in terms of sexy female name rankings." She exploded in another rather loudly obnoxious giggle, which completely took her by surprise… It was not in her nature to reach such states of euphoria. However today she had done so, and the light behind her new found self was standing right in front of her. She was paralyzed wet, and in love. For that young man however, it was a different story. She was clearly just another medal on the road to the fornication hall of fame. Another proof that with the sheer power of communication, one can unleash a volcano of emotions within a human being that will in the end make them act as he or she desires… He had utilized a method of seduction referred to in the professional pick up artist community as "the neg.” The neg is a system that consists of humorously making fun of a woman’s attribute of your choice in order to create particularit y and assume control. In this case he had chosen her name, any other average man would have responded by compl imenting her on a beautifully poetic name but he understood that in order to get in her favors he had to solicit her affection in a way that no other man had done before, so he did the opposite of what the average gentleman would do. He took the cynic route… That deep psychological understanding of human behavioral patterns and that impressive arsenal of moves would trigger a set of events that w ould see one sperm in six million fertilize an egg that would give existence to the always two moves ahead embryonic structure I believed myself to be…

MY FIRST COMISSION... Any man who has ever been considered remotely great in this world of ours, has a compelling story about how they came to enlightenment , discovered their passion and changed the world, for better or for worse. Newton had the apple, Hitler as an unsuspecting young man walked into a bookstore in Vienna and picked up his first book on social Darwinism, Jesus changed water into wine as his

initial miracle and Einstein asked himself, if a man flying into space at the speed of light while holding a face mirror would be able to see himself. That question would later on give birth to the theory of relativity that would forever change the course of our world as we know it… As for I am concerned, I esteem myself to be one of the lucky ones. I discovered my talent, my vehicle through l ife, the first day my penis was erected due to sexually motivated reasons. I was approximately ten years old. My dick had reached high levels of solidification prior to my epiphany but I could never really explain the reasoning behind it, until the faithful afternoon I walked into my cousin’s bedroom and to my surprise, he was not home… He was seventeen years old and arguably the coolest person I knew then. I took it upon myself to learn the ways of the lion; and what better place to start than its own den. I started looking around but not really knowing what I w as looking for. The bed was unmade and the whole place smel led like stale underwear and gram crackers. There was no hidden treasure in here that would not come at the cost of bacterial poisoning… I decided to put an end to my quest and watch some televisi on while waiting on my cousin to get home. I pressed the play button on the VCR and that was the moment that would forever change my life . My first ever televised blow job. For the first fifteen seconds, I felt like my ten year old brain was nowhere near the development point necessary to process this footage... On the screen was a very attractively curvaceous red headed woman who looked to be in her early twenties, wearing nothing more than a tiny G -string. She was on her knees in front of a white leather couch and on it sat a man with no clothes on. He looked to be in his early thirties, muscular build and the cock of a racing horse. It slightly threw me off because the only grown man’s penis I had ever seen was my father’s when he had forgotten to close the door while catering to basic bodily functions. Even though a man in his own rights, my father did not compete with this man in terms of size... She started him off by slowly running the tip of her tongue up and down his shaft as he closed his eyes and firmly grabbed her head by her fiery red hair, she submerged his entire manhood down her throat as he let out a subtle yet very manly moan to indicate how pleased he was. As she came back up, she gazed in his eyes and proceeded to digging in the bottomless pit that was her throat for what had the physical traits of egg white. she then began making bubbles out of the mucous substance and slowly letting it drip off her lips right down his entire shaft all the way to his testicles… 6

She repeated the process three more times until his penis was drenched in phlegm. Finally she proceeded by firmly grabbing his soaked manhood and stroking it to ecstasy as he unleashed his load all over her face. My ten year old mind could possibly not conceive the existence of s uch beautiful filth… I looked down at my swollen boy shorts and knew that something in me had changed forever. I had never experienced such a burning erection and the tightness of my shorts was causing quite a great deal of pain. I proceeded to unzip my shorts and free my penis. I then sat there and observed those mere five inches of sol id rock hard black cock, every vain, every throb; it was fascinating. The only thing on my mind at that time was, “I gotta get my dick sucked...” A couple days went by leaving my head burning with questions I knew I undoubtedly had to find answers to; and I knew the one man I could go to in order to acquire them... I grew up in a rather affluent household. My father was an attorney and my mother was now running a hair product import export business. My parents did it by my grandfather’s playbook as did all of my father’s siblings. The gorgeous home on a large estate and the three kids, which was a tradition on my father’s side of the family dating back to my great grandfath er… Three was the magic number. .. One boy myself, and two girls. Jocelyne a year younger than me and Marie 4 years my junior. Like any affluent African house hold, we created jobs in the community by employing an obnoxious number of maids, butlers, guards and gate keepers. They all came and went for one reason or another, but a few managed to stick around long enough that we grew very fond of them and they became influential in our upbringing… One of those individuals was a young man who went by the name of Anthony Bizikora. His name was actually Albert Bizikora but he had legally changed his first name to Anthony as a show of respect to my father who could not bare the thought of sharing a first name with a common servant. Anthony started working for my father in his mid to late twenties. After the genocide, there was a shortage of good help and one of the most booming industries at the time was in the profession of gate keeper… This is the individual sitting at your gate with some sort of weaponry, looking out for your family. Anthony quickly rose through the ranks and in no time he had become my father’s errand boy. His responsibil ities ranged from watching the gate at night to collecting payment from my father’s clients, to picking up the kids from school and filing the occasional court motion in between mowing the Lawn and fetching drinking water miles away. He was a machine and I admired 7

him for that. A pure jack of all trades looking to survive in a cold and merciless world. But that was not the only reason why I had a profound admiration for him…. Anthony was a complete seduction machine. He had managed to bang every single maid my parents had ever had; either taken or not. Then when he was done with our maids, he moved on to the neighbour’s help. Every six months my father had to mediate a pow wow between Anthony and yet another disgruntled neighbour who was concerned by the fact that another one of his maids was now with child and there was a mountain of evidence indicating that Anthony’s seed was at hand in this most heinous of crimes… My parents would be livid, but could not conceive firing an employee of his caliber. So when I noticed that Anthony was actually there to stay, we started getting very close just for the simple fact that he was alw ays honest with me. There was no sugar coating any situation just because I was ten years old. He gave me the facts just as they were. So in all obviousness, only one man had the answers to all my fellatio related inquiries... He had just finished washing my father’s car when I decided to walk up to him. “Hey Tony what you up to?” I asked, “I am on the way to go pick up something for your dad, what’s going on champ?” He repl ied... He had a very soothing, calm voice, the kind that made you feel like the be holder of this here voice was a man of answers; a voice that resounded with pure cool wisdom… I instantly smiled and asked him right away… “Have you ever had a girl put your dong in her mouth?”… He bursted out in a loud chuckle that indicated a tad bit of nervousness. He was under the impression that my new found knowledge had sprung from me observing him in the act with one of the perky breasted maids, which could result in him losing his job if this got back to my mother... He pulled me on the side, and looked around him. He knew he was in no place to have this conversation with me, but he was going to do it anyway. He crouched down so our heads were on even level and looked at me straight in the eye then said: “Where exactly did you see?” He carefully examined his choice of words, “well you know; that kind of stuff…, a dong in a woman’s mouth…” I went on recounting my tale of discovery in my cousin’s room and Anthony listened with absolutely no interruption. Once done he gave me that look. That look that said: 'you should be having this conversation with your father, not me...' But he could see the insatiable curiosity in my tiny brown eyes and knew he was not walking out of this one without giving me some answers. I could see the fear

within his eyes. He knew that the next words to come out of his mouth were to change the course of my life forever… “Alright look, first off, it’s called a blowjob . But right now you really shouldn’t worry your smart little head about this. In a few years you will grow into a smart, charming young man and they will throw themselves and all the blowjobs you can handle at your feet; but in the mean time you are 10 years old and unless you have shah of Iran money, I do not see it happening ...” He seemed rather proud of this semi-parental moment; He had divulged just enough. But to my ten year old brain he had divulged way more than was necessary to set a plan in motion. I smiled at him and he smiled back, tapped my shoulder and gave me that 'you are now a man little guy' look, and then took off… I sat in that same spot for about another hour pondering all this newly acquired information with my 10 year old wisdom. Women gave blow jobs if you gave them money. So all I needed in order to receive my first fellatio was money. But I was ten years old, the only way I could get money was either by steal ing from my parents or asking them to purchase sexual favors on my behalf ; and that did not seem like a route I could take. Christmas was ways away and I was not willing to wait that long to get my first orally stimulated dry orgasm… I went on for about a month after my conversation with Anthony having not figured out for the l ife of me how I was going to attain my goal. Three weeks following my life changing discovery, I had almost become a kid again; with kid worries. It had almost faded from my l ist of priorities when one day, I walked into a conversation that would forever alter the course of my life… It was late evening after supper; we had gone through another day of the same imposed ritual that had become our routine life... It started at 6:30 A.M every single morning with my father busting through the bedroom door like an overjoyed birthday clown, and yelling something along the l ines of “Up and rolling!!! the train is leaving!!!…” Now when I say birthday clown, this was not a birthday party. If after my father left the room you were not up and on the way to the maids to get you ready for school, it could very quickly turn into a long day… Breakfast at 7:30 am; tea, a Nutella sandwich and you were ready to go. My father was religiously at his office for 9:30 Am and he rarely worked afternoons. It was the perfect gig if managed properly; so no one fucked with his time. We understood that…

At 8:30 am if you were not in my fathe r’s 1995 Mercedes Benz E300, seat belt fastened and ready to go, that afternoon you were on your knees in the driveway for about a good hour or two right after school… We were always in the car... My father would drop us off to school at 9:00 A.m sharp every single morning, to pick us up at 1:30 P.M every single afternoon… Being late to come out of the school building, when my father was the one to await you, was a capital offense punishable to the extents of the belt if see fit. There are no child service s where I come from; We were never late… Once home, we would have what in western society would qual ify as a family dinner. But this, this was lunch; the biggest meal of the day. All five of us on the dining room table in the breezy afternoon sun , breaking bread. The better the mood my father was in the longer the sitting would last… You do not leave the table unless my father has either left or specified that you are relieved of family duty. But we knew it never went passed 3:00 PM because that was cutting in his siesta time. And to this day no one still dares to mess with my father’s siesta time... Once relieved of family lunch attendance duty, this was our time to be kids. We could run around, play video games, maybe slide by the neighbours, all kinds of kid shit, as long as at 5:00PM we were on the dining room table half way done our homework. Because between 5:00PM and 8:30PM my mother got to play Sheriff… She was in charge of everything school related, and she and I got to butt heads on infinite occasions; She could be merciless some days. I was in an awkward position due to the fact that my sister Jocelyne, who is a year younger than me, was in the same grade as I was because my father’s wealth status had improved... Prior to my father’s practice picking up in the mid to late 90’s, we were attending a public school, which curriculum caliber was considered mediocre compared to the private one's our newly acquired social status now permitted us to attend. So I had had to repeat the first grade; which meant a constant competition with my way more focused sister Jocelyne. But to my parents it was unacceptable; we either had to be on equal grounds or show my superiority as the only heir to the throne with a chance to keep the Mudenge name alive… I chose girls. And by god I chased. Something about those l ittle girls in long blue skirts, blue shirts, long red soccer socks and a red polyester tie fascinated my 10 year old self and I just could not shake it. It affected my school work and my

mother was the outmost less pleased of them all; and she made sure she very loudly voiced her concern… After homework it was bath and bed time. The maids took care of that portion of the work. My mother would then join my father in the living room where they would spend the rest of the evening watching television or fighting about my father’s latest indiscretion… Growing up, getting a new maid in the household was a bit awkward. One of the requirements on this woman’s rather large responsibility list was to bathe the children. It takes a little while to build intimacy when you are younger and the first couple baths are a tad bit awkward; but the older I got, the more fun they became… We would then proceed to go wish my parents a good night. It was a ceremony within itself. We would stand in a line in front of my father’s seat. My parents’ living room was made up of cheetah print sofas and atrociously comfortable love seats of the same poor cheetah I presume, that the children never got to sit on… My father took pleasure in observing his offspring; So he would make us sit in front of the television on this red Persian carpet that covered the entire living room. The taller I got , the more I hated it… Wishing my father a good night was a process that first begun with kneeling to his feet and kissing his right hand. He would then smile at me, do the sign of the cross on my forehead and kiss me goodnight. I would then proceed to my mother and my sister behind me would go through the same exact ceremony… Saying goodnight to my mother was a different experience. She needed none of the honors. She would grab me in her arms and I could just tell by the look in her eyes that there was nowhere on God’s green earth where I could be more loved than in these here arms of my mother. To this day my mother’s arms still feel the same… After the goodnight ceremony we were again shipped off to the maids that would proceed to tucking us in. The day would then end with my mother coming in the room to lead us in prayer and we would do it a ll over again the next day... But it would all change one faithful afternoon when my mother livid that one of the maids had ruined her favorite white satin shirt by turning it into a chiffon like material which sported a now purple color, physically reprim anded the poor girl and fired her instantly. Then she did exactly what she did every time she fired a member of the help. She instructed Anthony to go fetch another...

I never understood why this man loved his job so much until the day he walked in with Philomena… She was a 5ft 5 little fit goddess, looked no more than 18 years old with a very dark complexion. The lotion on her skin reflected in the sun and emitted this enchanting glow. She was wearing a tight l ittle white T-shirt hiding the perkiest most confident set of breasts to ever be put on a woman by the almighty; wrapped around her waist was a curve flattering traditional loincloth that sheltered an ass capable of inspiring words of resignation to the Holy Father himself… But those heavenly curves and that splendid set of breasts would come nowhere close to stimulating my imagination, as the moment I laid eyes on her lips. It was as if Angelina Jolie ha d had a baby with Seal and the baby’s lips were surgically removed to be implemented on Philomen a’s gorgeous dark face. It was happening again… That erection that had paralyzed me in my cousin’s room. My penis was call ing on her lips in a loud cry filled with desire. This girl was going to give me a blowjob even if it was the last thing I did of my s hort now 11 years of existence…. Opportunity came knocking three months after Philomena had begun employment in our household and was in the middle of a late night conversation with my mother concerning the possibil ities of a raise. Philomena’s performan ce however did not sing raise worthy praises to my mother’s ears just yet. She declined her request. Philomena then bowed her head in disappointment and dragged her small dark feet back to the help quarters… The sight of her that way broke my heart. I ha d to do something… That night while bathing me she was not her usual story telling self, she seemed distant and pre-occupied by financial burdens that in no way affected the relationship between gravity and her fantastic breasts. As she leaned over the bat htub to cleanse me, the occasional droplets of water would wet her shirt exposing beautiful dark constantly erected nipples… I stared at those nipples through that tight white shirt for a period of time that memory does not allow me to recall and suddenl y something took over me. Something I could possibly not explain. For the next few seconds, all form of fear had decided to leave my young boy’s body. I slowly opened my mouth to break the silence. “Philomena..” I said, with a small tremble but no evidence of fear in my voice. She lifted her head and laid eyes on me. She had beautiful long eye lashes and the water from the bath was reflecting light in them… “Yes?” She answered, with a faint smile that exposed very rather pink gums. “Why do you need the raise?” I asked. “Because I need money” She answered, in 12

this very mother like tone; as if she thought to herself that I would never be able to understand, so why not tell me anyway. The next words to come out of my mouth would forever set me apart as an ind ividual who would solely operate on instincts and cared very little of the outcome if there was a faint chance of a possibility for the one he desires… “If I could get you the raise from my mom; would you give me a blowjob?”… The moment that would follow that statement was evidence that time could be indeed stopped. She completely froze in her tracks as if out of nowhere all her basic motor skills were incapacitated in the matter of a fraction of a second. I kept looking at her because a voice in me kept i nstructing me to do so, or otherwise all form of hope for a positive outcome would be lost… Then out of nowhere as if all life had just came back to her as quickly as it had left, she slowly emerged her hands out of the soapy bath water, and very gently grabbed my face with both hands. The feel ing of the soap bubbles on my cheeks is still alive within me today. She then leaned in and the voice in my head instructed me to close my eyes just like how I had seen in the movies. She would lay her lips on mine and very softly start licking and pulling on them. It was an unexplainable feeling... She then slowly ran her tongue on my upper lip and it sent a flow of current down my spine; it was electrifying. And as if nothing had absolutely happened, she wrapped me up in a towel and got me ready for bed. And never spoke a word concerning what had just happened; but her and I knew deep down that she had said enough… That night, I was absolutely sleepless. I had just had my first ever kiss and the confirmation of a possible blowjob. I was the 11 year old new monarch of fuckmountain. My excitement would however start to slowly d ie down once I realized that I had absolutely no plan on how to convince my mother to give Philomena a raise, resulting in my blowjob… I fell asleep to the sound of despair… The next Morning when Philomena was getting me ready for school I could definitely sense the awkwardness in the room. The 'I fucked up' look on her face might as well have been a tattoo on her forehead detail ing the events from the night before; this was not looking good. Nervously, she all of a sudden started making awkward conversation. The kind you have with a friend of a friend you are in no way really interested in knowing but must play nice with anyway… “What grade are you in?” she erupted, with a shy smile. “Fifth grade” I replied. She laughed then said: “Next year you will be more educated than I am; I

finished in sixth grade...” Out of nowhere it just clicked. I had it all figured out. I had the master plan and ever ything seemed so clear now. I was going to actually make it happen. I had found a way to get Philomena her raise and get my blowjob… The only thing my mother had wished from me was to just apply myself in school; be a little less of a social butterfly. I was going to give her exactly that…. That day I went to school with every intention of making it the first of the rest of my life. I got in class at 9:30 AM as usual and proceeded through roll call. I was the life of the party at school; roll call was just another stage for me on which to amuse my friends. The problem with that was the fact that it outcasted me from the teachers' good books… That morning however, everything was different. I was completely and utterly silent, and the teacher noticed. That was exactly what I needed. The first half of the day prior to recess were my most active hours in terms of starting a variety of shenanigans in class. That day, I was answering every single question on the board, and when I was not answering a question , I was asking one. Small murmurs started erupting within the class. The natural order of the universe had been profoundly disturbed… Once came recess it was time to set my plan in motion. The recess bell rang and in the same old everyday fashion , crazy herds of 11 year olds were rushing the dodge ball courts and soccer fields chanting hymns of freedom. I stayed behind on my school bench; with an open book… The teacher started walking from the back of the class towards me to find out what was the matter and wh y was I acting so out of character that day… “Hey Rob, is everything ok?” She asked, putting her hand on my shoulder. I looked up at her and smiled. “I made a deal with God yesterday”… She seemed rather shocked by the fact that these were the first words to come out of the mouth of her only pupil she was in the midst of signing up for an exorcism… “What kind of deal?” she asked, in a rather perplexed tone... “That if I came first this semester, my mommy’s headaches would heal forever so she could start helping me with my homework again..” I then proceeded to looking back down at the math homework she had assigned an hour prior. She looked at me with tears almost coming to her eyes and proceeded to sitting right beside me on the bench then say: “And how are you doing with your divisions?”… Fifteen minutes later she had managed to walk me through all thirty five questions and there were all absolutely correct. That afternoon I was in heaven

because I not only had no homework but that night was also the ni ght I would possibly be receiving my first ever blow job… My mom rose from her nap at 5:00pm; as usual she did the first thing she did every single afternoon right after her nap. She came to check if we were deep in the books… To her infuriating surprise, I was nowhere to be seen that afternoon. She then asked my sisters, who were in the midst of their homework duties, if they had seen me anywhere. They were beyond thrilled to inform my mother of my whereabouts in the hope of my possible future misfortune. She proceeded to barge in my room in a very Tasmanian devil like fashion, to find me curled up beside the fan with a comic book in my hands… Her initial reflex had been the throwing of a warning flying flip flop to my forehead to make me understand that the set of events that were about to unfold could very well turn out to be extremely detrimental as far as my physical wellbeing was concerned, but somehow she managed to curb her reprimendatory enthusiasm… “Why are you not doing your homework Rob?” S he inquired, just hoping I say something moronic to give her a reason to assault me... “I finished it mom” I replied, with never before seen confidence in my voice. “Is that right?" She inquired, with a mischievous grin on her face.. Not understanding the material was unacceptable; but rushing through it in order to read comic books, that was the most heinous of all felonies in my mother’s eyes . This could very possibly require my father's involved in the matter, and we absolutely never wanted to get my father involved in any school related affairs… My mother was in the habit of giving him grief because she believed that besides paying tuition fees, he was nowhere nearly as involved in our educational process as he should have been. So when summoned to tak e action in an education related matter, he could be extremely overzealous to show his high level of involvement to my mother… “Bring it to the table, I will check it right this moment”… She then turned around and proceeded to join my sisters on the dini ng room table. I got off the bed, grabbed my book and followed in her steps. As I reached the dining room area, the excitement on my sisters’ faces could merely be contained. They were clearly under the impression that I had rushed through the work and they were about to see some action... As soon as my mother laid eyes on me, she made some angry summoning gesture for the purpose of instructing me to take place beside her and so I did. She

then proceeded to rigorously go over all thirty five equations, lo oking for the mistakes she undeniably bel ieved there to be… Once on question ten, she gave me a look that indicated that in no way, shape or form she believed it was possible that I could have all the answers. On question twenty she was greening like an old woman missing just a few letters for the major Bingo jackpot. On the last question she was speechless and so were my sisters. She however managed to let out a faint “but how?”… It was time; It was now or never. I simply said: “Philomena…” The fact that her name had just came out of my mouth as the reason why for the first time she had seen me ace anything was unconceivable to my mother, and she had all the facial expressions necessary to let me know of the matter. “Philomena did your homework?” She en quired stunned. “No mom; she did not do my homework; I did my homework. She just helped me out that’s all” I said… She then summoned the closest maid in the vicinities and ordered her to fetch Philomena at once. A few seconds later, a faint “Yes madam?” came from the doorway. The fear was beyond evident , judging by her body language. She was afraid I had told and she was losing her job and possibly going to prison… “Philomena”, my mother begun; “When exactly did you put a stop to your school ing?” she asked in authority. “I stopped in the sixth grade madam” she replied, on the verge of breaking in tears… There was a small silence and then my mother begun again. “I want to thank you for helping my son with his homework today Philomena; and to show my appreciation I am going to give you that raise you asked for”… She stood there, all the blood in her face draining downwards. She then looked at me and for a fraction of a second, to this woman I was god. At the tender age of eleven that feel ing would grow to become one of my biggest addictions in life. She managed to let out a small “Thank you, madam” before my mother sent her off to make all the preparations necessary for tea time. The major part of my plan was now executed... Later that night, after my parents had fallen deep asleep, I rose from my bed knowing that I will be coming back into it a man. The sensation I felt walking down those long hallways towards the maid chambers would later manifest itself again the day I walked on stage for my high school graduation. Not only the unbelievable sense of accomplishment but also the feeling of a victory lap on a race towards a gigantic milestone…

When I got to the door of her room, my heart was on the verge of exploding out of my little then very bony chest. My palms were soaked as I was attempting to turn the door handle and there she stood. I was facing her back when I walked in the room. She had no top on as she had just gotten right out of the shower and the only thing she had on was a wet loincloth. She had been imbibing her body in a lotion that smelt like daisies when she slowly turned around and we made eye contact... Her perky lotioned breasts were staring at me in a very amicable way. With the most grateful smile I am yet to see again, she extended her arm, signaling me to come closer. Without a single word spoken, she sat me on her bed and pulled down my pajama pants... She gazed in my eyes again; smiled, and took me in her mouth…. It was everything that I believed it to be and more. Her mouth wa s warm and inviting, her hands gently caressing my small balls as she insisted on further wetting my then unimpressive shaft. She proceeded by stroking it and slowly increasing the speed as she went. I started feel ing sensations in my body I had never felt before. My toes were curling against my will, my pelvis tingl ing, my butt cheeks clinching... Then out of nowhere it happened. I felt a flow of liquid rise from the bottom of my balls to the tip of my shaft at an uncontrollable speed. But this, this di d not feel like peeing. This I felt it in my head. When I reopened my eyes, I saw her wiping off what looked like a clear oily colorless substance off my penis. She smiled and put her index finger on her lips asking me to remain silent… Anthony would later go on to get her pregnant and just like many that came before her, she was exiled to his hometown where he would get to play house with her when he saw it fit…

IN LIFE YOU ROLL WITH THE PUNCHES... By the time I was 14, my obsession with women had cat apulted to an insanitary level. I was fighting Anthony for dibs on the newest help while maintaining a relationship with a girlfriend I knew had no knowledge of all my wrong doings, because in her 14 year old mind, I wasn’t capable of this in a million years…

My friends would sit for hours and talk about their adventures with the fair sex, while deep inside, I humored their lack of experience. But I couldn’t come clean and tell them where I had been. For one, they would not have bel ieved me and second, I felt the growth of a superiority complex. Being light -years ahead of my peers made me feel as if I was destined to be bigger than life. I slowly started migrating towards the older crowds. But even then I felt like a man in a world of children, A god amongst mere mortals. That pornography they were all obsessed with, I was living it…. But turns out I was not the only one living in my secret fantasy side world… Anthony and I had managed to put together the perfect Harem. I was secretly very highly involved in the maid selection process. He would choose them, I would give my ok, and as a show of respect I would always let him do the honors of breaking into them first , while I did what I did best. By the time I was 14 years old I had become what would be consi dered today a professional lobbyist .. Chantal needed extra time off to spend with her family on the holidays? All she had to do was solicit my liaison expertise, I would inform her of the price of my services and all I had to do was work on my mother to se e Chantal get what she desired and I would receive payment. Then Anthony and I would turn around and discuss which one of the girls was more talented at reverse cowgirl… Life was perfect. It would all however change, on a fateful September evening… I came home from basketball practice and as my mother’s driver was pulling into the compound, I could hear loud angry shouting. It was my mother. I stepped out of the car in front of the house and my sisters sat there seeming to be in a complete state of despair. Before words of inquiry could come out of my mouth, out came rushing Monica, followed by a projectile of what appeared to be a frying pan. She screamed and ran for the compound gates as my mother rushed behind her; damning her soul to every god that cam e to her mind… Monica was a tight breasted, light skin little vixen that had started working for my family when she was 19. I loved Monica because her skin was very soft; she had introduced me to the art of foreplay and slow kissing. In a culture where female genital grooming was considered an asset at best, Monica was a maverick… Everything in my parents household was ran on a tight time schedule and she had had a hard time adjusting at first. Like any 19 year old girl, she was a social butterfly. There was clearly no room for her kind in my family’s employment , but Anthony had not hired her for her chicken frying abilities. Her time was my mother’s to coordinate as she saw fit. However there was a time frame when the eye of my mother was not hovering over her head. This was between the hours of

3:00p.m and 5:00pm when my parents took their afternoon nap. She often took advantage of this time frame to wonder outside the compound to tend to her own personal affairs, but this often affected her work and he r position was in extreme jeopardy, which she absolutely could not afford at the time… I saw an opportunity… If I could manage to lessen the workload that she was in charge of in the time frames my mother’s eye was not in the sky, it would allow her to tend to her affairs without jeopardizing her livelihood and I would be generously remunerated. I just needed to allocate her responsibilities to someone else and I knew exactly who... A few weeks after Monica had commenced employment in my parents’ household, my little sisters Jocelyne and Marie decided that they were now grown to the point of operating my father’s electronics. To this day I am still not grown enough to operate my father’s electronics all Willy nilly. In the process, they managed to damage my father’s VCR to the point of disrepair… This was an offense of extreme caliber. Hell would be breaking loose if my father found out. The only person between them and six months of no sailor moon, no Barbies, no bicycles and possibly some quality time with the belt, was I and they knew it. We managed to act as if we had no idea what in the world had happened to the VCR, but they knew the secret could immerge from the darkness at any time unless my will was way. So naturally, I relieved Monica of her afternoon duties by instructing my sisters to take over the work instead, in exchange for my silence. They had no choice but cooperate. Monica was happy; and she made sure I knew how grateful she was at least twice a week… But why was my mother chasing her, as if she had just discovered she was jezebel? I walked in the house and the signs of commotion were everywhere. The first thing I noticed was a stain on the living room wall. The shattered beer bottle pieces on the ground beneath the stained wall were in dicative of a struggle. I looked around me for answers. Anthony was nowhere to be seen… I decided to walk towards my bedroom and what I saw stopped me dead in my tracks… My father, standing against his bedroom door, the long sleeves on his shirt torn off. His face had laceration points indicative of a physical altercation and so did his chest. He looked at me and said something but I had no idea of who was talking to me. Who was this man? This was not my father… He quickly walked towards the washroom to clean his wounds as I sprinted back outside. I could still hear my mother on the verge of losing her mind. “I treated you like a daughter you fucking slut” she yelle d, as I made my way towards

my sisters who were now pretending to play in the gardens in a n effort to be as far away as they could from the then unfolding events. I found the answers to all my questions however, by walking right in the middle of a conversation between the two rear gate keepers… My mother had come home from work earlier than my father had anticipated, found Monica and my father in several compromising positions and decided to physically voice her concern on the matter… This was absolutely too much for me to comprehend. I kept telling myself that this was just a horrible nightmar e and I was going to wake up from it and go back to my perfect world… Reality however set in when looking for my mother, I found her in the sunroom curled up in a chair, hysterically crying. I had never seen my mother like that. My heart shattered on the spot. I had seen her cry before, she had lost several family members during the war and the first couple months that followed the aftermath, we were at a funeral every other week. But these, these were the tears of a broken heart… Those tears that take your breath away by choking you at the thought of stopping them… Her nose was running. I walked towards her and gently wiped her face; I could not stand to see her l ike this. “Please stop crying mommy” I said, with a hint of tearing in my voice. My little sisters had come around the corner; tears in their eyes as well and sat on her lap as my mother begun a series of incoherent complaints about my father… This was not my life. The sadness started to slowly metamorphose into anger. I was angry at my father for putting her in this position but a little part of me felt confused. Was I glad or upset about the fact that my father and I had the same taste in women? Could I even afford to sanely ponder th at question? That night, a household usually full of l ife was silent. I fell asleep to the sounds of my mother cursing my father and was woken up in the middle of the night by those same sounds which were now becoming unpleasantly familiar… I laid in my bed wondering what in the world had happe ned to my perfect l ife; but the only person my thoughts drifted to was not my mother. It was my girlfriend; Amy… Amy and I had started dating in the second semester of 7 th grade. The first semester it was evident to all my peers that I had no interest in girls my age. I wa s fourteen years old having sex with women I can only dream of putting my hands on today, and in like any other situation, if you don’t chase them , they chase you…

She asked me out by handing love notes to her best friend who was a neighbour of mine. I was rather disinterested at first, but it was hard not to seek Amy… She was the most developed girl in her class and her smile was absolutely enchanting. Her physical attributes would play a smaller roll in my decision making process however, compared to the fact of how astonished I was by her advances knowing she had a boyfriend at the time. She was audacious, just like me , and I loved it… Despite all that though, I knew her inexperience was going to be a problem. I had the sex life of a high school quarte rback before she had had the birds and the bees talk. Her father despised me, he sensed that I was not your regular 14 year old and saw nothing but a barrel of bad news for his daughter in me. He proceeded by forbidding our union, which was just what it to ok for me to date her. We snuck around to see each other for a couple months and as time went by we got closer. This infuriated her father even more. It was an African Romeo and Juliet, minus the intercourse… Regardless of her affinity towards our little forbidden union however, Amy had made it crystal clear that at no time she was letting me deflower her. I wasn’t too concerned by the matter view the fact that I already had very effective ways of supporting my sexual appetite, and settled for the good conversation and the steamy make out sessions. It was the first time I genuinely f ell in love with a woman. Her father had gone as far as specifying to the school that under no circumstance we were to communicate. He then fortified his stand by paying off her older cousins who attended the same high school, to take action if necessary. Our only mode of communication was that same best friend who was a neighbour of mine who we still used to mule love notes that specified where to meet in secret… We usually met in the park by the library, we would sit there and I would listen to her talk for hours. I loved the sound of her voice, her smile was white as snow and I did whatever I could just to see hear her laugh. She quickly became my best friend and I just wanted to be with her all the time… As I laid in my bed that night, I saw tears in her eyes, just like the ones on my mother’s face. I imagined her cursing me as my mother was in the midst of cursing my father. I never wanted her to feel that way; not because of me. The following morning, I gave Oda her best friend a note asking her to meet me after school at the usual spot. •

Morning angel, I had a long night, I need to see you. Meet me after school by our tree.. I love you.. Roby..

Later that afternoon Oda returned with a response.

•

Hey babe, It sucks you had a long night I cant wait to see you and make you feel better. I will be by our tree at 3:00pm sharp . I love you more… Amy..

I was decided; I was going to tell her everything. I got to the meeting spot a few minutes before 3:00PM and she was already there. As she caught sight of me, she proceeded to run in my direction. For a fraction of a second, I was caught in the action going on in her small pink shirt. She wasn’t wearing a bra and her maturing breasts seemed to take pleasure in abiding by the Laws of physics… I quickly awoke from my trance the closer she got. She then wrapped her arms around me and the familiar scent of cocoa butter lotion made love to my nostrils… She then held my face in her hands and looked me in the eye. “Are you ok baby?” she asked, seeming genuinely concerned about the state of my well being. “I am alright, wanna sit down?” I replied. She slowly kissed my upper lip, and stood on her tippy toes to kiss my nose. Unexplainable warm th took over me and I began debating telling her the truth, if it could mean losing her… “Ok let’s sit” she giggled. She then grabbed my hand and began guid ing me towards the tree we had carved our initials in a couple months prior. As soon as we sat down, she jumped on me and started kissing me passionately. I ran my hands through her hair and kissed her back then proceeded by slowly pushing her to the side… “I have to tell you something” I sai d, attempting to gather all the will power I could to not jump back into sensual mode. ”Anything babe” She replied.. That is when I went on to tell her about the raucous in my house the night before. She listened with absolutely no interruption. After I was done, she went on to tell me the story of how her parents got a divorce due to similar matters. That was absolutely not what I needed to hear but at least she was trying… “I never want you to feel like my mother” I said to her, while playing with a near by grass blade. Not knowing where I was going to take it fro m there. She seemed baffled by the words out of my mouth. “Why would I feel like that?” she asked, in a perplexed tone. I took a deep breath and looked her in the eye. It was time to face the music. I loved this girl beyond words and I was not going to see her hurt on my account… I would go on to tell her about everything concerning all the sexual encounters I had had when with her. I told her about how it all started and how I worked the system.. It was as if I had vanished and she had no idea of who this person beside her was. She slowly started tearing up and when I tried to hold her she backed away from me…

My heart sunk in my stomach. “Amy, I am sorry…” That was the best I could possibly come up with. She put her head in between her knees in a crouch ed seated position and began sobbing silently. I couldn’t stand the sight of her this way. I came closer, held her in my arms and started kissing the back of her neck letting out small “I’m sorry babe, I’m sorry…” She then lifted her head and looked at me. I wiped off her nose, just like I had done for my mother the night prior ; She kissed my palm in the process. “I’m sorry I didn’t have sex with you” she said, while attempting to put an end to endless flow of tears. Those words broke my heart . I went on a rumble reassuring her that this was in no way, shape or form her fault. I wiped the rest of the tears off her face and kissed her gently. Her lips were trembling and she let out an almost soundless sad moan. “I will never hurt you again ok?” I said, unable to contain the flow of tears that were now streaming down my own face… For the first time in my short life, I regretted all the things that I believed set me apart… “Promise?” she replied,, as she returned the favor and wiped my nose. “I swear baby; I promise…” She laid on my chest in the shed of that tree for another hour prior to parting ways. I kissed her goodbye and watched her walk away. I still had my Amy. I was done with the shenanigans…

THE BEGGINING OF MANY ENDS... The few months that followed my conversation with Amy, marked what seemed to be the end of my parent’s marriage . One of the many attributes that propels the human being to the top of the food chain, is the cerebral mechanism our brains come equipped with. If you look for something long enough, you will see it everywhere… Now that my father’s behaviour was out in the open , details of his other mishaps began to emerge from the darkness. The word on the street was that he had maintained a torrid affair with his secretary who went by the very sensual name of Sharlene for the last year and a half. But this , this was not your regular boss bending his much younger secretary over the ebony executive desk textbook story. Sharlene happened to be the 24 year old little sister of my mother’s best friend; you don’t fuck family. She had just earned her degree in office management when my mother got her the job as a graduation present. What followed was a series of family Pow wows between all concerned parties that saw Sharlene being sent off in exile to her mother’s country ranch as punishment for her reprehensible behaviour...

Fucking your secretary however, is an expected offense from any man in a position of power; you can’t domesticate a wolf. What sent my mother over the edge was the rise of new details on the subject of my father looking after the livelihood of one of the maids that my mother had fired, suspecting her to be romantically involved with him… Claudine had begun working for my parents shortly following the birth of my little sister Jocelyne, she was 18 at the time. My mother quickly grew very fond of her, she was a good worker and we liked her a lot. When the genocide broke out in the mid 90’s, for survival purposes we were confined indoors for the first month ; life was tough. When the privacy of our home was no longer enough to guarantee our survival, a move had to be made. My father had connections within the local administration that could see us over the border in neighboring Burundi. But in like any situation where survival is at stake, challenges d id not cease to appear... My mother had 12 brothers and sisters. Half of them which at the time had on average two children each. Those who survived the massacres in the capital city, made a run for my family’s estate. Being six years old at the time, the life threatening situation we were in seemed like just another family reunion ; my baptismal all over again. My uncle managed to score an abandoned 18 seater van but the number of people exceeded the number of seats by a consider able margin. Family obviously came first; but to my mother, Claudine was family… She made sure she had a seat in that van amongst the other 26 of us. Naturally after the war, she was back in our service as the head maid coordinator for many years to follow. I never attempted to make a pass at her because it just seemed unethical to me; she was like a much older sister. The reality however, was that she had begun a torrid affair with my father when we were in the refugee camp that continued on for several years after the war. My mother suspecting this was the case confronted her about it; she yielded no answers. For precautionary measures, she decided to let her go… The issue at hand here, was the fact that Claudine had nowhere to go now but back to her drunken uncle, who according to certain sources was in the habit of getting friendly with her growing up. He l ived in a very remote country area five hours outside the capital city. My father wasn’t having it; for two years, He managed a task that the electronic age has now shamelessly robbed from all adventurous married men around the world… Every 1 st of the month, Anthony religiously muled an envelope full of cash to Claudine who was now living in a luxurious apartment in the city, courtesy of my father. She was free to do as she pleased as long as she kept her mouth shut, kept a 24

job not to attract my mother’s suspicions in case of an accidental encounter at the market, and most importantly, entertained my father on his weekly visits. That would be the final straw for my mother…. I was doing laps in the pool on a hot Saturday afternoon when my mother approached the edge and asked me to come inside for a chat. “Hey baby, come inside. I want to speak to you." I could see she had been crying. Her eyes get very red when she cries and her face was covered in Klenex residue , indicative of overactive tear wiping. She quickly walked back inside through the patio doors as my sisters gathered around her. I got out of the pool, grabbed a towel and started making my way towards the house. Something did not feel right. Usually when my mother requested audience with me, it very often ended in a long scorned afternoon. But this, this did not feel like one of those moments. It felt like a much bigger cloud was headed to town. I walked through the sun room and into the main foyer then headed straight to the kitchen to grab myself a drink. But as I reached for the refrigerator door, the feeling in my legs suddenly evaded me... Crouched down was my mother, trying to hold my little sisters, for what appeared to be against their will. They were both crying out: “No mommy, don’t go,” but it did not cl ick with me until I saw the two packed suit cases beside her . My mother was leaving; somehow however, no tears were coming to my eyes despite the 20 pound rock that now called my throat home. It was as if I had prepared for this day. I had vicariously been here before , through Amy’s counts of her mother’s departure. It was as if she had given me a barrier against the insurmountable pain my 14 and 11 year old sisters were going through; and as if it was not a task close to the impossible, that moment , I fell deeper in love with her… “Where are you going?” I asked my mother, in a sad but yet defiant tone. She walked towards me and gently grabbed my face. Her hands were moist from all the tears they had wiped off of hers.. “Roby, you are 15 now. I’m sure you have a better understanding of what’s going on between your father and I lately. Your father is a good man who made a lot of mistakes, but he loves you guys more than anything in this world. Him and I do however need time apart right now ok?” She couldn’t contain her tears. She pulled me towards her and held me tight; I began crying but these were no ordinary tears. They felt warm er than usual going down my face. As if a side of me that had never cried before all of a sudden had just decided to let it all out… “Be good to your sisters, ok?” She asked, with a teary smile. “I’m going to stay with your aunt Lawrence and your Uncle Tom for a little while, but I will call you

every single day and see you every weekend.” She started sobbing again. I didn’t know how to make her feel better, my heart was ripping apart. I wanted to be mad at my father, tell him what I thought of him for treating such a devoted wife the way he had done, but the angrier I got, the more similarities between him and I I kept noticing, and that was a worse feel ing than the one I was feeling right there in front of my mother. I kissed her forehead and walked towa rds her suit cases, grabbed the both of them and began walking towards her car. She drove a Mercedes E190 and the trunk on those things could not contain two suit cases that large. I opened the back of the car, threw the remaining suit case in there and went back in the pool. As if the last fifteen minutes of my life had just been a bad dream… The weeks that followed my mother’s departure, I slowly disappeared off the map. I couldn’t stand being home anymore ; My father was now a shadow of himself. He had hit that point in every man’s life where you get handed the bill for all the choices you made so far down the journey; and my father for the first time in his life had now just felt the feel ing of a decl ined credit card. It wouldn’t be his last.. I lost all interest in everything besides the only thing in my life that was going right; Amy. I had told her about my mother’s departure and somehow it brought us closer than ever. We were now inseparable… Every Friday evening, my mother’s driver would pick us up from school and bring us to my aunt and uncle’s estate; which was on average a two hour drive from my father’s..My aunt Lawrence is my mother’s oldest sister and my Godmother. Her husband, my uncle Tom, owned one of the biggest art galleries in central Africa; he had made a fortune rescuing and restoring ancient African artifacts following the genocide of 1994 . They lived in my grandfather’s waterfront mansion that they rented from my father and on the property my aunt ran one of the most successful bar and grill in town due to the touristic activities in the area… My mother, my sisters and I would sit in the beach front gazebos for hours on end. She was losing weight and it hurt to see her like this, my mind would proceed to trying and place blame. I would slowly start getting mad at my father but the stronger that feel ing of resentment became , the more I resented my own self for being the 15 year old carbon copy of the man he was ; that is when I would immediately stop. Naturally, the evolutionary being that I am slowly started getting used to the new arrangements. This was my life now, I just had to make the best of it and move on. Little I knew however, the dance had just begun….

Amy and I were now at the considerable time frame landmark of a year and a half; dating her however, was not getting any easier. Her father had found out that despite his embargo, our little torrid romance was still strong and ongoing . It infuriated him further, which resulted in a decision to monitor the entirety of his daughter’s moves by meticulously planning out every single one of her daily activities. He had nonetheless omitted a small but extremely significant detail. Amy and Oda her best friend shared a n afterschool tutor; which in return resulted in Amy being over at Oda’s on a regular basis and the fact that Oda and I were neighbours, facil itated a lot of encounters… It was a warm Friday afternoon, when Oda stopped by to drop off a note ; It was from Amy. I felt a sense of excitement every time she handed me those, I was the center of someone’s universe and it felt nice . I opened it and the first thing to jump to sight was the signature at the bottom. 'Love you; your Amy…' An inexplicable warmth suddenly took over my body and brought a smile to my face. She wanted to meet up at three behind Oda’s house, she really needed to tell me something and it was urgent . It was probably a warning against another one of her father’s crazy tactics to keep us apart. I wasn’t worried… I carried on with my daily business that day and wh en 3:00 pm came around, I started making my way towards Oda’s house. As I turned around the corner a sudden shortness of breath took over me. She stood at the gate waiting for me in this gorgeous multi-color sun dress that complemented her now 16 year old physique with infinite grace. It was getting harder and harder not to look at her sexually every day, and since I had stopped all my on doings with my maids, I was in a very awkward position. She had however made it crystal clear to me that she was not ready to take our relationship to that level just yet, and I loved her too much to pressure her into anything she was not ready for. I would wait until the time was right. I did not care how long that meant… She noticed me around the corner and immediately started making her way over to me. The closer she got, the larger her smile got. I had never seen anyone so excited to see me and the feeling was beyond words. She i nstantly put her arms around me and we locked lips; the silky material her sundress was made of felt unbelievably good against my skin, so I began to slowly run my hands all over her body as we continued to make out sensually. She was definitely not a little girl anymore. Something took over me and I firmly grabbed a handful of her now jaw dropping ass; to my surprise as I did so, she bit my lip in approval and for a fraction of a second I debated bending her over the gate, lifting her sundress and going on a search mission in her tight little panties as I gently nibbled on her ear from the back…

I decided to refrain myself. 'Not now; Just wait' I kept telling myself…”Baby that was so hot” she giggled, adding to the level of difficulty that it took for me to not jump her sweet little panties. She had long braids that went down all the way to her back now; I moved some away from her face to the back of her right ear and kissed her forehead..“What did you want to talk about?” I asked, with a faint smile on my face. “Oh right, I completely forgot. Sowwy babe” She giggled again, she then held my hand and we began walking. “I have to leave for an unspecified period of time.” Those words felt like a dagger had just been slowly forced through my chest.. That twenty pound rock in my throat I first encountered the day of my mother’s departure was back. “Your dad has had enough of us so he is shipping you away?” I asked, trying to act as casual as I could possibly fake. She laughed and gently hit me on the shoulder. “Actually, speaking of my father, I don’t think he is going to be keeping this up for long” she said, while twirling one of her long braids with her index finger. “What do you mean by that?” I asked, not wanting to get my hopes too high. “Well he and my mom had this huge conversation about us and my mom is on our side and he hates to piss her off .” I had dreamed of a day when Amy and I would not have to sneak around anymore. I was now envious of those friends I secretly mocked, for they could stay on the phone with their girlfriends for hours without the threat of physical harm. Amy and I in a now year and a half, had never spoken on the phone once… Her mother’s new found affinity for me was definitely going to make things a lot easier; the 20 pound rock in my throat suddenly felt lighter. “My grandmother is very ill and we have no idea how much longer she has; She needs me to take care of a few things around the house because she can no longer get out of bed.. Babe I know this is the worst time to be leaving you considering all you are going through right now with your mom and all, but if my father is ever going to ease up on us, I need to do this.” Tears were now rushing her eyes. She understood how I felt, without me even having to say anything. She was perfect; I kissed and reassured her that it was completely fine. She didn’t believe me. She c ould see the hurt through my eyes all the way to my soul… I would emphasize to her that this was a sacrifice for the greater good. That I knew she was doing this for us. She smiled and kissed me; we both laughed because we could taste each other’s tears. We hung out for about another half hour before she kissed me goodbye and walked away… Little I knew, from that moment on, our relationship would never be the same…

ALL THAT GOES UP MUST COME DOWN... The days following Amy’s departure were pure hell, I no longer had an escape and had to face my reality exactly as it was. My father’s sole purpose in l ife was to now get my mother back home, but his path to success seemed non-existent. She wasn’t having any of it . To deal with the pain he turned to the broken hearted man’s best friend; Jack Daniels malt whiskey. I couldn’t stand to seeing him this way, He had become mere replica of his old self. As if things could not get any more complicated for him than they were already, my l ittle sisters were now hinting at the fact that they wanted to go live with my mother. My father had made a numerous number of mistakes in his lifetime , but one thing everyone including my mother were all certain of, is the fact that he really loves his children. They were the reason why he woke up every single morning and worked as hard as he did; he wanted absolutely nothing but the best for us. Losing us was inevitably going to kill him and my mother knew this. Little he knew however, bigger problems were on the horizon… It was a Thursday evening and I had had a long day at Basketball practice. My high school team was now one of the finalists in the regional championship and the coach made sure that we knew this was the opportunity of a life time. The feeling in my knees had evaded me several hours prior, due to an inhumane number of up downs. So when my father’s driver finally entered the gates of the compound, the only thing on my mind then was my sweet, sweet bed… As my pillow fantasy was reaching its excitement peak however, an u nexpected sight caught my eye. It was my mother’s car ; parked in the same spot it had always been for the last 16 years; Mommy was home. It was as if I had just woken up from an 8 hour afternoon nap, my body felt inexplicably alive again . I made my way towards the house with this insane sense of hope and relief , everything was going to get back to normal again. Life as I knew it was now recommencing on a brand new page . A fresh chance for all of us to start over and do it right this time ; the smile on my face in that moment outshined the brightest stars… The instant I set foot in our living room however, my heart skipped a beat. My parents were sitting on a sofa in the middle of the room , and in between them sat my little sisters who seemed to be in a stat e of utter and complete heart break. As soon as my presence got noticed, everything went completely silent . My parents gave me that 'this is not going to be easy' look as I made my way closer. I took a few more steps forward and that's when everything clicked the same way it had done the last time my mother left. There were suit cases in the middle of the living

room floor; but these, these weren’t my mother’s; They were my father’s suit cases... “What’s going on?” I asked. My parents both looked at each other as if they had both expected the other to have the answer when those words came out of my mouth. Finally, my father got up and began walking towards me. As he got closer, I couldn't help but notice how thin he had gotten, but somehow felt no sympathy towards him. He put his hand on my shoulder and asked me to follow him to the sun room. He then walked past me and led the way, I immediately took note of his trials and tribulations at hiding a limp in his step. He suffered from horrible arthritis in his right big toe; with the late stress and the whiskey, it had found a sure safe heaven. Once in the sunroom, I took a seat on one of the bar stools against the liquor counter; the setting sun was beaming against the glass wall giving the plants this reddish color that made the room feel l ike a Scarface poster… My father emerged from behind the bar a few seconds later with what looked like a crystal bottle full of tea. He blew dust off of it and began walking towards me with a childish smile on his face. “Your uncle Alan gave me this bottle the day you were born, God rest his soul. Do you have any idea of what this is Rob?” he asked, sounding like an overzealous vacuum salesman. “No Dad, I don’t know” I replied, trying to seem beyond as disinterested as I already was. He gave me one of those 'You are not going to make this easy, are you? ' look. Then began again: “This, this is one of the only 2000 bottles ever produced of the finest cognac known to man. This, son, is a bottle of Courvoisier L’esprit, valued a s we speak at the generous sum of three point six million francs…” He then pulled out two cognac glasses, sat them on the bar, poured a generous portion in both then looked at me timidly and said: “Go ahead, drink with your old man.” The last time my father had caught me in a state of inebriation was at my Uncle Augustin’s wedding, ten months prior. It had turned out to be one of the most memorable least pleasant experiences of my entire existence. Today was not a normal day. I thought about declining his offer but the scent of cinnamon and coffee beans emitting from the glass made it impossible to say no. I chugged the content of my glass back just as my father had done and it was as if a propane tank had just exploded in my chest. He chuckled at the sight of my facial expressions; “Wakes up the soul doesn’t it boy ?” He was already on to the refills when I made sign for him to stop. The act had gone on for too long. “Dad; what’s going on?” He knew the time had come. The music was on; it was now time to dance. He stared at the content in his glass for what seemed to be an eternity while we sat there in silence; he then pivoted towards me, looked me in the eye and said:“I have been indicted son”…

My father had been asked to appear in front of a grand jury, co ncerning accusations of embezzlement and corruption of senior government officials. It had been a long time coming. Despite my father’s fast ascent to power, he had never forgotten what he really was, because he knew deep down the day would come when they would not hesitate to remind him… Following the loss of the First World War, Germany was very quickly stripped of all its colonies around the world. Amongst those colonies was a small African nation by the name of Rwanda. This small nation being a spoil of war was now judged to be at its safest in the hands of Lady Belgium . In 1919, when Belgian colonialists entered the country, they did the same thing every single colonial power did to assert its power. They divided, and then they conquered. The best option these master chocolatiers had in mind however, was to divide the country in two races that would go down in history as the rivalry that makes the Crips and bloods look like a bunch of hooters waitresses at a Christmas party… The Tutsis were 10% of the population and had always been in power all through out the country’s history, due to a certain mythical sense that had been attributed to a people that claimed itself to be chosen by God to rule over the country. The Hutus on the other end being 90% o f the population, had observed from the side lines for centuries on end until their eyes were opened by colonial forces to the possibil ity of ultimate power due to a larger demographic. With the control of the bigger part of the population established, operation divide and conquer was indeed a go. Hutus would go in office and proceed by voicing their concern on the way the distribution of power had been established for the last 200 years or so, by exiling Tutsi families on all corners of the world. Tutsis not taking too well to their new living arrangements however, would express their displeasure by assassinating the Hutu president. Hutus not being huge fans of the whole concept behind freedom of expression, would in return retaliate by slaughtering a mill ion innocent Tutsi civilians over a period of three months.. To put it all in perspective, the Nazis were responsible for the death of six million Jews in World War II, over an entire period of six years. The Hutu militia had managed to triple the daily killing average of the third Reich, with absolutely no modern warfare technology and no concentration camp system ; Hell had settled on earth. My father however, in the eyes of both parties , he was the worst of them all. A moderate Hutu was ten folds worse than a Tutsi in the eyes of Hutu extremists. He had not only soiled his race by marrying my mother who was a Tutsi, but then he had the toupee of sneaking a large portion of her family away to safety. This was unacceptable to the Hutus; to teach him a lesson in racial etiquette, they murdered his little brother, my uncle Alan...

Luckily however, Hutus were no longer in power. The new Tutsi government after assuming office made it a mission to pursue all Hutus involved in war crimes . A valiant effort, until committing larceny by accusing innocent Hutus of Genocidal acts as well in order to forcefully acquire their property, became a lucrative business for Tutsis in charge of the prosecution system. Commandeering the assets of a man in my father’s position despite how well connected and wealthy he was, was still a walk in the park. Yes he had had no involvement in the massacres , but nonetheless he was still a Hutu; in the eyes of the new regime,he just had to go. And when lady justice is no longer bl ind, there is no use in seeking her help. My father from there on, fearing for his life , decided to seek asylum in the United States… In African tradition, leaving the country even if it is to go on vacation , or a week long business trip, as long as it involv es flying, it automatically becomes cause for a family gathering. Bidding farewell consists of a ritual involving a heavy consumption of alcohol that is followed by accompanying the flying individual to the airport where another considerable amount of alcohol is again consumed as the party watches the plane take off and proceed to wave at it until they no longer see the lights in the sky. That evening, I watched my father get on a plane. It looked the same as any other time I had seen him get on one for one of his many business trips. But this time, this time it felt different. I wasn’t asking myself what he was bringing me back from his trip ; because he wasn’t coming back. The weeks that followed my father’s departure , would forever change the course of my existence…

AN APPLE ON A STEEP HILL ROLLS AWAY FROM THE TREE.. My mother was back home now, and in her eyes, if every school related matter was taken care of, you were free to do as you pleased. The trouble with that theory however, was the fact that school was now out for the summer, and I had nothing on my hands but a politically exiled father and a girlfriend that had been out of town close to 6 months by now. Mischief was now my only option of choice and I knew exactly who to call… My uncle Kennedy was my mother’s youngest brother. Being the youngest of 12 children in a filthy rich family however, had been no help as far as the discipl inary portion of his upbringing was concerned. By the time he was 19 years old, he had managed to blow through half of his trust fund on a chicken exporting business that him and a dear friend of his who went by the name of Staz believed to be a fortune 500 idea. The following Christmas, my Uncle John would refer to the 32

incident in a tone that offended Kennedy to the poi nt of sleeping with his own brother's wife as a form of expressing the degree of his distaste; this resulted in him getting kicked out of my grandfather’s compound. He was now living in an apartment downtown and if there was one man who i could call upon for a good time, it was him. I picked up my cell phone and looked for his number; it rang twice and a voice on the other end yelled out: “Young black !! just the man I was looking for!!! Whatsup baby?”. For a second I froze and asked myself what it would have been like if my whole entire family had been decimated during the war and this was the only man left on earth to take care of me. It immediately sent chills down my spine… “Keeeeennnyy!!! I heard the word on the street tonight is you are picking up your favorite nephew in about a half hour and in the spirit of family, are pounding back some beers on this here Saturday evening!!!” I erupted. “Those words are music to my ears dear nephew; but check this out I need you to do me a favor ok?” I had never liked the sound of those words coming out of his mouth for as long as I had known him. “Alright Kenny, what is it?” I replied, with a sigh in my voice. “I need to borrow your loan mower” he begun , “There is this hot little piece of ass, her name is Lisa. Sweetest little lips, but if I ever want to go down on those bunnies again, I gotta help her with some gardening tomorrow morning .” I couldn't help but explode in an uncontrollable laugh. “Kenny, you have never gardened a day in your life. How the fuck are you going to be any help to this girl?” I replied, still unable to control my euphoria... He took a few seconds then said: “That Dear nephew, we’ll figure it out once we get there. I am worried about right now, and this is what right now is about to look like ok? You are about to hang up the phone and head to your gardener’s shed. In there you will find a Lawn mower that you will then extract from the shed, and put aside for your uncle. In the mean time in a land not that far, far away, your uncle will be washing the puke and pussy off his breath on the way to go grab some beers and pick up his favorite nephew for yet another night of pure Alpha male debauchery.." Arguing with this man was impossible, one way or another he would manage somehow to convince you that you are being silly for not jumping at his command. I decided to abdicate. “Alright Kenny, be here in a half hour” I said, rather irritated. “Give me an extra five on that big guy; the sweet scent of vagina on tongue requires a few extra scrubs ." I laughed and hung up the phone. Kenny would pull up two hours later with a rather large cut on his forehead, swearing at the top of his lungs. “Bitch just tried to kill me man !!!”… The story behind the blood was that Kenny’s Russian girlfriend Katia , had plans of a dual romantic evening with her best friend and her new fiance. Kenny

on the other hand decided to politely decline this most enticing of invitations upon it being extended to him; Katia then proceeded to express her thoughts on third wheeling in a rather uncivilized manner that later on resulted in Kenny’s alarming wounds. “Do you see this?” he asked, pointing at his forehead laceration. “This is the cost of carrying good dick. That poor woman lost her mind at the thought of not being able to parade chocolate thunder in front of her little girlfriend and her asshole fiance. It drove her to act in madness ." He then looked up to the sky, grabbed a handful of his own manhood and screamed: “Oh good cock!! Oh you sweet blessing!! Oh you evil curse!!”… While too busy enjoying the comic relief my uncle was finding in assault and battery causing bodily harm, I failed to notice my mother pull ing up in the driveway. “Does any of you two care to explain to me what my Lawn mower is doing outside my garden shed, in the hands of you two clowns?” Kenny quickly put out the cigarette he was smoking and begun trying to bury it in a flower pot close by. My mother’s blood pressure instantly reached unexplored heights. “Not in my fucking flower pot Kenny!!! What in the world is wrong with you?” My uncle suddenly began laughing hysterically. “I’m really glad all this amuses you Kenny. I really am." Up until that fateful evening, I was unaware that my mother ha d the ability to swell very much in the fashion of the python when severally provoked… My uncle realizing that this could very quickly turn into round two of his earlier demise but at the hand of my mother this time , decided it was not wise to carry on the none sense. “C’mon sis, I was just teasing. Force of habi t huh!” he replied, in an attempt at an appeasing tone. “Force of habit? Ha! Was it a force of habit as well, when you had sex with your brother's wife over an argument?” My mother was now shooting to kill; “He asked for that one.” Said my uncle in all seriousness. "Plus, she is older. She technically took advantage of me." I saw rage in its purest form in my mother's eyes right then. “Get your shit together Kenny, you are 26 years old for Christ’s sake .” she then turned around and faced me ; “And you, don’t think for one second that because your father is 26000 miles away you can go around doing whatever the hell you want, because if you do, you must be outside your mind and I would be more than happy to show you what I mean by that. Now put my Lawn mower back in my garden shed!!!”.. “Yes ma’am” I humbly responded as she then walked inside the house. As soon as the door closed behind her, my uncle’s voice immerged from behind me in the form of words that would go on to trigger a set of events leading to one of the most temptation filled moment of my life. ”Get dressed; we are going to party with some Americans”… My uncle drove a 1984 BMW M5, the two door coupe edition. The entire car smelled like menthol cigarettes and barely legal pussy, sitting in the front seat I

could not help but feel like a man on the path to my first ever non solicited venereal disease. To make matters worse, the back seat was cluttered with marijuana consumption paraphernalia and clothing items. “Why don’t we just go to the bar ken? You know my Engl ish is not that great. I don’t know how much fun this is actually going to be." He reached in his cigarette pack and tried to hand me one and I made a dismissal gesture to let him know I was not taking it. I had experienced my first cigarette a couple weeks prior and was fighting hard not to develop a habit. “Don’t worry Nephew, Lou is cool as shit, you will like him. Plus you better start getting used to speaking English , sooner or later yourself, your mom and your sisters will have to join your dad in the states”… Rwanda having been a Belgian colony, the main foreign language that was spoken was French. I had attended French speaking schools my entire life and even though we had English courses, my lack of fluency in the language was a so urce of self-confidence issues when confronted with the possibility of holding an entire conversation in nothing but the language of god. Before my uncle had made that statement however, I had never actually given it any thought. He was right: It was only a matter of time before I had to get myself used to a new language, a new culture, a new race. That would later turn out to be the least of all my worries… We pulled up to the parking lot of the Meridian Hotel and as soon as my uncle pulled in a parking spot, his cell phone rang. He appeared mortified at the sight of the number on the caller I.D, but still proceeded to answering the call anyway. After a few seconds of absolutely no dialogue coming from my uncle’s side of the phone, he hung up and turned towards me. “I am going to need you to chill here with Lou for a few minutes; I have to make a quick run back into town ." I was absolutely livid; “Ken, what the fuck man? These are your friends, not mine. You can’t just toss me to them and run off to go abou t your fucking business knowing we had plans."The possibility of physical confrontation was quickly becoming more and more attractive in my mind right then… “Alright Neph, look I am sorry ok” he begun, I quickly interrupted him. “Take me with you then, if you are not going to be that long." I had rarely ever seen my uncle in a situation where he clearly seemed to have his back to the ropes and this was one of them. “Stop being a fucking pussy ok? I told you. This is urgent but I will not take any longer than 20 minutes, Lou is an awesome cat. You will love him. I am going to take you upstairs and you will hang out there for a bit and as soon as I am back the party will be on and popping alright? C’mon!!” He then opened the driver side car door and proceede d to walk towards the Hotel. A small voice in my head advised me to make my way out of the car and head for the nearest bus stop as quickly as I possibly could, but the thought of sitting at home

on a Friday night seemed like an unbearable option. I should have listened to that little voice… The Meridian was a midsize resort right in the middle of the capital city Kigali. It attracted a rather large crowd of tourists visiting the region of the great lakes view the fact that it had been ranked number three best hotel in Africa by Times magazine, due to its four Olympic size swimming pools and an immaculate service. It was the epitome of luxury; walking in the lobby, I kept getting these flashbacks of my family sitting on the side of one of the mega pools hav ing Sunday brunch while my father socialized with a group of the same elitist friends we saw here every single Sunday. Where were those days now? I missed my father ; It had been almost a year now since his departure . My l ittle escapade to a time that once was would very suddenly be interrupted by a very deep voice that resonated from the solid gold coated elevator doors. “Kenny, over here!!”My uncle turned around, smiled and began walking towards a long blond haired man of Caucasian descent. We entered the elevator and he gave my uncle a big hug. “Lou, this is Roby, my sister’s boy. Roby this is Lou Wagner a good friend of mine”… Lou Wagner was a 40 year old ex U.S Army ranger lieutenant, who was now one of the most prolific listees on Interpol’s most want ed l ist for several crimes including arms trafficking. Lou had first set foot in Africa back in 1993 as a member of the 160 th special operations Aviation regiment which was then in charge of over throwing Somalia’s strong arm, Mohamed Farrah. As opposed to his many fallen companions however, Lou managed to have a grand old time in Africa. On the eve of operation Gothic serpent, which would later inspire a movie by the name of Black Hawk down, Lou wondering the suburbs of Mogadishu, heavily armed, inebriated, and depressed by the thought of what seemed to be his imminent death, managed to meet a woman at a local bar… This woman’s name was Theresa Konstantinovich. Theresa was a Ukrainian arms dealer under the disguise of a U.N Peace Corps volunteer. October nights in Mogadishu were often long, perilous and lonely for Theresa and she was in dire need of companionship. Following several hours of animalistic intercourse, Theresa decided it was a good idea to reveal the true nature of her stay in Africa to Lou, who half way down her revelation decided to stop her. He had heard enough; He wanted in. What followed would be nothing short of a modern day Bonnie and Clyde. With nothing but their burning affection and a few Antonov planes full of AK-47s, Lou and Theresa would work their way to a considerable fortune, one African war lord at a time. Lou’s life would dramatically change however, when on a trip to Liberia for a quick meet and greet with Lucifer himself, Mr. Charles Taylor, the convoy that was transporting T heresa and himself

from the airport to Mr. Taylor’s palace, found itself under attack from a fraction of the Liberian opposition. Theresa was killed instantly; and Mr. Taylor as a sign of sympathy towards his favorite death retailer in his tragic time of mourning, decided to introduce Lou to a new client. This client was a young man that was in the midst of starting a rebellion in a small central African nation by the name of Rwanda, that Lou would later on come to call home due to very lenient extradition Laws. With no passport and more money in his bank account than the entire nation of Madagascar itself , Lou decided to help the Rwandan post war economy by purchasing out right, the penthouse floor of the most prestigious resort in the country where he wou ld spend the rest of his glorious day s snorting cocaine off the back of special disease free American imported hookers… “Does he speak English?” He asked, looking at my uncle . “Yes, I speak English" I responded, making no effort to hide how irritated I w as. “Alright, It’s a party then!!” He exploded in a chuckle, tapped my uncle on the back, and suddenly the elevator doors parted open to reveal a room full of either half or fully naked women. I knew chances were if I stepped foot outside of this elevator, I might not step back in it the same man. But I took the step anyway. “Welcome to my very humble abode gentlemen” said Lou, with a bright smile on his face. He then turned towards me and said: “Mi casa being Su casa, you are free to help yourself to anything in here. The alcohol, the pussy, the yayo,” He then suddenly put his hand upon his lips and turned around to give my uncle the look of a child that had just realized it said a bad word in the presence of its mother. “This kid was fucking by the time you first landed in Baghdad brother. I wouldn’t worry about him if I was you” replied my uncle, in an alarmingly casual tone . “The gulf war?" asked an intrigued Lou,"that was a long time ago; stories have to be shared friend. Stories shall indeed be shared; but first, we drink!!!”… As Lou ran towards the suite bar to fetch some expensive imported liquor, I took a look around the room and wondered what my mother would think if she was to receive a picture of myself in this exact moment . That terrifying day dream would however be quickly interrupted by a female voice that resonated from behind me calling out my uncle’s name . “Kenny!!!!” I turned around to find him getting affectionately assaulted by a young woman who seemed to be in her early 20s. She had long brown hair and the body of a professional tennis player. Her million dollar smile was complimented by the most enchanting light brown eyes I had yet to see. Her skin had developed a tan worthy of envious eyes due to countless hours under the warm African sun. As she jumped on my uncle and wrapped her legs around his waist, my uncle joyfully yelled out: “Carmen darling ,

How are ya?” Despite how mind bogglingly attractive Carmen was, she was not top ten material compared to the rest of Lou’s harem. Something did however make her very strongly stand out of the group. She was fully dressed… “Let me introduce you to my nephew." My uncle proceeded to help her off of him and they walked down the flight of three marble steps in my direction . “Carmen, this is my nephew Roby. Roby this is Carmen Wagner. Lou’s little sister." She smiled and extended her hand in order to shake mine and a suddenly violent erection announced its presence in my boxers. “Pleasure meeting you Roby." I thought I ejaculated to the sound of those words. “Pleasure is all yours. OH! Wait, no, all mines?” Reality had just kicked in, in the form of a language barrier that made my erection fade in thin air as quickly as it had appeared.. “Oh my god! You have the cutest French accent when you speak English!!” she said, with a large smile on her face. “And in this case, yes you are right. The pleasure is , all mine." As she finished her sentence, she bit her bottom lip in a provocative smile. My English was not that great , but I was fluent in body language; and the message was loud and clear… “Carmen, I need you to do me a sol id ok?” She all of a sudden had an exasperated look on her face at the sound of those words from my uncle . “Kenny, every time you or my brother say that, it rarely ends well." I bursted out in a loud chuckle because I knew exactly what she meant by that . “No, no I promise it’s nothing like last time” replied my uncle, waving his hands energetically in emphasis. For a fraction of a second, I began wondering what my uncle exactly meant by that, but a little voice in my head instructed me that this blanket of cluelessness over my head was a much safer place to be in . “Alright Kenny, what is it?” she replied, in an abdicative manner. “I have to quickly run into town and take care of something. You are going to hang out with Roby for a bit until I come back ok? Give him some insider secrets on American girls will ya? He is moving there soon." She appeared immediately excited by this new and unusual task. “Aye, Aye captain; that I can surely do” She said, as she smiled and gave me a very suggestive full body scan. “Alright Pal, I will be right back alright? Lou and Carmen are good people. Make yourself at home and as soon as I am back, this party is on ok?” said my uncle, with his hand on my right shoulder. “You would say what? like an hour or two give or take?” I asked, knowing exactly that I realistically had to double that time frame in order to not be outrageously disappointed. “Exactly!!” he repl ied, seeming rather pleased by my sudden cooperation. He then kissed my forehead, gave Carmen a hug and walked towards the gold plated elevator doors…

“C’mon let’s get out of here." She extended her arm toward me and I noticed her nail polish. Three stripes of Red, Green and yellow; it was the colors on my country’s flag. That's when I began wondering what my cock would look like in her hands. “Nice nails” I said, with a smirk on my face. “You really ought to get better at masking those facial expressions if you are going to be lying to America n girls in a near future." Her words caught me completely off-guard. It wasn’t hard to notice my disdain for what I then considered a tacky manicure , but very few girls would have had the courage to bring up my true feelings on the matter despite their knowledge. Her advice would however later turn out to be incalculably wise… I laughed as I grabbed her hand and followed her towards the elevator doors. Walking behind her was a treat and a root canal at the same time. On one hand, I was thinking of my poor girlfriend tending to her ill grandmother, under the impression that I was at home fulfilling the promise I had made to her. On the other hand, the primate that seemed to be trapped inside Carmen’s Versace jeans was insisting that the only humane thing to do was for me to free it . I began wondering what went through my father’s head the last time he had been confronted with a simular predicament..“Where are you taking me? My mommy told me to never follow strangers” I said, in a playfully childish tone. She turned around and grabbed my hand with both hers as she continued to walk backwards then said: “Don’t worry, I will be gentle ." She then smiled, turned around and grabbed a bottle of Grand Marnier that was seating on a nearby counter. This was not going to be easy… The rooftop of the penthouse suite was composed of a Helipad and a small Gazebo with pink see through curtains that housed two roman style beds . “Nice setup, is this where you usually bring all your victims? Or am I just too cute for the dungeons?” She bursted out in a chuckle and tapped my shoulder in response; just how Amy was in the habit of doing. I began feeling guilty about flirting with her. I then waited until she was seated on one of the beds and I took the opposite one. “Are you too cool to sit with a white girl or are you scared I’m going to bite? Because if that is the case, let me reassure you that I only bite when explicitly asked to” she said with a smirk on her face ; I couldn’t help but laugh… “Nah, I actually am supposed to be in a complete state of quarantine right now, I happen to be very radioactive. The gentleman thing to do right now is to just maintain my distance in order to keep you from exposure ." She emitted a couple more loud chuckles, opened the bottle of Grand M arnier, took a big swig and passed it to me. As I drank from it, she began again: “Ha! I think I know exactly what the deal is with you now mister” she said, after taking a few puffs of the joint she had just lit . “Is that right?” I replied, in a slightly condescending

tone… “Ummhmm!!” she shot back, with the facial expression of a child in the possession of a big secret . “Alrighty then Doctor Freud; Let’s hear it, Analyze me.” I said, while taking hits of the joint she had just handed me . “You have a girlfriend don’t ya?” As my brain was in the midst of processing that statement, I choked on the marijuana smoke and my eyes began tearing up. I knew this moment would come sooner or later, but what I dreaded the most was the decision making process that was to come with it. I had not had sex in what was a little over a year now, but on the other hand I had made a promise to my girlfriend that I had every intention to keep, the issue with that otherwise noble avenue however, was the fact that the Marijuana and Grand Marnier combination was definitely counseling me otherwise..“Do you know what I don’t like about you, Carmen Wagner?” I said, in attempt to delay having to answer her question “What’s that?” she replied, with an intrigued smile. “You are the only woman I know, who does not absolutely love to talk about themselves” I said, while taking another swig out of the Grand Marnier bottle. “Awww Muffin, you don’t like the lime light? I had no idea black guys actually could blush” she replied, in a mocking tone. The marijuana hallucinogenic effects had just started to manifest themselves and I couldn’t help but enter a state of great euphoria upon her statement… She got up from the bed she was sitting on and took a look outside the pink see through curtains. As she stood there peeping, I couldn't help but feel a deep sense of faith in God; because no man on this earth was wise enough to conceive such an astonishing waist to booty ratio. She then turned around, faced me and very casually asked: “Have you ever been with a white girl before Roby?” I could no longer run from this, the fine l ine was no longer an option. I had to make a decision; I kept thinking of my father and how I had spent the last couple months ostracizing him for his actions; and now here I was , confronted by the same temptations. I wondered if the thought of my mother had crossed his mind just like the one of Amy was daunting mine right now. I wondered how he had gotten over it and carried on knowing that he was putting everything he loved and had worked so hard to maintain on the line. It was not long before I found out… “No Carmen Wagner, I have never been with a white woman before ." It was as if those words had now opened sesame. She smiled and began to very slowly undo the zipper on the corset she was wearing as a top. She had nothing underneath it but beautifully tanned, confident Double D breasts. As she started crawling from the bottom of the bed making her way towards me , time froze. The moments that followed would very deeply enhance my understanding of the holy book due to the fact that for the first time in my life, I knew exactly what Eve felt like when the

devil was tempting her with that apple . “You Sir, then should fuck me” she said, as she bit her lip and firmly grabbed on to my b elt. I tried to summon every ounce of courage I had in me to push her back but there was nobody home . I had really picked the wrong place to get high for the first time ... She pinned me to the bed with both my arms spread out then sat on top of me and laid her lips on mine. I kissed her back ; As soon as she let go of my arms, she arched her back, took off her corset and tossed it to the side while still sensually making out with me. Her skin felt heavenly as I ran the tip of my fingers slowly down her bare back. As I got to her tail bone, I reached in her jeans and firmly grabbed a handful of her magical rear. She responded by emitting a sensual moan as I gently pulled on her tiny G string. She then proceeded by quickly removing my T-shirt as I reached for her breasts and gently started running my tongue all over her erected nipples. As a sign of approval, she moved back and began to undo my belt. She could feel how excruciatingly hard I was , and she couldn’t wait to get acquainted with my manhood. As I sat there and observed her struggling with my belt, I could smell the lust oozing from her pores , and that’s when it hit me. Everything around me suddenly went dark and the only thing I could see was the face of my crying mother. I had seen the consequences o f the actions I was in the midst of accomplishing and yet had turned a bl ind eye to them just as my father had done. I had made a promise to a girl that arguably was the best thing to ever walk into my life and I was not about to break it… “Carmen, hold on" I said, while holding her hands on my belt as she was still trying to undo it. “Something wrong?” She asked, rather astonished by the fact that I was probably the first man in his right mind to ever ask her to stop in a scenario like this one. “Oh! No don’t get me wrong, I am having a fantastic time right now. The thing is that I just can’t carry on.” I might as well just have spat in her face judging by the look she gave me. “What the fuck Roby? Unless you suffer from a chronic case of erectile dysfunction which despite my small medical expertise can see it’s not the case, what could possibly be the reason why you are asking a girl to stop?” she asked, sounding unquestionably l ivid. I laughed and then proceeded to pulling her by my side on the bed. She laid on my chest, still topless and gave me these heart wrenching puppy eyes . “Don’t you find me attractive? Because I like to think that I have very nice tits Rob” She said, in the tone of a lost and confused child. I laughed again, kissed her forehead, m ade her lay on her stomach, sat on her back and began to give her a back massage. She moaned in appreciation. “Don’t misinterpret this darl ing. I do concur with you on the angelical nature of your tits, but unfortunately things are a tad bit complicated for me right now”…

That is when I went on to tell her everything; starting with my girlfriend. Half way through my story she sat up and l it another joint. “So you are moving to the states now?” she asked, as she passed the joint. “Yup, that’s what it looks like." I was beginning to love this feeling, It was as if everything just got lighter with every hit. “Do you know why I painted my nails the color of your country’s flag?” she asked, longingly observing them. ”I just assumed you were high and lost a bet; speaks no short of you though darl ing, it shows that you honor your wagers." She smiled and gave me a deadly look. ”You are a funny one aren’t you?”… “A one what? A nigger?” I replied, pretending to be shocked. She laughed and threw a pillow at me then said: “Things are so much simpler here ; it's warm, beautiful and easy going. I never want to leave.” That logic made absolutely no sense to me , view the fact that the only reason why she was having the time of her life in a war torn county, was solely because her brother was filthy rich and had inside government connections. Only a select few shared her point of view. I would however later on in life come to find out that I was a member of that select few; the hard way… I had not finished pondering the then lack of sense behind Carmen’s statement, when her brother's deep voice erupted from the other side of the Helipad calling out her name. “Carmen!!!” We both instantly looked at each other. “Fuck, that’s my brother” she erupted. Being heavily under the influe nce at that time, Carmen’s rather displeased reaction at her brother’s summons came as a complete surprise to me, until it all finally made sense; She had no top on this whole entire time . The closer her brother’s steps got, the more we panicked. It was no w dark outside and unless there was a scheduled landing, they were not turning on the lights on the roof. “Where the fuck did I throw it?” She asked in a whisper. We both quickly got on our knees to look under the bed but as we were both coming up, we heav ily bumped heads. She let out the most bonner inducing giggle I was yet to hear. I couldn’t help it; I kissed her..As we locked l ips, my reality became ever more evident. I was about to die by the hand of an ex U.S Army ranger and chances were that lady justice would still remain on his side view the fact of who my father was. I thought of getting on both knees and begging for mercy but then wondered what I would do if I was ever to walk on to my sister in bed with a guy. Mercy no longer seemed l ike an attainable goal, even though I would later on in l ife get to find out firsthand the answer to my question… Fortunately, in like any life or death situation, I did exactly what any other human being would do. I let my instincts take over. As soon as my adrena line kicked in, I pulled Carmen off of me, shoved her under the bed and jumped on it just in time to say: “Lou!!! Over here ." As soon as those words left my mouth, Lou was spreading open the Gazebo’s curtains. “Did you not hear me call out 5 minutes

ago boy?” He was coked out of his mind and seemed quite displeased by my rather nonchalant position on the bed. I took a deep breath and looked him in the eye . “Sorry man, your sister went downstairs to grab some more booze and I dozed off; couldn’t hear you.” He then broke eye contact and gave the entire gazebo a detailed scan while my heart begged my throat to let it out before it was too late… “My sister is not downstairs” He said, still scanning the Gazebo for suspicious activities. Now my intestines had joined my heart in unison. “Well, now you are starting to worry me Lou. If you were on your way up here five minutes ago, there is absolutely no way you guys did not run into each other." He appeared intrigued. I knew military men were paranoid by nature beca use some of my mother’s cousins were in the army. This was my opportunity to get out . I sprung off the bed at the speed of l ight and grabbed Lou by the arm; I then waited until he clearly saw how intoxicated I was so he could have a valid explanation for m y strange behaviour then said: “This cannot be good Lou. Let’s go look for her!!!” I then rushed out of the gazebo and led the way towards the suite... Lou followed in my steps thinking I was completely out of my mind. Once in the suite, I called out her name a couple of times then said: “Ok, I’m freaking out now!!!” as I kept looking around frantically. “Calm down boy, you are high and drunk!!!" said Lou, on the verge of calling my uncle for help. My ruse had worked; “Ok you stay up here, I’m going to look for her downstairs. We will find her Lou!!! We will find her!!!” I made my way towards the elevator and held my breath until I reached the nearest bus station. It wouldn’t be my last time in the right place at the wrong time…

WHEN IT RAINS IT POURS... I woke up the next morning to the sounds of my mother banging at my bedroom door. “Come to the sun room, there is some tea. I have to talk to you." These words had by now metamorphosed into a full blown phobia. As if that was not problematic enough, a failed attempt at opening my eyes informed me of a rather large difference of opinions between my brain and sun light. This had all the makings of a long day. I painstakingly began dragging my feet towards the sun room to join my mother; and as I did so my mind kept flashing back to the night before. I wanted to be proud of not falling in the hands of temptation but the more I forced it, the more it felt like a lie. I looked at the clock on the livingroom wall

and to my astonishment , it was only 7:35 in the morning on a Saturday. What could this woman possibly want from me so early in the day?... I pulled a chair next to her and filled a glass with Orange juice. I then took a sip of it, followed by a bite out of a nearby croissant; and that's when she began: “A lot of things are going to be different in a very near future Rob ." I wanted to tell her to take a look at the last couple months. Change had become an unsavory addiction in this household. “That’s kind of been the IT thing lately mom " I said, in a casually defiant tone. She poured herself some tea, stirred it up, turned towards me and said: “I have to go join your father." There were not enough nerves in my stomach to process the amount of pain those words had just caused it upon being spoken..“What? what do you mean you have to go join Dad? What about us?” I said, trying to do my best to sound as coherent as I possibly could then. “It’s in order to make the immigration process a lot easier; There has been some changes in our situation." I dreaded the thought of asking her what sorts of changes but found myself with no choice, so I did. Her answer would mark the beginning of my journey towards rock bottom… “All your father’s local assets have been seized; we have no more money in the country. We have to sell everything.." For a long time I lived my l ife under the impression that the sorrow I felt in that moment really accurately reflected the amount of heartache those words had caused overall in my life. Was I ever wrong; this was only the beginning. In order to receive permanent residency in the United States, if one had over half a million dollars in assets and goods, the process would then be expedited due to the fact that chances were, you were not entering the country to be a burden on the social syste m. With the seizure of my father’s assets though, things were about to get a tad bit more complicated… The bulk of his net worth being in the country, and having been living off the little over a hundred thousand dollars that he kept in American banks as business trip money for the last year and a half, my father had now if he ever wanted to see his family again, the major task of starting an immigration process that would cost considerable time and money; which according to my mother, we no longer had the luxury of..“So what are we like poor now or something?” For a fraction of a second, I thought my heart stopped at the sound of those words. It was my sister Jocelyne; she had overheard the entire conversation between my mother and I. She signaled her to come closer and as soon as she sat down, my mother rushed to hold her in her arms. “No honey, we are not poor. We just have to start over; we’ll be fine as long as we have each other”…

My father’s departure had brought him and my mother closer together. Th ey now spoke on the phone three times a day and she had paid him two visits over the course of a year. The word on the town was that in his loneliness and despair, my father like any other human being faced with what they believe to be insurmountable challenges, had found God. According to my mother, he was now a frequent church goer who often made angels sing praises from the heavens once the collection plate reached his now extremely generous hands. My mother being a fervent bel iever herself, had found this new and unsuspected spirituality from my father extremely appealing, and had decided to give the marriage another shot... The following months, I would spend them watching everything my father had worked so hard to provide for his family, sold to the h ighest bidder. It was not before long until all we had left was the roof over our head. I started slowly drifting towards substance abuse to numb the pain; but even my father’s expensive liquor was not enough to drown the sorrow; yet little I knew, I was a bout to uncover the real meaning of heartache… It was late in the afternoon and I had just finished showing a neighbour my parent’s bedroom set. My mother was usually in charge of the selling process but this time I felt like the humane thing to do was to spare her the humiliation of auctioning off her own boudoir at the measly fraction of its original cost . My cell phone rang from my room and I rushed to pick it up. My heart would skip a beat at the sound of the voice on the other end... “Hello, babe? It’s Amy”… I had never heard the sound of her voice over the phone before. If this was a dream and at that specific moment I had the choice to either wake up or never do so ever again, I would have gladly chosen the latter. It is amazing how a simple Hello from a single human being that is dear to your heart has the potential of taking all your doubts and worries away. It was as if in a fraction of a second, the burden caused by my exiled father, the loss of every material thing I had ever held dear and the fact that my family was undeniably poor now, had all been a bad dream and I had just finally woken up to the sounds of my father’s voice instructing me to start getting ready for school again… “Hey princess, are you back in town?”… She went on to tell me about how her grandmother had passed and they had laid her to rest the day before. I felt a sudden urge to hold her in my arms and judging by the impatience in her tone, she could not wait to see me either. We agreed to meet later that day at the same usual spot by our tree. As soon as I hung up the phone, my big empty house did not seem that empty anymore; finally things were looking up again. Or so I thought…

The hours that followed our short phone conversation, prior to our meeting, I was absolutely restless. Every activity I could think of to pass time, I performed it. From laps in the pool to cooking my family dinner, I even caught myself deeply absorbed in a French-Hebrew dictionary that was lying around the house. Yet the minutes still seemed l ike months… Finally however, the moment came and I started making my way towards the park. As I speed walked down the street, this feeling of relief suddenly took over me. Everything was going to be ok. With my Amy by my side, I could accomplish anything… I got to the park a little before dark and as soon as I made my way up the small hill our tree was at the bottom of, I caught sight of her. Butterflies instantly invaded my stomach. She was seated right beneath the tree with her back facing me and her head in between her knees. Her posture slightly alarmed me. I however quickly disregarded that factor, tossed a piece of gum in my mouth and started walking towards her… The closer to her I got, the darker the skies seemed to get. Suddenly it hit me that this was the first time we had ever met this late at night; but I carried on anyway… I snuck behind her soundlessly and sat within inches of her ear then whispered: “Did you miss me?”… She quickly jumped on her feet in a scare and stood facing me. I couldn’t help but laugh and said: ”This is why I respect Japanese tourists; it’s for moments like these that I should have my camera on me at all time, that was priceless!!!”… She seemed to miss the punch line to the joke and said: “You are such a dick for that!!!”… As I sat there still in sheer amusement at the then present situation, I couldn’t help but notice her attire. She was wearing a denim mini skirt that unveiled the early development of what would later come to be the most gorgeous thunder thighs known to man… My dick instantly got hard. Or so I thought; until I laid eyes on her top. Her breasts were in the middle of a heated argument with a very fitting tank top under the pretens e that they clearly were now mature enough to roam free… She instantly rushed in my direction, jumped and landed on me… “Hey you” I said, feeling as if she had just landed from heaven. She immediately kissed me . Her face was moist, she had been crying; I quickly remembered that she had just buried her Grandmother the day before , and began debating adding to her pain by telling her about the changes in my situation since the last time we had seen each other.. As I firmly grabbed the back of her head to return her kiss, she bit my bottom lip and sl ightly pulled further than usual. She wa s in a playful mood and I was absolutely loving it… When I bit hers back, she sat up, raised her tiny mini skirt and sat on my by then impressively sizable bulge. “Ou la la; you really did miss me” I said, before gently running my tongue through her cleava ge. She

laughed, nodded her head and said: “Umhm!!” We instantly resumed our very torrid DNA swapping. Five minutes into it, I could feel the moisture on her panties through my jeans and it was awakening a beast within me. She suddenly stopped, sat straight, looked me in the eye and said: “I’m going to suck your cock”… The sound of those words immediately sent me into a flash back of all the nights I had spent in my bed, dreaming of the blessed day those 21 letters would metamorphose into a coherent sentence in her mind, that she would then express in her soothing little voice to my hoping ears. For an instant I thought I heard a choir of angels sing Oh happy day.. She slowly lifted up my t shirt almost to my neck and began to sensually run her tongue on my abdomen. I gently put my hand on her face and closed my eyes.. It had gotten so dark out now that my brain took a little longer than usual to register the almost inexistent difference between my eyes closed or kept open. This was perfect. We would not attract any attention. .. It was finally here. After almost two years of jerking off to this moment, I was finally about to collect the fruits of my some days excruciating ly painful abstinence. I wondered if this is what actors felt like when they get calle d up on stage to accept an Oscar.. She held on to my belt buckle and slightly yanked it down, she then ran her tongue back up my abdomen, ending with a passionate kiss that saw that same tongue at the bottom of my throat, yet again. She then sat up and began to slowly undo my belt .. My first time with Amy had come and was definitely happening. For a second I wondered how I had pictured this moment in my mind. I had always thought that it would have to be something special view the fact that this was her first time. I always thought that it would happen in my room, with candles and all the other million s of classic Hollywood cl ichés necessary for a smooth deflowering ceremony. The longer that image sat in my head, the less comfortable I felt with the entire s ituation that happened to be unfolding then. I had to put a stop to it… “Baby hold on for two seconds”… She now had my zipper almost half way down when I grabbed her by both arms to try and bring her closer to me. She gave me a strangely familiar look of disdain. I made a note to myself to seek professional help for the very destructive habit I was now developing of stopping women in the midst of welcoming me in their mouth..“Is there something wrong?” she asked, seeming baffled by the new turn of events. Before I had a chance to respond to her inquiry however, she reached in my exposed boxers, pulled out my now imposingly erect penis and slowly started stroking it with the expertise of a seasoned rub and tug technician. It completely took me off guard. I looked her in the eye and did not recognise the person I was seeing in front of me ..This sudden lust in her behaviour was synonymous of a deeper rooted issue. Her grandmother had just passed and I

thought to myself that she was using the sex as a temporary fix for the pain… She needed me; but as I put my hand on hers to stop what she was doing, she exploded. “Why the fuck won’t you let me do this!!?!? Don’t you want to fuck me!?! Is that what it is!?! You are still fucking your stupid maids!?!”… My body was suddenly immobile; I had never seen Amy this upset. Not even the day I told her I cheated on her at the beginning of our relationship. She proceeded by getting off of me and sitting a fair distance b y my side, then began crying hysterically. This was a lot more serious than I thought ..I sat up and tried to get closer to her. “Baby what’s wrong? Come here” I said, putting my arms around her; I had not reached her shoulder however, when she sensed my gesture of affection , pushed me back and said: “Don’t fuck ing touch me rob!!!” then continued to cry inconsolably. For one of the few first times I remember in my life, I lost complete control.. “Amy what the fuck is your problem today?”… As soon as those words left my mouth, I would have gladly given my right le g for a chance at wrestl ing a white rhino and take them back upon slaying it with my own bare hands. Not because they then seemed detrimental to the situation at hand, but because of the answer I received to my question… “I had sex with someone Rob. And I feel like shit about it. It’s eating me inside…” By the time my brain finished processing that statement, I had all the symptoms of a stroke patient minus the smell of burnt toast. I felt a hand inside my chest applying an incalculable amount of pressure to every vital organ in my thoracic cage. I couldn’t breathe. This couldn’t possibly be happening. Not now of all times… I searched deep in my mind for what could possibly be the appropriate follow up question in a case like this but the only one that came to mind was: “But why Amy? With who?” She couldn’t stop crying.. I just sat there and looked at her, not having the remote idea of what I was feeling at the time. She finally made an attempt at gathering herself but the harder she tried the more her tears seemed unstoppable. I had no idea of what to do. It seemed as if my mind had lost all ability of conceiving and generating a concise thought. That’s when she finally begun… “His name is Karim”… She went on to tell me the story of when she was on her grandmother’s bedside, lonely and missing me, she had met the next door neighbours’ grandson who was there for the summer. They had quickly become friends and started spending more and more time together. One evening he knocked on her window and asked her to come out; she did, as he happened to have a bottle of Vodka handy.. hesitant at first, she was unwill ing to part take in the drinking, but succumbed to the insisting demands of her late night companion. It wasn’t long before shots of the evil Russian potato liquor were quickly

ingurgitated and both parties were now under the influence of alcohol. What would follow would be a deflowering ceremony in a setting not that much more different than the one we were sitting in right then… I listened to her story without a single word coming out of me, and at the end, I had no idea of what to say, think or do. The only reoccurring thing in my mind was my bed. I just wanted my bed. I wanted to just go under my covers and hide from this cruel, cruel world I was now livi ng in..The more the vision of my boudoir and its safety universe became stronger in my mind, the more the feel ing in my legs began to slowly let its presence be known. I suddenly made the decision to get up. As I was in the process of doing so however, she noticed that I was attempting to leave. She then leaped and held on to my arm… “Roby I’m sorry!!! Please just listen to me!!! I’m so sorry!!! Please just say something!!!”… I stood there and the more I looked at her, the harder that hand in my chest squeezed. This pain was now unbearable; I couldn’t stay here anymore… Without a single word, I yanked my hand out of hers and she nearly fell on to the ground.. I then turned around and began walking away to the sound of her tears, not really knowing where I was going…

THE SMELL OF SILENCE... The few weeks that followed my disastrous encounter with Amy, I would spend them in the only place I could allow my vulnerability to take center stage; under my bed covers. The first couple of days, I spent them trying t o identify where I had possibly went wrong."Why is god punishing me?” I kept asking myself. Whenever I would catch sight of myself in a mirror however, the voice in my head would keep telling me that I was asking myself all the wrong questions .. When the anger stage of my depression kicked in, I started questioning every single choice I had made so far down this journey. The feeling of betrayal would direct all my conscious thoughts towards my mother. This is how she had felt all those nights I had fallen asleep to the sound of her tears. Suddenly, I felt closer to her than ever before… One morning however, I would wake up to the foul stench of reality violating my innocent sense of smell. I had not been out of bed for what was now a period of three weeks, if it was not for the sole purpose of catering to my most basic bodily functions; and the smell in my room reflected my circumstances artistically. I had to make a choice and make a choice now..I had spent the last three weeks of my life victimizing and feeling sorry for myself, while forgetting that the most important people in my life were sharing a portion of this back breaking load with

me, and I had failed to be there for them.. I could either lay here, trying to figure out the most effective method of picking up the tiny pieces of my shattered heart with the tea spoon life was now handing me , or I could leave the pieces on the floor and move on… I tossed my covers to the side and rolled out of bed… As I walked down those long hallways, my parents’ hou se which used to be vibrant and full of life, now seemed emptier than ever. My mother had had to let go of a major portion of the help view the fact that our new financial situation no longer allowed us to keep them in our employment. Some of them however, had refused to resign their post until our departure and settled for a major pay cut. Amongst those few loyal ones was Anthony… Following my father’s departure, I slowly developed a smoking habit that first began with one or two cigarettes on a drinking night. It would later on down the road turn into a very hard to get rid of pack a day regimen… I made my way to the garden and sat down on one of my mother’s gardening benches, lit a cigarette and held that first puff for a while. I then closed my eyes and blew the smoke towards the sky as the hot sun rays kissed my face; I was still alive… “You smell like shit”… Those words and that voice would bring upon my face the first smile it had seen in almost a month. Anthony had taken a seat beside me and lit a cigarette of his own. He had been mowing the park size Lawn all day and smelled like grass fertilizer and body odor… “Right back at ya big guy” I said, as I took another puff of my cigarette. He smiled, gently squeezed my shoulder and said: “Your father is a good man. He just made a few bad decisions but none the less he is a good man. Your mom realizes that”… At first, I had no idea of how to react to those words. Upon hearing them however, I felt unexplained tears rushing my eyes and for the first time i n weeks, breathing became a subconscious effort again. As if these few syllables had just performed high risk surgery and brought my lungs back to l ife… “So what are you gonna do now?” I asked Anthony, in a genuinely concerned tone… “Spend time with my kids for the first little while and then whatever else life throws at me. The question is, how are you handling all this?” He asked, in a parental tone… This man was on the verge of losing a job he had put his heart and soul into for reasons that were not his own, and yet he still cared about how I was handling the situation. He suddenly reminded me of that group of musicians on the Titanic that kept playing despite the obvious imminent death they were destined to shortly face. Anthony was a true friend. I went on to giving him a detailed version of the set of events that had marked the last little over thirty days of my personal life. He listened with no interruptions… 50

“So, let me get this straight?” he begun; “A gorgeous white woman, out of the infinite generosity of her heart, offered to take you in her warm and welcoming mouth, and you politely declined and gave her a back massage instead? This is definitely more serious than I thought. Your mother is going to have to hear about this”… For the first time in what had now been sometime, my body felt the soul soothing properties of a deep euphoric state… I couldn’t stop myself from laughing and it felt magical… “Hey man look” he begun again, “You are 17 years old right now. I have known you since you were 8; so Trust me when I tell you that you will have your fair share of Amys in your life. If they all sideline you for three weeks each whenever things go sour, that’s a huge chunk of your life spent in bed crying over pussy. The right one will come around once you stop looking for her so hard. Take care of yourself first, stay in school, and in no time you will be making that big American dollar. Like Tony Montana said: “first comes the money, then comes the power and then comes the women. Am I right?”… His Scarface analogy slightly amused me but the depth of his wise words would impact my soul on a molecular level. He was right , I was 17 years old and many my age had not been lucky enough ten years prior to be s itting here enjoying the weather. I had to take this as a new beginning. A fresh start in a scary world where I was no longer a prince but a mere subject forced to c Law his own way up the social ladder.. I turned around and gave Anthony a hug. “Take care of yourself man” I said, fighting tears that were now on the verge of invading my face… “You are going to be ok kid; I have a good feeling about you” He replied. He then smiled, put out his cigarette, gave me a nod and walked away for the last time. I sat there and closed my eyes; I had one leg up on destiny, I was going to America, the land of opportunity… Suddenly, the smell of my mother’s roses was in the air. I was going to be ok… After my conversation with Anthony, I decided to take an extensively long shower in the name of the greater good. The la st thing I wanted was to add to my family’s problems by offending their del icate little nostrils. I sat in the tub for three hours as the hot steaming water falling upon my head blessed me with its therapeutic properties.. Amy had called my phone over 150 times and I had not picked up the phone once. The strong feeling of betrayal that I felt then would not allow me to sacrifice my dignity in the process as well. Somehow however, I could not help but feel like a bit of a hypocrite .. It was not that long ago that I had sat underneath that same tree and begged her forgiveness for offenses that very closely resembled the ones she was now imploring my clemency for. But why was it so hard for me to forgive her when she had done the same for me? The self -given

answer to that question would forever impact my relationship with the fair sex in a way I’m yet to establish if positive or right out self -destructive… I had now seen all sides of the spectrum, both my mother’s and my father’s. For the last two years, I had managed to do my possible best at putting this girl’s needs, wants and desires often on top of mine in the name of love. As a result , I was in a place of darkness, confusion and melancholy. For the first time I realized that we lived in a dog eat dog world that my father’s wealth had managed to shelter me from for the last 17 years. This was no longer going to be the case; I now had to dance to the music..That moment, I made a promise to myself. To never end up l ike my mother, because people like my father ran the world. It was now clear in my mind that the fate of the hopelessly romantic was an inevitable death at the hand of the cold and the calculating. I had let my feel ings and emotions take me on a journey through the abysses of heartache. I told myself that from this day on forward, that would be no more. It was now going to be about me only and only me… I shut the water and slowly opened my eyes... For the first time in what now seemed l ike years, I freeheartedly accepted the similarities I shared with my father… The following weeks would bring me closer to my family than ever. My mother had now begun the final stages of the selling process on the little remaining property we still owned, and being in my parents' now empty house had become a heavy alcohol consumption catalyst for both my sister Jocelyne and I. Until one July evening when my mother finally supplied us with some drinking worthy news after all… “It’s done; The papers are at the embassy”… My father had made new friends, who had helped him expedite the immigration process. The saga was over. Our family was going to be whole again. I felt a sense of excitement I had not felt in a while. Our new beginning was finally here…

TO EACH BEGINING ITS OWN END.. Seeking words of comparison between Washington Dulles Airport and Kigal i International would be as audacious as weighing Michael Jackson’s Thriller against Kevin Federline’s Playing with fire on the same platform. I was in America; overnight, the size of my world had just increased a hundred folds.. After two hours of a long and excruciating entry process at the sometimes vicious hand of the United States Homeland security, we began heading towards the exit signs.. It had now been almost two and a half years since I had last seen my father. I had laid in my bed many nights analyzing in great details all plausible scenarios

applicable to this moment; and now that it was here. That is when I suddenly realized that I had grossly underestimated its colossal size… I had not finished looking for the last piece of luggage when I saw my sister Jocelyne bolt towards the glass exit doors. She had seen my father ; She sprung off her feet and in his arms and wrapped her legs around his waist. My mother and sister followed in the same fashion.. A lot had happened since I had last seen him. He had left a child in the caring hands of my mother and she had returned a man in exchange. I asked myself how much he had changed since I had last seen him ; I began wondering what he had went through and how those experiences had affected him. I then asked myself if I was scared; and if so, of what? It w ouldn't be long until I found out… After the almost five minute make out session between my parents, I came to the realization that it would not be long until it was my turn under the knife. I still hadn't stopped asking myself the reason why I was so petrified at the bare thought of the idea. I wondered if maybe I kept looking for this luggage I couldn’t possibly focus on, maybe all this would pass. And that’s when it happened…We made eye contact and exchanged shy smiles. He had aged. He now had a full head of gray hair and by the looks of it , the pandemic had not spared his once majestic beard. He seemed rather tired, as if he was not in the habit of getting that much sleep anymore. I wondered if he was still so fond of his afternoon siestas. We began walking in each other's direction, then for some reason that still escapes me to this day, the closer we got to each other, the faster we walked. As if we both for that fraction of a second, gave into our love for one another and allowed it to take control of our most basic of motor skills. As soon as we embraced in the form of a really heartfelt hug, anyone on the other side of this gigantic airport could hear both our Adam’s apples swelling with emotion while tears rushed our eyes… “I really missed you son,” said my father in a teary voice. I wanted to tell him how much I missed him too, how much his departure had impacted me and how happy I was to finally be holding him in my arms again. But somehow, the words would not come out of my mouth. I suddenly realized that it was just too soon for me to put my heart on the line again. I had recently gone through so much heartache that my body had managed to build an almost infal lible firewall system against any situation that could possibly lead to any form of emotional scar ring..“I am taller than you now old man, you better watch out” I said, with a hint of emotion in my voice. He laughed and held me closer ; that moment nothing seemed to matter. For the first time the feeling I always felt in my mother’s arms , I was now experiencing it in my father’s. The order of the universe had been greatly disturbed. And I knew exactly why…

My father and I finally managed to locate that last piece of luggage, loaded it on the cart and made our way towards the parking lot. All five of us we were finally a family again. Despite what we had gone through, we had managed to rise through it and we had made it here. I began feeling a humongous sense of hope towards the future. Until my father awoke me to my reality with the use of a few words that would crystallize in me forever. “Ok this is the car. Let’s start loading her up”.. He was standing in front of a light blue Mercury Grand Marquis, which red on the side in big shiny black letters: “Barwood Taxi”… I stood there for what seemed l ike an eternity looking back and forth between my father and that vehicle. I knew my father’s financial situation had changed and things were no longer going to be like before, but subconsciously I wanted to believe that my forced ignorance of the present reality had been enough to impact a change. So far it wasn’t going accordingly… The first place I had the privilege of calling home in America, consisted of my father’s 800 sq. ft. one bedroom apartment in a little suburban area of Alexandria Virginia. The location itself was good, but it was quickly becoming evident that he had no longer the means to extend his stay there with four more mouths added to the table on his small earnings as a cab driver.. It wouldn't be long until my mother had to prematurely enter the workforce with an extremely basic knowledge of the local dialect; the lack of self-confidence that came as a result of the latter was aging her at an alarming rate. The first form of employment she landed her hands on was as a clerk at the local 7-11. But the only shifts she could get were midnights due to the lack of traffic. It was an environment more catered towards individuals with language barriers such as hers… The task of adjusting from a 9 bedroom waterfront mansion to the five of us in a one bedroom apartment, at first felt like an insurmountable task. I spent the remainder of my first summer in America lying on the couch, watching the Scarface DVD Anthony had snuck inside my bag the night before our departure over and over. We could no longer afford cable..It wasn’t long before it became highly evident that we had to move. But in order to do this, my mother had no choice but find a second form of employment if we wanted to trick the ends into even believing they were going to meet at the end of the month. What follow ed was both parents working 16 hour days 7 days a week. The emotional toll it was taking on them on some nights would be relayed to us for carry in the form of verbal abuse. It was dark times on all fronts… To add to the matter, my father strongly frowned upon the idea of my sister and I looking for any sort of employment to make some pocket money. According to his judgment, making money would create a lack of focus on the only thing that

mattered on his and my mother’s agenda; School... Suddenly it dawned on me that in the matter of a few months, I had performed a complete 360 degree turn from have to have not..I began going through a very destructive identity crisis; It felt like I no longer knew who I was. I was a prince trapped in the life of a court jester ; and for the sake of me had no idea of how to manage the pain associated with such a l ife transition. It began affecting all other crucial aspects of my l ife negatively; it wasn’t long before I gave into the only friend who cared very little about my new, rather hard to adjust to social ranking ; Jack Daniels..W ith my parents actively fulfilling their new role as the system’s newest s laves, I often left messages on the school answering machine pretending to be my father in order to see myself exonerated from school on any given day I felt like putting my education on hold. I would then turn around and drink myself into a coma to the sound of Joe Rogan instructing men and women alike on how to finish their plate of raw cow intestines.. That was until the first form of hope for a path towards a tiny shred of normalcy came in my life in the form of a flyer on the school bulletin board…

EACH CONQUERED ISLAND REAKS OF BURNING BOATS It was now late October, and I had managed to survive my first month in an American High school. Annandale High school was situated in a small Korean community outside Alexandria Virginia, but regardless of the latter, it evenly reflected all demographics… My newly acquired identity crisis however, made my social life a bit of dental appointment. It’s hard to find similarities within people when you have no idea of who you really are anymore.. But all that would change one day when I was late for a Biology class and while rushing to get to class, a flyer on a bulletin board I had hardly ever even tossed a pity glance at over the last month, stopped me dead in my tracks… The Varsity Basketball tryouts were being held the following week. I stood in front of that board with a smile on my face I necessarily did not know was there. This was my chance to finally make an impact on the social scene. My debutant ball, if it may be seen as so… My mind was made; I had every intention of trying out and making the team. My high hopes were essentially fueled by the fact that I had grown up playing basketball and had a few championship trophies to add fire to the vision. I immediately made the very conscious decision of skipping Biology that morning knowing it to be the future bi product of a scandalous phone call from the teacher to my parents, which would for sure later on lead to a scorned evening, and headed 55

to the Athletic offices instead. The secretary on duty not taking a liking to my French accent, which made her life a bit too difficult due to the complicated deciphering process she had to engage in to in order to comprehend the words that were coming out of my mouth, still managed to find the forms I was looking for and handed them to me with a look of disdain and major disgust at what she believed to now be very lax immigration Laws… As I walked back towards my locker to safe keep the forms , for the first time in a long time, I found enjoyment in my present situation .. I had seen them; leaning against their lockers in their bright white and red leather varsity jackets; surrounded by hordes of females who found joy in emitting loud mating giggles at every absurd statement that flew out of their mouths.. This was my shot at becoming one of them.. A chance at a sl im taste of my past life ..The following morning, I arrived in the school gym at 6:30 Am. I had decided that I would from now on dedicate an hour and a half to sharpening my now a bit dull skills due to a lack of practice in my previously hectic summer.. I did a couple of laps around the gym and I could already feel the effects of my young but slowly growing smoking habit. This was not a good sign. I then decided to dedicate the remaining hour to my shooting and by the grace of God, I still had the art down to a T. My focus would now be to improve my cardio because without it , my chances of making the team were slim to none… I showered and made my way to my first period English class. After an hour or so of day dreaming about making the team to the sound of the emasculated vocal cords of my English teacher, the bell finally rang and I began gathering my books. While in the process of getting up from my chair however, an enchantingly hypnotizing voice rose from behind me in the form of a very erection inducing Spanish accent: “I seen you shoot the ball in the gym this morning, you are really good. You should try out for the team”… Graciela V illacorta was a tight bodied little Brazilian cheerleader. I had managed to do some majorly sinful gazing at her onion shape inspired butt under the radar here and there. It would often come in handy once in the privacy of my own bedroom; but the thought of disrespecting that angelical pair of breasts by making advances seemed like a barrel of foolishness.. “Wow, if I didn’t know any better I would think that you have been stalking me. Don’t you believe in beauty sleep or something?” I asked, smiling and extending my hand to shake hers .. She laughed and took hold of it. “No, I still believe in my beauty sleep; I just like coming in early for the free faculty breakfast. Perks of reading the announcements”… I laughed and introduced myself. “I’m Roby”… “I’m Gracie” she replied, with a flirtatious smile on her face. “I know who you are” I said, trying to

maintain eye contact so she would not look down and notice the massive erection that was now taking form in my jeans… She laughed, quickly yanked her hand out of mine and said: “Who is stalking who now?” … Her smile was of the purest whit e and her naturally tanned dark brown skin inspired fantasies composed of soft pounding and slow licking. It all of a sudden became very clear in my mind that there was absolutely no doubt that one more look at the small biting motion she performed on her lips prior to each and every smile, was going to be the catalyst of a very messy in trousers ejaculation..“Well, what I meant to say by that is just that you are a hard person to not notice that’s all” I responded, seeming a tad bit intimidated by a creati on God had put on this earth to torment my ever so curious peni s.. She grabbed her books off the table, walked closer to me, put her hand on my neck to bring my ear closer to her mouth and whispered: “Keep up the good work, I really dig basketball players”… She then smiled, looked me in the eye and walked passed me towards the door… I laid in my bed that night fantasizing about all the borderline illegal things I would do to Grace if given the opportunity. My decision to join the basketball team was now set in stone. The following morning, I rushed to the athletic office in order to hand in my now filled out try out forms. As soon as the envelope left my hands, the words that came out of the secretary’s mouth left me with slight lower body paralysis.. “Before the forms are filed, I need a $120 payment for your physical. It can either be cash or cheque; we do not accept any other mode s of payment”… I had finally hit a wall, and this time head on. The two dollars my father left on the side of my bed in the m iddle of the night after an excruciating day at work in order to pay for lunch the next day, was now up for debate since he had found out the existence of a free lunch program at school. There was no way he was going to hand me $120 cheque to pay for a blo ody physical… The remainder of the day, I spent it dragging my feet from class to class with the demeanor of a man who had every intention of jumping off a bridge in a not so distant future. My dream which the day before seemed to be so vividly destined to come to life was now nothing more than a mirage which had now gone as quickly as it had appeared. As soon as I stepped foot at home, I went straight to bed and fell asleep to the sound of my own silent tears ..I abruptly awoke three hours later in a sweat with a gigantic smile on my face. I had an idea .. I tossed my blankets to the side, ran for my closet and began to savagely rummage through it until I found what I was looking for.. Deep in my closet laid a rectangular black box with the engravery “Pierre Cardin” gracing its top in shiny gray letters..Inside it was a luxury watch my God father had given me from his expensive personal collection

the day of my first communion. It had to be worth something and I had every intention of finding out how much. Suddenly a sense of hope started emerging in my body and its warm fuzzy feeling graced my senses with its gentle tickles. I had one more shot at the dream; one more shot at Gracie’s sweet Brazilian vagina, which all self-generated evidence seemed to concur tasted like caramel drops… I walked into a Korean pawn shop in Annandale V irginia and presented my expensive time piece to the storekeeper. After hours of incoherent negotiations, she managed to convince me that paying a cent over $85 for the watch, would have been the equivalent of spitting in the face of the God of her ancestors.. I grabbed the box off the counter and decided to walk out with a heavy heart ; but before I reached the doors however, I overheard a short pow wow in Korean between the store keep and an aging man who appeared to be her husband..He had silently stood by during the entire proceedings; observing. He then suddenly raised his voice and in very broken English said: “You want 120? You look like good boy; I give 125 ok? Good?” I stood silent with the door handle in my hand pondering to myself if I should try my luck at a second stream of negotiations in order to walk away with a shred of dignity at the thought of sell ing my God father’s watch for the measly sum I was being offered; but the mental image of Gracie’s naked body insisted on reminding me that I had never been much of a gambler. I took the $125 and walked out of the store… On the first day of try outs, I walked in the gymnasium not really knowing exactly what to expect. As soon as I opened the door however, reality s unk in in the form of a sea of over 350 kids who were all as dedicated as I was if not more, to getting their own varsity jacket. The flyer however, clearly outlined that there was only room for six to be added to the current roaster. The vivid image of my broken heart on top of a mountain pile of another similar three hundred or so, was enough for me to grab my gym bag, turn around and head home .. But when I reached for the gymnasium door handle, it quickly s wung open and I had to put my hand up to avoid a broken nose.. In the doorway stood Gracie; in a cheerleading outfit that was quick to flood my mind with all kinds of scandalous thoughts. “Well, well, well if it isn’t Roby, Mr. Future Kobe Bryant” she said, wh ile shaking her head at me in a playful yet sassy manner.. “Well, well, well if it isn’t Gracie; your friendly Brazilian cheerleader slash part time Kool Aid man. You could have killed me with this door woman. You are supposed to bust through walls; not doors” I replied, while reaching for her hand to pull her out of the door way in order to make room for incoming traffic… She let out a loud laugh and followed my lead in a nearby corner behind a set of bleachers.. “So, what do you think are your chances o f making the team, Mr. I

got funny jokes?” she asked, while gently resting her hand on my abdomen. My initial thought was to inform her of my imminent decision to abdicate on the entire process, but the idea of denying myself a chance at a taste of her suc culent looking breasts without even trying, seemed like an utterly grotesque travesty all of a sudden..“It’s not my first time in the Lion’s cage darling; I should fair just fine” I replied, cracking an almost borderl ine obnoxious smile. She laughed and bi t her lip in the same manner which was now quickly becoming an exquisite treat for my penis. She then gently grabbed my shirt with both hands, pulled me towards her and kissed my cheek. My penis suddenly reached never attained before levels of solidification, which made me strongly reconsider my views on public fornication… “You have very unusually moist lips; they are like little kissable cupcakes. It’s as if sprinkles and crumbs got together, made sweet love and gave birth to those smoochable l ittle cupcake babies on your face” I said, while looking her straight in the eye. She exploded in a genuine laugh and reached in the bag she had on her shoulder for a pen and piece of paper. She then wrote her phone number on the it and reached in my shorts pockets to put it away. As she was pull ing her hand out of my pocket however, she brushed against my massively erect cock, immediately stopped, and firmly grabbed it from the inside of my pockets .. I experienced an immediate shortness of breath and thought I had lost consciousness. “I think he likes me” she said, in a naughty giggle. “I think you might be right” I replied, struggling to remain coherent. “If your game on the court is as big as this guy, I don’t see why he and I should not get acquainted in a very ne ar future." The lust in her voice was palpable. She then smiled, picked up her bag and walked away.. I stood in that same spot immobile for a few seconds, then reached in my pocket for the piece of paper that had her number on it. She had doted the I in Gr acie with a heart instead of a conventional dot .. There was no looking back from here. I had a beyond compelling reason to make this team, even if it was the last thing I got caught dead doing... What followed was a series of suicides and up downs that de stroyed the dreams and aspirations of many hoping souls. I made the immediate decision of quitting smoking if I was to stand a remote chance at making the team .. By the second week of try outs, I was religiously on the track field at 5 a.m. every morning. My high shooting percentage had kept me in the coach’s good books so far, but it was clearly a matter of time until my jump shot w as no longer enough as the savage head trimming carried on… In the meantime my parents’ financial nightmare seemed to get wo rse. My sister Jocelyne had gotten in a tiny accident in physical education class that had made her the recipient of a mild blow to the forehead from a mishit tennis ball.

She had sl ightly fainted then gotten back up right away, but school policy was to call an ambulance and rush her to the hospital regardless. A glass of water and an aspirin later, my father was handed a $5200 invoice because we had no health insurance.. For the first time in my life, I witnessed him collapse to his knees and begin crying wholeheartedly. My entire childhood he had without fail up kept this image of invincibility which had always been well complimented by an almost god like aura. The man in front of me now seemed weak and beaten by life; I couldn’t recognise him. My mother had now found a second job as a personal support worker. Adjusting to her new career as a professional ass cleaner to the elderly had come at the cost of not only her dignity but also severe mood swings due to a lack of sleep..That night, while laying in my bed, the image of my defeated father vividly hunted my mind. The Lion had fallen; and in its den l ied its tormented and confused cub with barely any knowledge of the hunt .. Regardless of its misfortune however, the cub had come to realize that it had no choice but to abide by the most basic rule of the jungle ; adapt in order to survive… At the end of the second week of try outs, I found out early one morning that I had made the top 20. This was the last stage of elimination before the final six were selected; I felt like a god. I had not even had to look at the list posted on the bulletin board in order to find out if I had made it. The latter was surrounded by a sea of curious teenagers and the closer I got , the more clearly I heard the question on every one’s lips. “Who is Robert Mudenge?”..I silently smiled, raised my head and began walking towards my locker. The deed was slowly unfolding .. While in the process of looking for my English book, the sound of steps ru shing towards me caught my attention. I had barely managed to dig my head out of the unhealthy mess that was my locker, when I caught sight of a body propell ing itself in the air and landing in my arms while wrapping its legs around my waist. It was Gracie. “Oh my god you made the top 20!!!” she said, sounding overly ecstatic at the idea of this glorious news. “Really? Did I? It completely escaped my mind to check this morning. Thanks though” I replied, in a sarcastic manner… She laughed and tapped my shoulder. She then put her hand on my chee k, looked me in the eye, and kissed me passionately. After a few seconds of her tongue down my throat, I lost control and slammed her body against a nearby locker while her legs were still wrapped around my waist .. In the midst of sending agents Index and Middle finger on a special search mission for the G -spot in the Brazilian wetlands however, the voice of my Biology teacher rose from behind me in a petrified tone. “Mudenge, What in the world do you think you are doing!!!”… I quickly helped her to the ground, and as I lent her a hand fixing her now tad bit tempered with cheerleading outfit, we locked eyes and exploded laughing. My

biology teacher however, failed to see the humor in the present situation.. “I am sending the both of you to the principal’s o ffice, let’s go!!!” .. The impact of those words on my nervous system was the equivalent of a bullet to the side of my temple. My carelessness had led me in a situation that could very easily require the involvement of my parents. And that could mean a tou gh rest of the week, which would in return affect my basketball. I could not allow that; I had to negotiate with this man..He was standing about fifty meters away from where Gracie and I were standing, so I began to slowly jog towards him while calling his name laughing. “Mr. Pierce!! Mr. Pierce!!” I said, gently resting my hand on his back. “This is a complete misunderstanding. Today is a day of celebration, and we got a little carried away, right Gracie?” I said, quickly turning my head towards her. “Oh, absolutely” she replied, in a testicular pleasing Portuguese accent… Mr. Pierce and I that second both took a moment of silence intended for the mental imaging of our respective grandmothers in the nude ; in order to calm the fury that those words had just unleashed in our trousers.. I then begun again: “Now keep in mind that this does not excuse our behavior. Obviously the school hallways are no grounds for us to let loose of our animalistic instincts. So rest assured it won’t happen again Mr. Pierce. Rig ht Gracie?” I asked, quickly turning towards her again. And in the same manner, she chose to take our testicles for another ride: “Oh, absolutely".. That moment, I realized that Mr. Pierce had not hoped off the first ride. It was clearly evident that he ha d spent the last five minutes fantasizing about bending Gracie over a locker and pushing her delicate little cotton panties to the side. This was a done deal. “You alright, Mr. Pierce?” I asked, waving my hand in front of his face.. He suddenly snapped out of his trance and said: “I am late for class!!!” then quickly walked off.. I stood there as the feeling in my legs slowly came back to me, then began walking in Gracie’s direction..Without a single word spoken, I passionately grabbed her face in both hands and kissed her lips with the fire of a man who had just made his way out of a very delicate situation. She sensually bit my lower lip and that moment I debated tossing her against a locker again. But my conscience advised me that it was not wise to try the patience of the gods in such small intervals. So I gently pulled away, kissed her forehead and said: “I will see you in third period?” She then came closer and attempted to straighten up my shirt, then looked up and with a smile full of lust said: “Oh, absolutely”; then walked away… That afternoon, I walked into the gym ready to put in my all. The coach started us off with a beep test that left my lungs on the verge of collapsing. The top 20 was a tough club to be a member of ; I was having a hard time keeping up. They were all bigger, faster, stronger and fueled by the dream of playing

basketball on a professional level someday. My chances of making the team were lessening with every drill..The following morning, my stomach could not fathom the thought of holding down any sort of food due to the incalculable number of butterflies that had taken refuge in it .. Today was the day the final list of who had made the team would be put up. I began wondering if I had really given it my all. I wanted to prepare myself for the worst in order to avoid a broken heart, but nothing I could tell myself seemed to remediate to the nausea caused by the possibility of my future demise..As soon as I set foot on school grounds, I felt like Jesus the moment he got handed his cross to carry up a mountain. The closer I got to the bulletin board, the more the feel ing in my legs insisted on taking a short vacation. I made my way through a crowd of loud teenagers until I was face to face with the list of the chosen six. I closed my eyes, took a deep breath and began reading the names from the bottom up… Once I got to number one, my vision started getting blurry. I couldn’t see my name anywhere. So I promised myself that prior to losing consciousness I would give the l ist one last scan. I began reading again, this time from the top all the way down. It did not help, my name still refused to magically squeeze in between number four and number six; or any other spot for that matter.. I began slowly making my way out of the crowd, fighting tears that insisted on the fact that the right thing for me to do at that moment was to let them run down my face while I found a place secluded enough to lay in foetal position and rock myself to sleep. By the time I reached my locker, my Adam’s apple had tripled in size. I immediately decided to go back home. That afternoon, I would drink myself into yet another coma to the never fail to soothe voice of Joe Rogan… Waking up from my alcoholically self -induced coma was a struggle within itself. An attempt at opening my eyes informed me that I was now the tenant of a chimp with a drum kit that seemed to be enjoying its stay in my skull. After ingesting an unhealthy number of Advil l iquid gels, I decided to find something to take my mind off the misery. I gave Gracie a call. But after a few rings all I got was the answering machine. “Hey you, give me a shout when you have a second. I had a pretty long day; I think it would do me some good to fall asleep to the sound of a pretty girl’s voice”..Upon opening my eyes the following morning, I reached for my cell phone. No missed calls or text messages from Gracie .. While walking to school, I would come to the realization that this was the first time in weeks I had been there after sunrise. And all that had been in vain. I was back in the same exact spot where I had started. I got in the school building fifteen minutes prior to the start of my first class of the day and decided to go get myself some breakfast in

the cafeteria. The second the doors swung open, I caught sight of Gracie sitting at a table with a group of cheerleaders… I grabbed myself some chocolate milk and began walking in her direction. As soon as she caught sight of me, I smiled at her. But the awkward grin she sent back was a strong indicator of something wrong. “Hey do you care if I steal you for two seconds?” I asked, while taking a sip of my chocolate milk. She excused herself from the table and followed me outside the cafeteria. As soon as the doors closed behind us, I leaned in for a kiss but she held me back, leaving a stunned look on my face. I put my hands up in surrender while trying to fake a smile but she seemed the least amused..“Did you get my message?” I asked, silently hoping to God for a negative answer. “Yes, I did” she replied, in a very cold manner. “Your mommy never told you that it’s not polite to not return other people’s calls? Or are the rules of politeness a l ittle different in Brazil?” My second shot at humor revealed itself to be as ineffective as the one before it. “Ro b we need to talk” she said, with a slightly disdainful look on her face. I took a step closer to her and said: “Alright sister; preach, I’m all ears.” I had not finished my sentence when she abruptly interrupted me. “Rob look, this little thing we have going right now isn’t going to work”… Those words stunned me right where I was standing and I once again realized how ineffective I was at coming up with follow up questions in situations like these. “What do you mean? Did I do something wrong?” The moment those words left my mouth, it dawned on me that I had never sounded so weak and unmanly in my entire life; that is when she went in for the kill. "Look, you are a charming guy and all, but right now you don’t fit the criteria of the man I need in my l ife.” I stood there immobile and lost for words while she begun again: “I told you when we first met, I am looking for a ball player. I’m sorry if I led you on, but it really is what it is”.. She then readjusted the bag she had on her shoulders and walked away… Every single organ in my body in that moment felt as though it had at once gained in excess of fifty pounds. I leaned against a nearby locker trying to gather my thoughts but my mind seemed to be in a complete state of shock. For the first time in my life, I had just been told I was not enough just the way I was. My worst nightmare had now become a palpable reality. I decided to seek refuge in the only place I felt safe in these types of moments; my bed.. I cried myself into a deep sleep and was later awoken by the sounds of my name being summoned in a loud and disgruntled tone. It was my father. He barged in my room as I was attempting to get out of bed. “Why the hell is it that you have not been to class in the last two days Robert?” he screamed, as the door hinges struggled to sustain the impact of

his dramatic entrance.. As soon as those words left his mouth however, he took a single look at me and knew something was not right… He took a few steps towards my bed, and sat beside me. “What’s wrong kid? ” he asked, as he gently grabbed my shoulder. My father and I had sustained a relationship that had an extremely low tolerance policy for touchy feely moments; his reaction to the physical symptoms of my earlier demise caught me completely off guard. “I’m ok Dad, I just had a rough couple of days, but I’m fine. I will go to class tomorrow”..I assumed my answer would be enough to seal the conversation and have us both move on with our lives, but my father decided to carry on: “Son look, I know you and I have had a rough last couple of years. Trust me I know how you feel but I also know you are my son, therefor your sense of pride is through the roof; we get it from Grandpa” he said, waiting on me to laugh; then he begun again: “When I first came in this country all by myself, not knowing when I would get to see my family again, rough days became a norm in my life. And the only thing I wished for was someone who would care enough to just lend me an ear. To just ease the load off my chest .” He then turned towards me, grabbed my hand and held it in between both his and begun again: “So n, out here, all we have is each other. And all we can do is help each other carry the load until we reach the top of the mountain. You need to let me in kid; let me help you carry the load”… I had never seen this side of my father before; all truth be told, I was not even sure what the man sitting beside me had done with my father. Regardless of the latter however, I liked this side of him. I went on to recount the last month or so of my life while he hung on to every single word. After I was done, he got up, walked out of the room and came back a few seconds later with two beer bottles in his hands. He twisted open both caps at once, handed me one and sat right back where he had been beside me… “You really liked this Gracie girl didn’t you?” he asked, after a short moment of silence marked with noisy beer gulps. “Yup” I replied, not really knowing where the conversation was headed. “Son, look, I know even though I’m your father, I’ m in no place to give you relationship advice because I am one of the very few lucky ones who had the chance of stumbl ing on an exceptional woman and it’s really all by the grace of God if she still wants anything to do with me” he begun ..“But I do however have a pretty good understanding of human beings due to years on end in politics. And the secret to always being on top in any sort of situation that involves another human with human emotions, whether it be a girlfriend, a friend, a co-worker, whatever the case might be, is being able to ask yourself, what does this person want from me and how long can I keep them hooked on the fact that I am the only man on God’s green earth that can give it to them?”

The look of confusion on my face was almost impossi ble to mask and my father saw it. “You don’t understand what I mean by that do you?” he asked, with a faint smile on his face. “No Dad, not really, I don’t” I replied in all honesty. He then sprung off the bed and said: “I got something for you!” then quic kly walked out of the room and came rushing back through the door a few seconds later with what looked like a book with an orange hard cover..“Dad, I really don’t feel like reading right now, can I just go back to bed? I promise I will make it to class in the morning” I said, in a loudly abdicating tone that could have very easily landed me on suicide watch. The excitement in my father’s eyes however, was almost palpable, and the least I could do was to let him finish his beer with me. That is when he begun: “Son, this is not just a book. This, this is Robert Greene’s 48 Laws of Power." he then handed me the book in a very ceremonial fashion. He had this strong look of pride in his eyes as he watched me flip through it nonchalantly; as if he had just performed a rite of passage that had been custom in the family for many generations prior… “If you live and die by those few simple rules , the world and everything in it, is all yours for the taking.” he then smiled, raised his beer bottle in a toasting manner, chugged the remainder of it and walked out of the room with a confidence in his step I had not seen in years..I walked in his steps and shut the door locked behind him in the effort of discouraging any further heart to hearts for the rest of the evening. When I sat back on my bed, I accidentality sat on the book my father had just given me. I grabbed it from under me and opened it with every intention of awarding myself a gold star if I managed to make it through a quarter of the first chapter..The next time I raised my head, my eyes were immediately blinded by bright mid-morning sun rays. I looked at my alarm clock and the fact that I should have been in class two hours ago, immediately started a rather harsh internal dialogue. After coming to peace with t he matter however, I decided to get back to my book… Up until that fateful morning, I had lived my life unaware of the fact that I had a chronically addictive personality. Not even a late night nicotine craving had been able to l iberate me from the fascin ating evil that lied in between those two orange covers. For a slight moment, I wondered if the first men to read the bible and I were in the midst of sharing the same journey.. It started off as a tough read; I had been raised on Christian values and devo ting every ounce of attention in my body to a book that preached the use of selective honesty and generosity to disarm your victims, seemed like the wrong thing to do in the moment. But somehow, I couldn’t stop. It was as if I had been living my life in a parallel universe. As if I had been in a deep sleep and finally for the first time in my life, I was awake…

I immediately began analyzing in great details all the moments, all the friendships, all the relationships that had impacted my life and the decis ions that had derived from them. I finally understood it all. What I had done right, the mistakes I had made, but also all the possibilities that could have emerged if I was in the possession of all this priceless knowledge .. I started wondering how long my father had been living his life this way ; calculating every move he made, every word he said, every interaction he held, all in the process of making his way up the food chain. Then all of a sudden, I understood his ordeal, by understanding the mistakes he had made. The same mistakes that had led me to be sitting right then and there in that exact moment… My father’s ascent to power had not been the product of a magical coincidence. Being a moderate Hutu in a country that was now ran by an understandably resentful Tutsi government , and rising to the level of wealth that my father attained was nothing short of a gargantuan accomplishment. Many who shared his race had seen a different fate. Unjust imprisonment and planned under the table executions being some of the favorites on that morbid menu. My father’s survival instinct however, would guide him on the only path that stood a minuscule chance of seeing his l ife spared. He would play the perfect courtier… My father prior to the genocide had tried his h and at a pol itical carrier. Nothing on a considerable scale came out of it view the fact that despite his very passionate speeches to the masses, he still had to keep his day job as a University Law professor. Regardless of the latter however, he possessed a natural talent at his craft. Little he knew, that same natural talent would come in very handy in a moment where the possibility of the livelihood of his own offspring being at jeopardy, became reality… Immediately following the war, my father had mana ged to land himself a comfortable gig as a director of internal affairs in the ministry of finance. It came with all the perks associated with any outrageously over remunerated African civil servant position. The government cars, Chauffeurs, Vacations and business trips that would often turn into family excursions all over Europe at the expense of the Rwandan tax payer, were some of the few things that naturally fit the norm at the time. It wouldn’t be long however, before the fat lady came singing on the party… My father first learned about an ongoing investigation for embezzlement on him, two other directors of internal affairs and the minister of finance himself, in the Saturday morning newspaper; the movie was over, the credits were rolling. If found guilty, he was facing a minimum of fifteen years in prison if lucky; being a

Hutu and arousing this level of suspicion however, was not the right combination of moves to start his lucky dance with. He most likely was looking at twenty years .. A year within the investigation, we were slowly coming to peace with the fact that any day now, we could receive the news of my father’s sudden and unexplained disappearance and have no choice but accept it as our new unquestionable reality, because deep down, we would not necessarily have known where he went but we sure as hell would have known who helped him get there. My father however, had one last card left up his sleeve. His Tutsi wife… My Mother’s side of the family being composed of a respectable amount of intellectuals, saw a large number of its members ascend to great positions of power following the Tutsi seizure of the reigns. One of the many men who could have easily helped my father’s head off the guillotine was my uncle Haguma .. He was my mother’s second cousin, and her initial reflex had been to go beg him to help my father out of the impasse he was in at that moment; but the one issue with that approach was the fact that he had despised my parents’ union since day one for what he referred to as timid raci al etiquette. He was now an extremely successful attorney and had all the connections within the circles of individuals that could see my father exonerated of his suspected sins… It seemed logically hopeless to expect any help from my uncle, until the da y my father found out that he was running for the presidency of the counsel of the order of attorneys. My father approached him with a campaigning agenda that propelled him to the top of the polls overnight. As a show of gratitude to my father, he managed to get his charges dismissed; confirming the element of truth behind Law number 13. When asking for help, appeal to people’s self -interests, never to their mercy or gratitude ..In a matter of a few months, my uncle Haguma went from despising my father’s guts to setting him up with his own practice as a form of a career transition. Two years later, my father would again help my uncle in his re-election process for a second term. In return, he made my father the new treasurer for the counsel. Life was good… My father’s practice quickly grew in popularity and it was not before long that his l ist of clients that ranged from a fleet of banks to a large number of embassies , began attracting the gaze of hungry and envious eyes. Being the master’s right hand however, kept him out of harm’s way. Until the day my father forgot what he really was. A sheep in a wolf ’s costume .. My uncle Haguma was now nearing the end of his second and final term as President of the counsel. A new leader had to get elected; and the name on every one’s lips was my father’s. The issue with this otherwise great news however, was the fact that my uncle, just like the majority of all African men who get the opportunity to assume a position of power, got very

comfortable where he was and felt l ike it was not time for him to leave just yet. Suddenly, his views on democracy got a tad bit fuzzy and he decided that the appropriate measure in this situation was to eliminate the looming threat that was my father… My uncle would use his connections to facilitate the creation of a Grand Jury investigation under the pretense that my father had taken part in the corruption of senior government officials in order to win cases. There was no way out of this one. He had to live the fate of every moderate Hutu that had dared to think that reconciliation automatically meant equalization. That is when he decided to seek asylum in the United States.. My father had committed a considerable mistake with or without knowing, and it had cost him everything. He had brok en Law number 1: “Never outshine the master”… I immediately reached on my night stand for a pen and opened the book to the page that had all 48 Laws outlined in point format. At the bottom of the page I wrote the 49 th Law: “If you decide to live by these rules, accept the fact that you will undoubtedly, die by these rules”.. That is when I finally found the strength of closing the book and began getting ready for my afternoon classes… By the time I walked into the school building that afternoon, my histo ry class which I had not attended in the last three days had just ended. It was clear as crystal that my father would undoubtedly receive a phone call that evening informing him of my now record setting absenteeism and I highly doubted that the conversation following the phone call was going to be as pleasant as the one had the night prior.. It was time to put my newly acquired super powers to work ; I immediately began gathering Intel on my victim in my mind. Lydia Vandervoort had been a history teacher a t Annandale high school for what was a little over two years now. She often spoke of her days as volunteer in an African orphanage following her college graduation. It had often been the subject of many conversations between her and I in which bored to tears I would very often drift off to a world far, far away, caring very little about her stories. Little I knew, the minimal information that I kept in a dark corner of my mind could mean the difference between a docile, or overly action packed evening at th e hand of my father… That moment, I made a mental note to myself: “Learn all you possibly can about the ones around you. You never know when that knowledge could come in handy”… The odds were against me from the get go. Lydia had already extended me several warnings concerning my attendance and I had just shamelessly abused the last strike she had given me out of the generosity of her heart. I suddenly stopped

and debated turning around in order to spare myself the deep feeling of shame that often accompanies a wag of the finger and an “I warned you” look… Until Law number 12 spontaneously appeared within my mind, bringing an uncontrollable smile to my face: “Use selective honesty and generosity to disarm your victims”… Large steeped tea, two honey packets, two mints, a squirt of lemon all double cupped. I had heard her repeat that order hundreds of times on end to the cafeteria ladies on the lunch lines. I walked up to an open class door, and took a peek inside; she was sitting at her table grading paper s. I knocked on the door twice and said: “Lady Vandervoort, top of the evening to ya!” while lifting an imaginary hat with a wide smile on my face… She turned around to see me standing in the doorway with the cup of tea in my hand. Her facial expression wa s quick to indicate that she was in no way amused by my failed attempt at a comedic entrance… “I am calling your father as soon as I am done with these Rob. I told you that would be the consequence if you missed today’s class” she said, as she turned back to her papers mid statement. Those words created quite a great deal of confusion for the emotional generator within my body. On one hand, I was ecstatic at the idea that I still had a chance to rectify the situation , on the other, I had not expected her to be this upset and my chances of winning this one were looking rather mediocre. I immediately began yet another rather asperous self-critiquing internal dialogue, which however, ended with the self-assurance that if I remained calm, I had this one in the bag… “May I sit down for a quick minute?” I very calmly asked, as I immediately began making my way to the desk across from hers prior to her signaling me to do so, as a way of subconsciously assuming a small level of initial control. She nonchalantly indicated her desire for me to grab a seat in the chair I was already headed towards without taking her eyes off her papers. Instead of sitting on the chair as tradition had often dictated however, I sat on the desk itself, put the tea on the chair behind me and looked her straight in the eye. Our heads were on an even level, instead of her towering over me as the case would have been if I had taken a seat in the chair. I had slowly began stripping her authority away… “So what do you have to say for yourself mister? Where were you this afternoon?” she asked, as she fell back in her chair and crossed her arms as a form of protest. Her reaction contrary to popular belief however, was great news for me. Her crossed arms were going to be the perfect body meter; m eaning I would use them to see where she stood at any point in the conversation. Loosening of the grab obviously signifying that she was responsive to the different techniques I was

about to use on her. It was time to go in for the kill. Assume total and c omplete control… I intensified my eye contact then said: “Miss Vandervoort, I am going to call you Lydia for the next ten minutes because I feel like what I need to say needs to be said to the actual woman. Not my teacher”. I awaited an explosive reactio n to what many might have confused for obnoxious insolence in the moment; but somehow it never came. Her pupils started to dilate and she sl ightly lessened the tightness of her crossed arms. That moment I felt like I was watching magic unfold. It was beautiful… “Fine, what is it that you want to say to me?” she replied, with the demeanor of a disappointed girlfriend. “Well Lydia , all truth be told, I hate your class.” I paused and watched the different shades of color in her face very eloquently act out a Crayola commercial, then carried on: “I find history outrageously boring and in all honesty some days, I have more pressing issues on my mind that take me away from the unpleasant experience that is sitting around and reminiscing about dead men’s accomplishments”… I could see that if I did not take this conversation in a different direction, I was doomed to spend months on end in detention… “But do you know why I would never even think about dropping the class Lydia?” I asked, getting closer to the edge of the desk. “Why?” she replied, in a trembling voice. “Because I feel like no teacher understands me or my experiences better than you do Lydia” I said, slightly lowering my voice. She managed to hold back a shy smile with extreme difficulty then said: “What do you mean by that?” “Lydia, you have such a strong understanding of my people and what they have been through, which gives you the ability to communicate with me on a scale that no teacher has really attained before.” She blushed, uncrossed her arms a nd said: “Rob, this is your graduation year and if you don’t get the credit for this class you are not graduating.” My plan was working beyond perfection. Her body language had gone from hostile to semi welcoming and she was suddenly expressing quite a great deal of interest in my well-being.. It was time to seal the coffin…

I reached on the chair behind me for the cup of tea, sat it on the edge of her desk and said: “Large steeped tea, two honey packets, two mints, a squirt of lemon all double cupped. Just how you like it Lydia.” I then slowly slid the cup in her direction still maintaining eye contact. She could no longer hide her blushing and said: “Oh my God, how did you know?” she couldn’t contain her subtle excitement. I debated walking around her desk and checking out what her panties’ views were

on my excitement theory but decided to avoid possible future legal headaches by minding my enthusiasm… “Lydia, look I am pulled in too many directions right now. With graduation coming up, I am faced with having to make a decision. And I want to know that you will be there to help me. Even though our views on history differ” I said, while cracking a chuckle. She smiled, took a sip of her tea and then asked: “Do you have a girlfriend Robert?” That lascivious tone suddenly awoke a deep sleeping beast within me and I started debating unleashing it onto the world; but the voice inside advised me to keep its shackles on. My job was done here. Some days, you just have to retire on top… I laughed, humored her question and decided to put an end to our charming little pow wow. It was the final key to the plan. If I ended it, control remained in my hands.. “This was a slice Lydia, but Volleyball tryouts just started and I have high hopes for a full ride scholarship to a small school outside Mobile Alabama; so I shall bid you farewell gentle lady." She laughed and exclaimed how hilarious I was as I walked towards the door. I could feel her eyes in the back of my neck devouring me whole… I walked in the washroom and immediately splashed some water on my face. I had no idea of what had just happened in there but I sure knew it was not a dream. Every breath, every thought, every reaction that she had had in that room, I had either planned it ahead or created it in her o wn body without her knowing consent, and it had landed me exactly where I wanted to.. As soon as I real ized the truth behind that last statement, I suddenly felt unbelievably alive. As if I had been unaware of a great being living inside of me and had done all I could to suffocate it my entire life. But he was out now; free to roam the streets and prey on the unsuspecting. No one was safe anymore. Everyone in my path from that moment on became a stepping stone to a bigger picture, which I had no idea of wha t it looked like despite my unbelievable resolve to make it a reality…

Laing in my bed that night however, the daunting task of figuring out what my next move was in terms of my education kept the sandman at bay. Like any other 18 year old with overly concerned parents, I was not immune to several conversations that often ended in arguments due to an unacceptable form of indecision on the matter. I had always been told growing up, that my destiny was to get in Law in order to take over my father’s practi ce when the time was right. Now that the latter was no longer a possibility, I now had the excruciating task at

hand of figuring out a plan B to a plan A that had been my only option for the last 18 years… I started an overall overview of who I was and w hat I really wanted. The longer and harder I pondered the matter, the clearer the answer seemed to become. In fact, it was so clear that I realized that it had been in front of me the whole entire time. I had been fighting it due to the fact that I believe d it to be unrealistic; almost offensive to my intelligence to even wish upon a shooting star for it. But for some reason, I no longer felt that way. That night, I concluded that what I wanted, was my old life back…

HAIL MARRY; FULL OF GRACE It was now nearing the end of April, and for me just like a considerable number of other High school seniors, it had been the month manufactured in the darkest corners of hell. The SATs were next month and failure in my case was synonymous to a one way ticket back to Africa according to my parents. Sleep had become the rarest of all commodities which had an extremely negative effect on my health. Nonetheless however, I had never felt so much more alive than I did right then and there… My mind was finally set. I had my eyes on the George Town Political science program and the efforts of bringing my GPA up to par in the past month had now put me right on target for attaining my goal. I was sitting at a very cozy 3.4, which had my mother shopping for proud parent bumper stickers. My plan was to obtain a political science under graduate degree which would be my entry ticket into the LSAT hall of fame and a smooth ride to Law school from there.. Little I knew however, my world was about to be turned upside down; again… I got home late on a Saturday afternoon from my weekly pickup basketball game, to witness a sight that had become as rare as the qual ity time my pillow and I used to share; both my parents home in broad day light. The smell of my mother’s almost done famous lasagna indicated that they had been home for quite some time now. As soon as my father caught sight of me, he immediately summoned my sisters and asked us to sit down; he had something to tell us… I approached the sofa my mother was sitting on, kissed her forehead, sat beside her and put my arm around her shoulder while my sisters joined the party. My father suddenly started a series of small talks, that had all parties involved

wondering how long he had been drinking half an hour into what was now seemingly looking more and more like a forced family moment. But suddenly, I took a closer look at him; He seemed nervous. He was very gently tapping his foot at a steady pace and kept wiping his palms on his pants. The last time I had seen him like this, we had shared a $5000 bottle of the rarest Cognac. This was not a good sign… He was in the middle of recounting a story involving his Ethiopian pal and co-worker Mahmoud to my very uninterested sisters, when I interrupted him mid-sentence.. “Dad! What’s going on?” I said, in a sharp rather threatening tone. He suddenly froze and slowly turned towards me. After a few silent seconds, he turned towards my mother who without saying a single word, gave him some sort of nod of approval; and that is when he looked b ack at me and begun: “We are moving to Canada guys”… At the initial sound of those words from my father, I thought to myself how horrible the current timing was to take a vacation with all I had going on with school at that moment. Reality however, would burst my denial inflated bubble by reminding me that we were no longer the vacation taking type of family. This was another definite relocation. My stomach suddenly got very weak and I felt the urge to vomit… My parents had come to the morbid realization that if there current situation persisted to remain as it was, they were surely without a shred of a doubt, working themselves into an early grave. One of the major concerns on their mind was our lack of health insurance. My father’s family inherited dia betes had fed on the stress he had been under for the last couple of years and had matured into a life threat to be reckoned with. Adding my mother’s sometimes crippling pains due to early stages of arthritis to the equation, had been the recipe for long Saturday afternoons waiting in line to see a doctor at the free clinic… Now, my parents' solution was to take advantage of the much more generous social system that our great big neighbour of the north was offering to anyone willing to brave its merciless winters. In a matter of seconds and yet again out of nowhere, another curtain of incertitude had enveloped the l ife I had just finally found the strength to steer in a direction I believed to be of my choosing… I abruptly got off the couch I was sittin g on with my mother and rushed in my room on the hunt for a cigarette that might have survived my failed dreams of becoming a basketball player on a high school varsity level, which had managed to see me smoke free for a little over seven months now. I sat on a nearby stoop and lit a menthol cigarette hoping the smoke I exhaled would cleanse me of all the 73

negative thoughts of defeat I had floating in my head.. The following morning, we would leave 80% of everything we owned behind, and hop on a Greyhound de stined for a small border town outside Buffalo N.Y, called Fort Eri e… My father had kept two sets of passports for every single one of us and for immigration purposes, we had stated that we had just come from Africa directly and had never lived in the United States before. Upon being allowed to cross the border, we were put in an immigrant shelter that housed three other families including mine. Just when I thought our living arrangements could not get any worse than the first ones we had had upon arriving in the U.S, l ife contradicted me by having the entire five of us staying in the same one bedroom for what was a little over a month… Matthew House was a government financed shelter that was ran by an elderly couple that went by the names of Jim and Shirley McNair. The building itself was a mid-size, regular four bedroom house, that was housing three families of on average three to five people each. It gave me the impression of a fancier version of the refugee camps we had been in during the war. It had b een two and a half weeks now since our arrival in Canada and the curtain of incertitude seemed to get thicker and thicker; until the faithful day the Aristide family walked through the doors of the shelter… It was a scorching June afternoon and I had bee n in the backyard for the last two hours doing the same exact thing I did for weeks on end to pass time; practice my jump shot. I hit the ball off the rim and it went flying in the yard. Before I had had a chance to pick it back up however, a small boy who looked no older than 4 at the time, ran it back to me. When he got close, I crouched down and he handed me the ball. I showed my gratitude by rubbing his head and he gave me a smile. As I was in the process of getting up, Shirley came around the corner ac companied by a man and a woman who seemed to be on a grand tour of the premises… As soon as they caught sight of me, they began walking in my direction. I felt rather awkward because I had no shirt on. The Aristides had just arrived from Orlando due to reasons that led me to believe had a lot in common with my family’s. The husband John introduced himself to me first. He was about 6ft4, well-built man who was originally of Haitian descent with a strong accent that added credibility to the latter. His wife D al ia was of Dominican origin, she was of average height and had a body that made all mothers of 3 year old children unchristianly jealous… She extended her hand to shake mine and I had a rather nervous reaction and proceeded to quickly wipe the sweat off my palm before reciprocating. “I’m 74

Robert” I said, with strong eye contact and a smile, hoping her husband had not grown suspicious of my overly accommodating behaviour. The thought of a man that size coming after me left my rectum twitching for mercy… “I am Dalia” she replied, with the pearliest of all white smiles. Her eyes hypnotized me; I had never seen a black woman with green eyes before despite her really light skin. I wanted her; I had to have her… “And who is this little guy?” I said, crouching back on the ground to be at even level with the boy all signs now indicated was their offspring. “This is Danny; Say Hi Danny” she said, as she lovingly rubbed his head. The little boy let out a shy hello and ran behind his mother’s lusciously long legs. “O h c’mon you are not suddenly shy are you?” said John, picking him up from behind his mother. “I don’t blame him, if my parents were in the habit of keeping sweaty, shirtless company, I wouldn’t be at ease either.” Dalia exploded in a laugh that gave way to a very discreet body scan; and judging by the way her pupils suddenly dilated, she liked what she saw… “The Aristides will be staying in the room across from your family’s.” said Shirley.. I thought to myself that this had to be a sign. “I better be on my best behaviour then, don’t I?” I replied, looking at John with a smile. He laughed and said: “How is that jump shot coming along?” His demeanor clearly indicated that he was in the habit of being the Alpha male in the majority of situations and didn’t seem too pleased with the new arrangements. He was clearly and loudly challenging me. This suddenly started a rather comedic internal dialogue : "My jump shot is the least of your worries pal; I’m coming after your wife”… “Well John if you have any American dollars still lying around, I would be more than happy to dispose of them for you by showing you instead of telling you” I said, with a smile that just seemed too appeasing to be genuine. Dalia exploded in another chuckle and said: “Do you smell that Shi rley? That’s the smell of excess of testosterone. That’s usually my cue to go.” Shirley laughed and said: “Well, whenever you boys decide to settle score, make sure you let me know so I can have my camera ready. A little healthy competition could definitely spice up the shelter’s website.” John suddenly took a look at me and said: “Why don’t we end this right now?” as he was putting his son’s little duffle bag on the ground.. Dalia however, did not seem like she was very fond of the idea at the moment; she suddenly turned around and gave her husband a deathly stare. “John, I am not unpacking by myself. You boys can play your little game tomorrow. We got work to do tonight”…

I slowly turned towards John expecting him to object to the only option he was given in true Alpha male fashion. But to my surprise, the objection never came. That set of events immediately sculpted a boner in my pants worthy of any over l it corner of the Louvre. She wore the pants in the relationship. John’s attitude was a desperate cry for help from a dismembered macho… This could mean very good news if my predictions were correct. I had to make sure; and I knew exactly how. I suddenly turned to John and said: “50 on the game?” while dribbling the ball in between my legs at a fast pac e. As if God had heard my prayers perfectly the minute before, Dalia suddenly broke out before John had even had the chance of thinking of a clever enough way of responding to my challenge and said: “There will absolutely be no betting going on”… This was my cue to go in for the kill. I turned to Dalia and made sure that her eyes were locked within mine and said: “I apologize, I got a little carried away. I had forgotten what it was like to have a worthy adversary in front of me; I should however have known better”. She smiled and said the exact words I wanted to hear at that moment. “Oh no, don’t worry about it. Its ok”… “11 A.M tomorrow morning. I am game if you are game” said John , while picking up his son’s duffle bag off the ground. “Let’s rather sh oot for 3 P.M. I haven’t seen 11 a.m. in what seems like months now, wouldn’t want to disappoint by not showing up” I replied, in a joking manner. “Cool, let’s do it”… He then began walking away and was shortly followed by everyone else. Before they had tu rned the corner however, Dalia managed to throw one last discreet look back at my bare chested self and smiled… This was no longer a fair fight. I had just managed to subconsciously have her associate me with a moment of defiance towards her husband. The cherry on the cake however, was the fact that she had just clearly told me it was O.K and not to worry about it. Therefor the blame was on John for even pondering the idea. Now every time she would see me, her subconscious mind would naturally associate m e with that moment and those feel ings of rebellion and freedom she had felt standing in front of me. It was now just a matter of timing and precision… I quickly scanned the backyard for a shaded spot and settled for lying under a nearby oak tree. I lit a cigarette and closed my eyes; as I exhaled the smoke, the mental image of Dal ia’s banana shaped breasts slightly increased my blood flow .. I suddenly thought of her little boy; she was a mother. A mother with a body that could easily have turned the most pious of all men into a savage sex offender, but nonetheless still a mother. Had I become that guy? That guy, that preys on mothers? 76

I suddenly realized that I was sitting here poisoning my mind with all the wrong questions, when the answer to the real question at hand had been in front of me this whole entire time. Had I always been that guy, and never really known? I began looking back at my history; the facts were eye opening. Despite all my best intentions, I had fallen in love with every single wom an I had ever met, either be for three minutes or three years. It was an almost soul consuming need, which I just had to feed… In a past life, feeding the Dragon within me had been an easy task; it was majorly funded by the power my father’s lost fortune s allocated me over women that were in my immediate surroundings. Like any overfed beast in captivity however, no matter the quality of the meat, there would always be a missing ingredient that could only be obtained as a result of freedom; the thrill of the hunt… I wasn’t stupid; I real ized that the road I was on the path of embarking onto, was an extremely sl ippery slope; a lot of people could potentially get hurt .. I had been able to control my urges in the past during situations I believed it was necessary to do so. So why was it that I was so keen on making love to a married woman? I could no longer run from the truth; it was the challenge behind it. My new found knowledge had been the hammer that smashed the shackles holding a beast that was now impossible to put back in captivity… I had to live with it, share a body with it, accommodate it, and most importantly, feed it .. I was no longer the same individual; Robert Mudenge did not sleep with married women. The answer was beyond evident, I had a set of Laws to follow and they held all the answers on how to safely feed the beast, but first things first, finalizing the new accommodations would require the application of the 25 th Law of my new code..I had to re-create myself; give this new existing being within me a name, because it was as real as the mind which it now called home. For an instant I wondered what kind of individual it was. It had shown itself to be charming but yet cunning, calculating but extremely affectionate, driven but yet distracted and finally confident but often insecure .. The latter shone a light on the fact that all this some days felt like an act; like something out of a movie ; like something out of Hollywood..I suddenly paused as if I had just had a divine intervention; I was Hollywood. I could no longer run from it; I was Roby Hollywood; I was now the captain of my own fat e; I was now the commander of my own soul… I opened my eyes and stared in the setting sun ; every inch of fiber in my body felt different , I felt a surge of power within me I had never felt before that came with a voice in my head that kept telling me that from this day on forward, I could accomplish anything I set my mind to…

The following morning, I was awoken by my father instructing me to get out of bed because we were house browsing today. We had been in the shelter for almost three weeks now and the Canadian government had found us eligible to obtain some form of a corner we could call home. In its infinite generosity, the social system had even indicated that it could all be put on its tab. We were now on welfare..The social worker picked us up from the shelter in a rather aging Pontiac van and took us first on a tour of the town. Fort Erie is a small town of about 3000 people; being a slowly developing bo rder town, it had had an essentially Caucasian demographic. The latter however would slowly come to an end with the adoption of a more lax immigration agenda on behalf of the Canadian federal government. I would very soon learn however, that despite the promising integration progress, acceptance had on the other hand been a long and slow process… We pulled into the gravel driveway of a bungalow that looked like the last time it had really been remotely cared for was when it was a major safe house for the underground rail road. The outside paint indicated that the original homeowner had intended it to be of a semi dark blue, but years of decay had judged it appropriate to have it spot a rather swamp green color. Walking towards the house, my attention was caught by a satellite dish that was so horrendously installed, that it blew my mind how it had not yet brought down the roof. I suddenly paused and wondered if we should contact animal control for a quick sweep of the inside prior to going in… The gentleman who had listed the property had indicated that it was 900 sq. ft. with three bedrooms, one bathroom and no basement. The first initial f Law in that statement however, was the utility room he was so keen on convincing my parents was a third bedroom. The Canary yellow wall had a brown rectangular stain on it that clearly indicated that it had been home to the back of a washing machine, which had now been moved to an awkward spot in the kitchen, in the owner’s dishonest efforts to make way for a third bedro om and maximize his profits… I suddenly felt a knot in my stomach and my vision became slightly blurr ed. I leaned against a nearby wall and looked around me. My parents were in the middle of an animated conversation with the landlord about the possibilit ies of painting the bathroom anything other than the vomit yellow color that made the room look like the showers inside a heavy duty slaughterhouse; while my sisters were fighting over who will get which side of a closet with a hanger that listed the task of handling the weight of two winter jackets under the physical improbability column. They had all somehow accepted their fat e..They had learned to move on;

they had freed themselves of the weight of a life past by accepting the new turn of events as an inevitable reality that they just had to l ive through and make the best of. But not me; I closed my eyes and visual ised myself walking through the long hallways of the waterfront mansion that we used to call ours. I envisioned the countless afternoons I had spent on the side of the pool soaking in the African sun. I wanted it all back; I had to have it all back. Roby Hollywood had a thirst for the finer things in life that just had to be quenched at any cost necessary… My father signaled me to get back to the car and I quickly snapped out of my state of trans to a universe which all reason insisted was light years in the past . I threw a quick glance at my wrist watch to know what time it was in the real world. I had made a prior engagement the day before tha t I had every single intention to honor. It was 2:15 in the afternoon; I suddenly wondered what Dalia was up to. Maybe she was doing laundry, or laying down for a summer afternoon nap and the heat had sent her hormones into shock to the point of making swe et love to herself… I awoke from my very inappropriate day dream when we pulled into the shelter’s driveway. As soon as I stepped out of the car, my ear drums were greeted by the sweet sound of a basketball bouncing off a rim. John had been practicing for our little dual. As he should have; the stakes at hand were hig h.. I walked into the house behind my father and as soon as he reached the kitchen 60 meters ahead of me he let out a: “Hello, there?” followed by a smile and a questionably overzealous handshake. I walked in behind him, and there she was; wearing a flowery purple dress that exposed her shoulders while sensually flowing down her body to stop just on the edge of her over moisturized knees. The July sun had cooked a glow in her skin that suddenly made me want to hold her naked against the fridge she was facing. I wondered if my father shared my point of view in the moment… “Hi! I’m Dalia” she said with the biggest smile , while almost rushing to shake my father’s hand. “I’m Albert, and this is my son; Robert” my father replied, seeming to be having a hard time letting go of her hand. “Let me guess, Grandpa’s name is Norbert? Because that would be a theme I can stand behind. Classy, yet edgy, common, yet sophisticated. Can’t go wrong with it reall y; especially when it comes down to a father and son” she said, in a comically sarcastic tone. I couldn’t help it; I imploded laughing. “What can I say? Creativity runs deep” I replied, trying to control the army of butterflies that now called my stomach h ome. My father turned around to look at me and I could instantly see he had a clear idea of my deepest intentions. He social ized for a few more minutes and decided to take leave. I stayed behind with Dalia…

She had been feeding her son lunch and was in t he midst of negotiating with him over the possibility of putting him down for a nap which he seemed to be absolutely keen on not doing. I immediately saw an opportunity. “Care if I try?” I said, pointing at her son with a smile. She looked at me almost baf fled at the thought of such an unusual request then said: “be my guest, at this point I really will try anything”. I suddenly wondered if she held th ose same views on anal sex. I proceeded to make my way closer to the high chair her son was sitting in and crouched down to be at even level with him… I then pulled my cellphone out of my pocket and said: “Hey big guy, wanna see something cool?” The little boy then looked at me and nodded in confirmation. I then walked him through a puzzle game I had on my phone and with every second that went by I could see his excitement growing stronger and stronger. I then made sure it had reached its peak and suddenly turned off the game and said: “I have to go lay down for my nap now, we will play when I get up ok?” He g ave me an astonished look and said: “You don’t take naps, you are a grown up.” Those words were music to my ears. It was the kill point I had been working my way up to… “That’s how I became a grown up, the more naps you take, the faster you grow. You want to become a grown up too right?” I said, looking up at Dalia with a smile. She was now standing on the side dil igently observing the entire process. The little boy nodded in affirmation with his eyes dead locked on my cell phone. “Good, because I really enjoy playing with grownups” I said, while looking at Dalia who emitted a discreet chuckle. She had caught my drift; she understood my sense of humor. That moment, I adored her. “So tell you what, why don’t you be a good boy and l isten to your mommy, and when you wake up you can help me out with the puzzles huh?” I said, while nodding my head at the l ittle boy. He then smiled and said: “Ok, but are we going to play after?” I looked at him and reassured him that he had the entirety of my evening if he agreed to go down for a nap. That is when he turned towards his mother and elevated his arms as a way of instructing her to lift him out of the high chair… Dalia mesmerized by the latter couldn’t stop throwing back and forth looks between myself and her son as if she had just witnessed a divine miracle. She then lifted him up and walked around the kitchen table in my direction. “How are you so good with kids?” she said, looking at me as if I had just invented fire in front of her own bare eyes.. I locked mine in her beautiful green ones and said: “I love kids; I can’t wait to have a few of my own one day.” I replied, while gently squeezing her son’s cheek. After she finished getting over the seismic effect those words had on her knees, She came closer and said: “You are going to make a great daddy one

day.” she then very gently kissed my cheek and said: “Thank you, I owe you one " as she walked on up the stairs… The wheels of my plan were now in motion. I had just managed to appeal to her most basic of evolutionary traits; her mother’s instinct. Subconsciously as a mother, her entire l ife revolved around the well-being of her offspring and in order to create attraction that was the first key element on top of the list. Her priorities were different from my usual targets’; she was now attracted to providers and I had just provided comfort to her offspring; and that meant the world to her.. Now that this was taken care of, I now had to move on to the second phase of my plan. I raised an ear towards the backyard, try ing to hear if John was still practicing and as a matter of fact he was. I felt a smirk forming on my face as I walked upstairs to get dressed for our little duel of the manhoods… I arrived at our little rendezvous about 15 minutes late, to find John sti ll practicing his jump shot in the backyard. He was wearing long basketball shorts and a tank top. His size slightly threw me off and I began asking myself if I had not maybe bitten off way more than I was able to chew. “You are late” He said, giving the ball two solid bounces in an unnecessary show of strength. I debated telling him the real reason behind my tardiness but judged it too bold of a move on a man that size. “My time management skills do need improvement. It however is a working progress” I said, with a bit of an obnoxious smile on my face as I stepped on the court… “American 21, the three point line will be the clearance point” said John, as he was getting ready to check the ball. “As you wish my good sir” I replied, wondering if he could smell the fear his monster biceps inspired within me. He checked the ball, I passed it back to him and five minutes within the game, the score was a mind boggling 8-2. He was bigger, faster and bulldozed his way through the paint in a manner that made my mere 150 pounds gain a whole entire new level of insignificance… He passed me the ball after I had scored my third point; but before I had finished thinking over my offensive strategy, a voice rose from behind me and said: “Are you boys playing nice?” It was Dal ia. She had changed into a tiny little pink tank top and a pair of yoga pants that complimented her onion shaped butt in a way that instantly brought a heavy stream of tears to my eyes. “It’s a bit of a massacre” said John, winking at his wife in a tone that might have easily been interpreted as arrogant. “Alright , go babe” said Dalia, in a cheerleading tone. For motivational purposes, I decided to play as if she was cheering for me instead. The effects of that trick on my mind were miraculous. W ithin minutes of 81

her arrival, the game was now at an even 18 points. I had quickly realized that if I had a remote shot at winning this game, it was only going to be due to my already slightly impressive mid-range shot. But that was not my only secret to victor y… I had purposely declined John’s invitation to hold our game for 11 a.m. and opted for 3 p.m. instead, not because I was very particular about my beauty sleep, but because I had found out shortly after my arrival in Fort Erie that the sun reached its highest peak on our location at that time. I knew with John coming from Orlando and being accustomed to the dry Florida heat, he would have a hard time getting used to the new more humid climate; and playing basketball in it would definitely have some effects on his oxygen intake levels, and that was my only advantage because I had two entire weeks of conditioning prior to his arrival.. He was working hard to mask the wheezing sound his body emitted with every breath he took. Nature was just following its co urse; I had to go in for the kill. That thought was quickly interrupted by the sound of the ball going through the net as John had just scored his 19 th point. He was now a basket away from victory… He checked the ball and I passed it back to him and he i mmediately rushed for the basket, running me over during the process. I fell on my back but slowed down the impact using my palms to absorb some of the shock. As I was rushing to get back up, I heard Dalia’s voice erupt in an outraged tone: “Foul!!! Not fa ir!!! That’s how you hurt your knee last time and couldn’t play for three months.” John immediately stopped in his tracks and held a body language that clearly indicated how preposterous he believed his wife’s call to be. That moment , I suddenly had an idea… “Alright, you can have the ball” said John , in a rather exasperated tone as he was extending his hand to help me off the ground. I reached for it with my left hand and as soon as he took hold of it, I let out a scream and firmly grabbed my wrist. “Fuck, I think I might have landed on it awkwardly.” I acted out a cautionary dislocation check with facial expressions that could have very easily earned me a Golden Globe in the moment. He then extended his hand to me again and this time I grabbed it with my right one, and he helped me up… As I got back on my feet, Dalia came rushing down the court for a quick overview of the situation. “Oh my God, are you ok?” sh e asked, while throwing a quick disdainful look back at her husband for not minding his size. She then delicately reached for my left wrist I was now holding in my right hand and I quickly yanked it away while emitting a sound that indicated a non -existent high level of pain. “Jesus! I’m so sorry” she shrieked, as she jumped back and held her

face in her hands. I let out a tiny laugh and said: “Oh, no don’t worry about it, I’m ok I promise. C’mon John let’s finish the game”… My last words left a rather shocked facial expression on both their faces. “Are you sure?” said John, trying hard to disguise a smirk that clearly indicated the fact that he now saw the light of a new day within my make -believe handicap. “You should just go put some ice on that?” said Dalia , in a tone radiating with the erection provoking tenderness only a mother could express. “A man is one who finishes what he has started, no matter the circumstances. Right John?” I said, without breaking eye contact with his wife and giving her a reassuring smile..She returned a rather shy one and quickly broke eye contact to turn towards her husband then said: “Wow, boys really will be boys I guess ,” as she walked back to the sidel ine. I positioned myself in front of John to receive the ball and as he passed it I could see that the effects of the heat were slowly taking their toll. I decided to take the slow route on the offensive by dribbling around him and have him chase me for the ball, which tire d him up even more… I then took a quick step back and took a mid-range shot that now saw the game on equal grounds at 19 points each. As soon as th e ball went through the net, I turned around to look at Dalia, who then threw a quick look at her husband and once she made sure that he was busy trying to catch the rebounding ball, gave me a very suggestive congratulatory smile which left my knees a tad bit weak. She knew what she was doing was wrong and it seemed to excite her. The thought in my mind that moment was: “Dalia is a bad little girl, and I was going to punish her for it when the time was right”… We were now playing for game point and John h ad first possession of the ball following my equalizer. This was the moment of truth; but somehow I was not scared and I wondered why. I would later in life find out the reasoning behind my high level of confidence in that moment. Immediately following my pass to him, he instantly took the shot with the intention of catching me by surprise but missed and hit the rim. We both quickly rushed for the rebound but I beat him to it. To express his frustration, he let out a loud: “Fuck!” He was rattled, meaning he was emotional and could no longer think straight. I had to end this… I brought the ball back passed the point of clearance and began strategizing on where I was headed. My little act had left me with only one operative hand and if I didn’t want to look like a complete charlatan, I had to play the part accordingly. This meant that my only option was to go for a layup against a man whose knee caps were almost the size of my upper body. I took a step forward and as I did, he came closer to me while spreadin g his arms to prevent me access. I

made a move as if I was going in through the left and then quickly brought the ball back to crossover to the right ..The effects of this move were staggering. John realizing what my intentions were, quickly tried to get ba ck in the position in front of me but fell during the process. I immediately rushed for the rim and scored the final winning point to the sound of Dalia’s laugh at her husband’s misfortune soothing my eardrums. I proceeded to extend a hand to John in order to help him up but he declined my offer and helped himself up instead then said: “Rematch tomorrow, same time” then walked passed his wife towards the house… Realizing his frustration, she turned around to follow in his steps but not before giving me yet another suggestive smile and saying: “Put some ice on that wrist, seriously..” I watched her walk away as her tight yoga pants were having a hard time containing the aftershocks of the earthquake that was going on inside of them. She was ready; everything had worked exactly how I planned it. It was now only a matter of timing… My idea of pretending to be hurt had come upon hearing her say that John had had to give up basketball for three months following a knee injury. My task was to prove that size does not make a man but heart does. Even though she was clearly cheering for her husband initially, upon my inexistent injury, she subconsciously changed camps because as humans we are naturally pre -dispositioned to root for the underdog. And this underdog had just managed to surmount a barrier that had sidelined her beau for three months. In her mind I was now not only a symbol of rebellion against her husband, but I also inspired hope, courage and determination… I would be awoken earlier than usual the following morning by the smell of pancakes. I opened my eyes and turned to my side to notice both my parents still in bed on the other side of the room. So if it was not my mother, then who was making sweet love to my nostrils? I quickly evaluated my options and my eyes lit up in the process. I hoped out of bed, brushed my teeth, put some clothes on and headed downstairs… I turned the corner to the kitchen and my eyes were greeted by the sight of Dalia in a purple form fitting track suit that just looked lik e it had been painted on her body. Her big brown curly hair was done up in a pony tail that exposed the back of her l ight skin neck. I suddenly felt the urge of sneaking behind her and holding her in my arms while I nibbled on her earlobe .. As if she had felt the weight of my lustful gaze, she suddenly turned around to see me standing in the door way…

She smiled, turned down the temperature on the stove and said: “Sit down, are you hungry? I made everyone pancakes,” sounding as if she was freshly out of a three some with Rachel Ray and Martha Stewart. “So you don’t believe in beauty sleep either or is cooking breakfast at wee hours of the morning some sort of twisted dark need that just demands satisfaction?” She laughed, poured some orange juice in a glass and said: “No I do not get turned on by pancake mix; Danny had an early doctor’s appointment and John took him, so I thought I would make myself useful”.. The world had stopped turning the moment she had mentioned that her husband had taken her son to the doctor’s. My belief is that life is defined as a series of moments, and inside every single one of those moments is wrapped an opportunity to accomplish anything we set ourselves to. This was my moment to fulfill my self-written prophecy… I took a seat at the table and said: “The pancakes smell lovely, but unfortunately my morals do not allow me to indulge in them as we speak.” She gave me a look that indicated that she was not used to such a level of intrigue that early in the morning. “Is that right ? And why exactly would that be?” she said, while taking a seat beside me. I locked her eyes in mine and said: “Well, it’s a known fact that the easiest way to a man’s heart is through his stomach, and I do not believe your marital status allows you to go around hooking hearts with the use of chocolate chips as bate”… She bit her lip in a naughty smile, pulled her chair closer to mine and said: “And what else exactly do you feel like your morals forbid you to do to me, due to my marital status?” while indicatively looking at my lips. I then ran my fingers on her face and placed a string of her curly hair behind her ear. She took a loud scattered breath and raised her chest in my direction. I went in for the kiss and immediately felt a heat wave going from her entire body to mine. A few seconds into our little high school make out session, I pulled her closer and she sat on my lap. I sl ightly pulled her hair back and started kissing her neck. She reached behind her to grab a handful of my package while I sen t five explorers down her silky track pants. To my surprise, she wasn’t wearing any underwear… I ran my fingers on the edge of her vaginal lips and she responded in an appreciative moan. This was the catalyst to a major flood in her pants; which led us both to the conclusion that we needed somewhere with a bit more privacy to express our animosity other than the shelter’s kitchen. I tapped her butt as a sign to get up and follow me. We both giggled l ike two little mischievous children as she followed me towards the half bathroom on the main floor..I entered first and she followed in my steps. As soon as she closed the door, I pinned her against the wall from the back passionately and it caught her off -guard. Despite her obvious needs

and the different seduction methods I had used on her, that moment I had forgotten that I was still somewhat a stranger dealing with a married woman. She needed my reassurance.. I held her hand in mine and gently squeezed it as I kissed the back of her neck. She showed her appreciation for my infinite softness in a moment of nervousness by suddenly relaxing her body and reaching behind her to grab a handful of my hair… I put my hand on her belly and began to slowly run it down until I had reached her shaven mound. I then let it sit there immobile for a few seconds as I felt her body shake with anticipation. I then l icked my middle finger and started to gently run circles around her swollen clit. She dug her nails in my arm as she grabbed my free hand and used it to firmly cup her breasts as I increased the speed of her clit massage. I then pulled down her track pants a nd reached in mine to dig out my now rock hard penis. That is when I slowly penetrated her wet heat from behind and she slammed her hand against the wall in front of her.. I spread her legs a little more by pulling up her butt , then began pumping inside of her; gently at first but then increased the speed as I kept rubbing on her clit. After a few minutes of this sensual love making, the spasms her body was having indicated a nearing orgasm wave. I started pounding her even harder until she let out a: “Yes!!!” followed by many more like it. And then, when she looked as if she could no longer stand on her feet, I exploded inside of her and collapsed on her back .. The beast was now fed; but how long was it going to be before it sent me on the hunt again?

“The king has died; Long live the king”… A week following our blunt disregard of several key clauses in Dalia’s prenuptial agreement, my family was moved out of the shelter and into a home the Canadian government insisted met all human rights standards to my great skepticism. That night, I laid in a single bed that had been in no way, shape , or form manufactured to accommodate someone my size. But beggars can’t be choosers; we had no choice but accept the little we were given with a grateful smile… In my mind, I just could not fathom the fact that this was now my new room, my new home, my new life. I had to get out of there; that wasn’t me. I wanted it all; the cars, the clothes, the women, the apartments with insane views, the trips, and everything else that came within the fast life package. For the first time in a

very long time however, my goals no longer seemed to feel unrealistic. As if a Celestine power had laid its hand on my chest and calmed my heart into peace. The peace that comes with knowing that some way somehow, everything is going to be ok… My plans of going to University had now been pushed back an entire year, because according to the Canadian school system, the Fairfax county school district showed a certain lack of competence which required a semester long cleansing process in order to gain entry into Canadian universities. I was furious, but I could do very little to remediate to the situation. I felt powerless and lacking control. A vasectomy would have been just fine, if I had been consulted… I walked inside the doors of Lakeshore Catholic High School one fateful September morning and within minutes of my arrival, I had started devising a plan of conquest. Like any other school, it was divided into the different, often common demographic groups. Port Colborne Ontario being a majority Caucasian farming town, I knew playing on my different skin pigmentation was going to be key. Scarcity creates attraction and I knew every single one of those girls in their little over raised kilts had once pleased themselves with the visual aid of black pornography… Phase one of my plan was to find a way inside the inner circles. Law number 6 of the code that I now lived by, commanded me to court attention at all costs. But in order for the latter to be effective, it had to be on my terms. I would find the map to Eldorado, the morning I walked in gym class and the subject of exercise was Basketball that day. We were quickly divided into 5 groups and started playing a pick-up game that saw me walk away with the title of MVP due to 45 points, 10 blocks and 22 assists… Following the class, the gym teacher whose name happened to be Lionel Richie, approached me. Mr. Richie had been the director of the athletic department at Lakeshore for the last 15 years but was also the coach of the basketball team. “You have a natural talent kid; have you thought about trying out for the team?” It had been the first thing on my mind that morning; until my mind lit up in an epiphany that would make me do a complete 360 turn… “I have thought about it, but unfortunately this is my last semester and I want to concentrate onto getting into a good school” I replied. I then grabbed my gym bag and began walking away. Mr. Richie followed in my steps doing his best to convince me of all the positives that would manifest if I was to keep an open mind on his proposal. I agreed to give it some thought and we parted ways. The weeks that would follow would be marked by a series of bribes from the Athletic 87

department, which ranged from extra credits to free tickets to the school snowboarding trip; with no success to their cause. Until Mr. Richie pulled the one weapon in his arsenal I had been praying for.. It was shortly following my third period math class when I decided to go grab a bite to eat in the cafeteria. After paying for my meal I sat on a corner bench and decided to dedicate the free hour I had on my hands to some quality time with Sun Tzu’ s the art of war. In the midst of a chapter that elaborated on the deceptive element behind all warfare, I peripherally noticed an approaching figure taking a seat right in front of me. “Rob? I’m Jack”… Jack Creighton was the star quarter back for Lakesho re, the captain of the basketball team and arguably the most popular guy in school. A subtle observation of his comings and goings added to a detailed study of his MySpace profile had indicated that Jack was the beholder of the key to my quick rise thr ough the school’s social ranks. I threw a quick look around the room and my eyes landed on the table where all the presumably cool kids congregated to hear the word of Mr. Creighton. There seemed to be a high level of agitation that was indicated by a series of inquisitive looks. They were wondering who I was and what I had done to spark Jack’s valuable interest… He extended his arm across the table to shake my hand and I just looked at it. I then slowly closed my book, took a couple of sips out of the juice box beside me, made strong eye contact and said: “How can I help you?” in a very neutral tone. He withdrew his hand and as he did so, I could read the fear within his eyes. “Well, you know I’m the captain of the basketball team right?” he asked, in an intimidated tone. I then intensified my eye contact, took another sip out of my juice box and said: “Am I supposed to?”… The sound of those words immediately drew a constipated facial expression all over Jack’s face. He was used to the adulation of all his p ears and for the first time in his High school career, he had stumbled upon the only individual that would not bow at his feet and he had no idea how to deal with it; it was like watching a drowning pup. He then broke out into a timid chuckle and said: “Ri ght, you are new to the school. How could you know?” his naivety was source of great amusement but I let him carry on. “Look we are really interested in having you on board; it would be a great honor”… The effects of my tactics were now showing results; t hey were begging the wrong way and I had every intention of taking advantage of it. I slowly moved my tray of food to the side, lowered my voice then said: “Look , Jack. It’s Jack right?” I said, pretending to have forgotten his name as he nodded affirmativ ely. “I am

going to tell you the same thing I told your coach. I have different priorities this year; I can’t play basketball.” I then broke eye contact and went to reach for my book. He then went on for a good ten minutes about how high their chances of going to provincial finals were this year and I didn’t l ift an eye out of my book. Until he finally said the words I had been fantasizing about for the last couple of weeks… “Rob look, I am having a party at my place tonight. You should come and meet some of the guys on the team; great group of kids.” Upon finishing his statement, he slid closer, put on a mischievous smile and said: “Plus there will be some pretty generous ladies if you know what I mean.” He had hit a soft spot without even knowing it. I took my eyes out of my book and looked at him in silence as the anticipation for my answer twisted his intestines dry. I then looked around the room and my eyes landed on the cool kids table again. I had had my eyes on a cute little blonde haired, tight bod ied thing that went by the name of Molly Fairgrieve for a couple of weeks now. I was yet to be late once for my 8 A.M. English class, solely for the fact that I liked the way her perky little breasts bounced in her see through white shirt, when she waltzed in 15 minutes late every morning... A perfect spectacle to start a morning with. Tonight could possibly give me a shot at sealing the deal… “Where do you live?” I asked, while getting back to my book prior to him answering. “I live right here; in Port” h e answered, unable to mask the sudden rejuvenation of his enthusiasm. He was cooked; it was time to go in for the kill. I turned a page in my book then said: “I’m sure it’s a good time. But I am going to have to pass.” The look on his face reminded me why I had decided to stay out of the medical field. This must have been the look doctors get after telling a patient they have cancer.. “May I ask why at least?” he said, in a genuinely perturbed tone. I closed my book in a loud bang and replied: “I live in Fort Erie, that’s 45 minutes away. I don’t have a ride up here.” His eyes lit up again and he said: “That’s not an issue; I got you. I will pick you up whenever you tell me to.." The deed was now done; Mr. Creighton was now in my pocket, and with him came a trail of the primmest high school vagina money could buy. This was just getting to be way too easy… I slowly tore a piece of paper out of one of my binders and handed it to him. “Write your number on here; I will call you if I decide to take you up on you r offer.” He had the smile of a child being told about a toys r us trip he had been begging for for months. He handed the piece of paper back to me, then attempted to resume conversation. I put my hand up to stop him and said: “Mr. Creighton, I believe I have dedicated a fair amount of my lunch time to you. If you

don’t mind I would l ike to now finish it and get ready for class .." He apologized profusely for his disturbance, gathered his affairs and said: “Hopefully you will make up your mind positively and we’ll see you tonight brother.” I threw a slow, silent look at him; he clearly got the message and walked away; not knowing that I had made up my mind weeks prior to that whole entire exercise. I neatly folded the piece of paper with Jack’s number and p ut it away. I then buried my head in my book, took a deep breath while trying to mask the smile on my face and then walked to class… That night I was dancing in the bathroom while getting ready for the evening ; before deciding to gather my composure and give Jack a call. An hour later, we were pulling into his family home’s driveway, which had a fleet of several luxury vehicles scattered all around. We walked through the front door of his parent’s massive house and it was as if everyone had just seen San ta walk in. Jack went around the room introducing me and in that moment I felt like a movie star… He then took off to go get us drinks leaving me behind in a circle of high school basketball players who were arguably convinced I was the second coming of the Christ. “C’mon man, I have seen you in gym class. If you join the squad we are taking provincials for sure.” said a kid who had introduced himself as Jamie; I entertained their rhetoric for a l ittle while until my eye was suddenly caught by a short haired blonde girl wearing jeans shorts. It was Molly, looking as if she had just stepped off a Dukes of Hazard set… I immediately started walking in her direction and once close, I snuck behind her silently and whispered in her ear. “So besides walking, wh at else are those bad boys made for?” then took a step back. She laughed, quickly turned around and seemed shocked at my sight. “Mr. super star; what’s it to ya?”.. I laughed, took a step closer and said: “No need for titles, I give you permission to call me Rob. Only for tonight though.” She laughed rather loudly, tapped my arm gently and said: “Do I strike you as the type of girl that needs permission for anything?” Within the first five minutes of our little interaction, she had given out an initial interest indicator by tapping my arm. I suddenly thought to myself how easier all these procedures seemed to get as days went by. At first , I had assumed my obsession to be of a sexual nature, but the last five minutes had just shown me that the majority of my interest lied in the chase more than anything else; just because by that simple little tap on my arm, Molly had just signaled submission. My desire for her instantly decreased a hundred folds .. My mother had however thought me not to spit in my food, no matter how full I was. A little over half of the guys in here would go home to masturbate to the thought of Molly and her little

Jeans shorts as visual aid; hence why I answered the call of duty by letting her guide me to a nearby bedroom in the name of th e greater good... Within a month following the party, I had attained complete super star status at school and I loved every moment of it. Girls were falling out of the sky and onto my feet at a staggering rate. The tad bit stressful thing with being sing le in High school and having your cock elected as the new it thing for girls to shove down their throats however, was the fact that the word got around quick, which was fantastic due to an ever expending referral network of girls looking to sip on your load, but being quite the cocksmith was an absolutely essential ingredient to the success of the operation. Fucking half way was out of the question; I had to make the sweetest of love to all of them. Law number 5 of the code I lived by clearly outlined that my reputation was everything and I had to guard it with my life… Living a dream however requires waking up from time to time. My alarm went off the day I walked into my religion class from the half mark brake, to find the binder that contained my notes in the garbage. I stood in front of the bin for about a minute or so, and then threw a quick look around the room. Once my gaze reached the back of the class, my suspicions of the individual that was guilty of this most heinous of acts were quickly confirme d.. I had never been one to make enemies; I find them distracting and poisonous to the mind. High school however, was a merciless jungle that showed no love to the ones that exhibited weakness. I had to take care of this situation before it spiraled out of control. I picked my binder up from the garbage, walked to the back of the class and threw it on his desk… The animosity between me and a gentleman that went by the name of Justin Joritsma, had originated from the fact that he had found out about my dea lings with an ex-girlfriend he still had feelings for. She went by the name of Leila and she had been my first form of intercourse on school grounds. Justin had found out a week later and had made it a mission to make my life unnecessarily complicated. What had started off as some benign threats had now escalated into a full declaration of war..“Do you have a problem with me Justin? Or is it that you just don’t like my hand writing?” I asked, while sitting down on the chair in front of him. He looked at me, pushed my fresh out of the garbage binder on the ground and said: “No boy; my problem is with your dick.” My first initial thought in the moment was to leap off the chair I was sitting on in order to introduce my fist to his windpipe. But the thought of a suspension a month and a half prior to graduation seemed not worth having a taste of Mr. Joritsma’s blood. I decided I was going to deal with him on my own terms…

I let out a low, obnoxious laugh and said: “Alrighty then.” Then proceeded to picking up my binder and walking out of the class accompanied by a: “That’s right pussy. Walk away!!!” I had never had a hard time keeping my composure in the past but I was boiling with rage in that moment and I was positive it was a matter of time before something bad happened. I walked into the washroom and splashed some water on my face; hoping for it to calm me down; then made my way to math class… I walked in class a half hour late as it was slowly becoming a constant due to the fact that the majority of my new friends had the same time slot for lunch and I often got caught in the social circle. The class was taught by a woman that went by the name of Melissa Bartley. She looked to be in her late 20’s . She was the girl’s rugby coach and had the physique to go wi th it. Once the class was over, I gathered my belongings quickly hoping to catch my friends in the cafeteria before they headed to class. I had almost reached the door when Miss Bartley’s voice summoned me in a bit of an unpleasant tone. “Rob, I need you t o stick behind for a minute; we need to talk”… The sound of those words so far all through out my l ife had never been synonymous of anything that I deemed constructive, and I had a feel ing they were not about to start today. I approached her desk which w as situated at the back of the class room and sat on a chair facing her. “Yes ma’am, what can I do for you?” I said, while sitting back and crossing my legs with a smile on my face in order to show her that I was in no way afraid of her or what she could p ossibly have to say… My body language caught her off guard, but she didn’t say anything. She then went on a rumble about my less than exemplary attendance and the fact that I showed no interest in the subject, while I fantasized in the mean time about ripping her bra off with my bare teeth in order to free a set of double d breasts that had been begging her blue cotton shirt to let them out and play. I would however violently snap out of it, to the sound of words that felt like a surprise colonoscopy… “If you don’t score at least a 92% on tomorrow’s final, you will not graduate.” My testicles shriveled and mounted in my stomach, where for a fraction of a second I thought they were being digested. “What do you mean, I need a 92%? I handed in my transcripts, I have a credit for this class already!!!” I said, in an alarmed tone. She went on to explain to me how my credit in the class from the U.S did not count due to the difference in both curriculums. Unable to contain my nausea, I decided to go get some fresh air; but every step I took somehow felt

heavier than the other.. I sat on a nearby stoop and lit a cigarette; suddenly I felt the urge to just burry my head in the ground. I had lost sight of the bigger picture; all my energy had been invested in my s ocial life and I had completely neglected my school work. Now as a result, the possibility of repeating my last year of high school for a second time was becoming an alarming reality. Every puff of my cigarette reminded me of the dire consequences of my de cisions which had now undoubtedly caught up with me. I finished my cigarette and began walking into the school building to gather my belongings and head home; not knowing that I was walking in one of the most pivotal moments of my life… I walked towards my locker while holding a small conversation with a little redhead named Nicole that was in the middle of testing the elasticity of my boxers, by insisting on how flexible she was due to years of gymnastic classes, when I froze in my tracks at the sight of the number of people that were congregating around it. Then suddenly I heard a loud: “This is fucking bullshit!!! Fuck this school man!!!”… I instantly recognised the voice behind the statement. It was Gedeon Balabyekubo; one of the five black students that attended Lakeshore Catholic including my sister Jocelyne. He furiously made his way out of the crowd and began walking in my direction. Once he caught sight of me, he stopped dead in his tracks and said: “Did you see that shit man? Did you fucking see it?” I speed walked through the crowd around my locker and the second I laid eyes on it, my eardrums exploded inside of my head into a buzzing sound that just drowned all forms of outside noises for an undefined period of time… Someone had spray painted the word” Nigger”, in big black letters across the length of my locker. I had never really been the subject of a racial act before and I had no idea of the appropriate reaction in such circumstances, but regardless I knew that something of a cosmic magnitu de had to be done. I suddenly felt a strong hand grip my shoulder and I quickly turned around. It was Jack; he looked at me then looked around the room and loudly said: “To whoever wrote this shit; know that we will find you and we will fuck your ass up. T hat’s not even a threat; It’s a fucking promise!!!”.. I gave Jack’s shoulder a gentle tap and said: “that won’t be necessary brother, but I appreciate the effort.” If there was anyone feeling awkward about the situation, it was him. I could read it on his face. His integration efforts even though ulteriorly motivated at first, had earned him a friend he had grown to like. In his mind this despicable act was likely to create some bad blood that could very well divide the school and he was offering his vigilante services to clearly indicate which side he was on…

There was absolutely no doubt in my mind when it came down to the identity of the individual I suspected for all this wrong doing. I could have very easily unleashed Jack and a few of his line backe r friends on Justin but I felt like the code I now lived by couldn’t allow me to do so for two reasons. First one being the fact that I could not allow Jack to be in a position where he felt like I was indebted to him in any way; leverage can be a dangerou s weapon in the wrong hands. The second and final reason was that Law number 15 of my blue print to life stated that it was my duty to crush my enemies totally. Somehow a standard beat down did not feel like it was going to be enough to appease the gods of revenge… In the midst of planning a trip to the bookstore in order to get me a copy of Joseph Conrad’s heart of darkness for torture study purposes, the vice principal’s voice split the crowd faster than Moses’s baton had done the Red sea. “Why are you all people not in class? What is going on here?” Being in the center of the circle and the fuss being around my locker, Vice Principle Maloney began walking in my direction, his body language indicating that he had every intention of giving me a hard time… He had just begun a sentence with my last name that I immediately foresaw being the beginning to a long road leading to detention, when he noticed the writing on my locker. His pupils dilated so hard that I thought I could account for each and every membrane if I had dedicated myself to the task. “Who did this?” he asked, in a tone that seemed to be having a hard time holding on to life. “No Idea ,” I casually responded. He looked at me with his piercing blue eyes and I could see that he had no difficult y deciphering the fact that I was lying. He then pointed at me and said: “You; my office. The rest of you people move on and go to class immediately or detentions will be a la carte!!!.” I began walking towards his office as he followed close behind me, ordering fleets of kids to tuck in their uniform shirts as he went along. As we turned the corner to enter his office, his phone rang and he quickly picked it up without checking the caller I.D then said: “Constable Richards, How are you?” My heart skipped a beat at the thought of involving the Law in the present situation. It meant my parents were probably going to get involved and that was never synonymous of anything good at all. I raised my ear to listen in the conversation and by the grace of God the volume on his phone was high enough to allow me to do so… “Everything is ready for tomorrow’s operation. We will bring the dogs around 1:30p.m.” V ice principle Maloney realizing that I was curiously leaning in, threw a death stare my way and said: “Constable, let me call you back in a few. I was in the

midst of dealing with something.” He then quickly hung up the phone. I began putting the pieces of the puzzle together; it would all click ten minutes into an interrogation session that closely resembled the ones administrated in communist Russia. The school had arranged for a surprise sweep of the grounds by the K-9 unit the following day. The trafficking of Marijuana in the school had been slowly increasing and this was their effort to put an end to it. My face suddenly l it up and I bit my l ip to prevent the evil grin that was forming on it from seeing life. The universe had sent me a way of punishing Justin in a swift manner for his actions… Vice Principle Maloney finally agreed to let me go after reassuri ng me of his unparalleled dedication to finding the perpetrator behind all the shenanigans, and I quickly sprinted for the cafeteria. Once there, I pulled out my cell phone and sent Jack a quick text message: “I need a favor. Meet me in the caf ASAP.” He w ould sneak out of class five minutes later to find me experimenting with some lasagna I doubted met any basic FDA standards. “What’s going on bro? What do you need?” I signaled him to sit down and he did so across from me… “I need you to find something for me in a short period of time.” The sound of my words intrigued him and he moved closer. “What is it?” he asked in a conspiratory tone. I then made eye contact and began: “I need you to find me some coke before tonight.” All the blood in his face suddenl y drained downwards as he gave me a shocked and appalled look. “Since when do you do coke?” he asked, in a tone that clearly indicated now risen doubts on all fundamentals behind our young friendship. “It’s not for me. There is just this l ittle fine thing from Niagara Falls I’m seeing right now and we were talking on the phone last night and she told me how much she would love to snort a line off my cock. .." He laughed and excitedly shook my hand in a congratulatory fashion. “And you know me broheim , I am a gentleman; can’t say no to a lady right?” Jack quickly took a look around the room then said: “That’s some porno shit bro. Where do you find these bitches?” I laughed at his comment that in no way I found amusing then said: “So what’s the word? You think you can do it on such a small deadline?” He smiled, then reached in his pocket for his cell phone and said: “I am Jack Creighton; of course I can make it happen”… I smiled, got up from the table and said: “I will call you around 4 p.m.” then walked away with a small sense of victory. The first phase of my plan was likely to be a success. I felt a bit bad about lying to Jack; I could have let him in on the true nature of my plan and I was sure he would have gladly participated to an overzealous extent. But unfortunately Law number 3 on the l ist of commandments that were now my life model, clearly stated that I had to conceal my intentions at all time. And in addition putting too much trust in friends was a frowned upon

notion as well. It was not my place to pick and choose which Laws I was going to follow and the ones I intended to disregard. Jack would later on meet me behind the school with 2 grams of cocaine in his possession that I then hid in my socks prior to walking home. That night, despite the excitement of putting the final pieces of the puzzle together and getting rid of Justin once and for all, I would spend it studying for the Math test that was going to decide the fat e of my upcoming summer, not to say my entire upcoming year. I could not affo rd to repeat another year of High school; University was going to be my way out and I was willing to do whatever it takes to make sure freedom was not postponed for another year. No matter how hard I tried to study however, I could not bring myself to focu s on the task at hand… Math had always been the only subject where my will power no matter how loudly summoned, could never carry me through. Such subjects as History and Politics however, greatly fascinated me. I promised myself that if I was to pass this test, this would absolutely be the last Math class I sign up for in my scholastic career. I studied until the early hours of the morning and as I laid my head down in order to fool my body into a rested state, my alarm went off and it was time to get ready for school. I immediately sprung out of bed; I couldn’t afford to slack. I had an eventful day ahead of me… I walked into the school building and when I began making my way towards my locker, I came face to face with Justin who was walking in the opp osite direction. He immediately changed course and started walking in my direction; as he walked by me, he bumped my shoulder and I turned around to face him. “What boy? You gonna do something or just stare at me from over there?” We quickly walked closer to each other to the point where our noses were almost touching in a faceoff stand… “Go ahead boy, make my day. Let’s take this outside and that little inscription I made on your locker will seem like nothing compared to the beat down I w ill lay on that ass.” The urge of sinking to his level was eating at me. I wanted to tell him exactly what I thought of him; at this point I did not even care if it escalated into an outburst of violence. My conscience however would keep referring back to my code which clearly stated under Law number 4 that I had to always say less than necessary… I slowly smiled and sucked my teeth at Justin; then took a step back and gave him a disdainful body scan as I walked away. I impatiently made my way through all my morning classes while my entire focus was dedicated to seeing my plan to fruition. 12 P.M came around and I made my way to gym class; one of the other 96

classes Justin and I both shared. I purposely arrived late in order to be the only one in the change room while everyone else had made their way into the gymnasium. After five minutes of my gym teacher voicing his distaste of my time management skills, I finally made my way inside the empty change rooms. I looked around for the gym bag Justin had on his shoulder that mor ning during our little confrontation. I would find it under a nearby bench and proceeded to reach all the way at the bottom and planting the cocaine I had obtained from Jack the day before, then quickly walked away… Once 1:30 P.M. came around, the principal came over the speaker system announcing an immediate school lock down. Everyone had to stay exactly where they were until informed to do otherwise. The loud bark of police dogs invaded the hallways terrorizing all drug dealers in the school who had bel ieved they could go about their business in a consequence free world indefinitely. They brought the dogs in the gym and they immediately began sniffing their way towards the change room. The officers then led them in and five minutes later, one of them summoned my gym teacher into the change room. As soon as he shut the door behind him, I walked towards Justin and whispered: “It’s payback o’clock bitch!” He had not had the chance to decode my statement when the gym teacher walked back out and said: “Justin, come here for two seconds.” Then walked back inside the change room. Justin quickly walked in his steps and a few seconds later, I could hear a huge argument breaking out. In his rage he tried to get physical with the officers present and they had to forcefully pin him down and put him in handcuffs. He was then escorted against his will outside the change room screaming on top of his lungs. “That shit is not mine man. I don’t know how the fuck it got there”… As he reached the gymnasium doors, it suddenly cl icked in his head. “You fucking Nigger, you framed me. He fucking framed me; he is the one who put it there.” My gym teacher furious at the new turn of events suddenly broke out and said: “Justin, shut the fuck up and assume the consequences of your ow n actions like a man.” He then helped the officers expedite the process by holding on to his legs as they carried him out in a suspended vertical position. Justin then turned around to curse me a little more to find me smiling and waving at him as he went. He got expelled from school that same day and could no longer graduate that year… A part of me could not help but feel that I had maybe been a little rough in the way I handled things; but pity seemed to be a feeling I no longer felt towards those I considered enemies…

Later that afternoon I walked in my Math class with every intention of acing the final. I confidently took a seat at my desk and a few minutes into sweet talking a thunder thighed little brunette named Chelsea, Miss Bartley put the test face down on my desk then said: “I hope you came prepared,” then smiled and continued to hand out the test. I suddenly noticed she was not wearing a bra that afternoon; her erected nipples were attempting to drill their way out of a tight polyester shirt that was well complimented by very elegant form fitting gray dress pants. I suddenly regretted not putting in a bigger effort towards access to the teacher’s pet position… Upon signal to flip over our tests, I started looking through the questions. It might as well have been administered in Mandarin; I closed my eyes in the effort of accessing remote corners of my memory that might have held the answers to what I was seeing then. Five minutes in the process, I came to the sad realization that I had better chances of performing a successful open heart procedure on myself. It felt like the final chapter of my life had been written on the piece of paper in front of me. My world was officially ending; I had to repeat my last year of high school; for a second time… The following morning, I was informed by one of my peers that the scan-tron results were online. I walked up the library stairs to go use a computer with the demeanor of a man walking to the electric chair. Fifteen minutes later, I would have gladly taken the chair. I had scored a 43%; at that moment in my mind, my life had just become lack of better term, a complete clusterfuck… I took a seat in the cafeteria and laid my head on the table in between my arms. As soon as I reached the peak comfort level of my submissive body language, I quickly l ifted my head up and sat straight. A posture that portrayed weakness violated very important Laws of my new code of conduct. Law number 34 clearly stated that I had to act royal in all fashions; act like a King i n order to be treated like one. Kings don’t show weakness regardless of the burden on their royal shoulders… I had not gotten to the bottom of an internal dialogue dedicated to figuring out if I would look good with a crown or not, when I noticed an approaching short blonde haired girl.. “Hey you; what are you doing here all by yourself ?” Molly had taken a seat beside me, and her l ittle over raised kilt was revealing some milky thighs I was having a hard time keeping my teeth away from. “I’m just going through some shit right now; it’s nothing. Give me a bit.” She smiled, gently grabbed on to my neck, kissed my cheek then said: “Well I’m sure there is ways I

can help,” as she proceeded to grabbing a handful of my crotch and stroking it through my cotton pants… I debated taking her up on her offer by bending her over the Zamboni in the genitor’s storage closet, but my heart was not into it. I grabbed her hand and slowly guided it off my crotch against her will then said: “It’s just not a good time right now babe. I’m just not in the mood.” The second her brain finished processing my statement, I noticed that she took offense to it. She gave me a deadly stare then said: “Oh so it’s like that? You fuck me once and all of a sudden you can’t touch me anymore, you prick?” as a tear ran down her cheek. I had no idea why she had taken this so seriously, so in order to avoid any more unnecessary tear shedding; I decided to come clean… “I failed my Math final. I am going to have to come back again next year.” I had not realized the pain behind that concept until I said those words out loud. I suddenly thought of my parents and the conversation I was going to have to hold with them. Molly’s tears suddenly felt more insignificant than ever; until she said the few little words that would take my life from one end of a dark spectrum and propel it down one synonymous with everything good in life.. “Yea Bartley is a bitch; don’t worry, she goes to my dad’s bar every night. I will have my sister spit in her drink.” Originally, I was amused by her unorthodox solution to my situation. But then suddenly her sentence began playing louder and louder in my head. As if I was meant to find a hidden treasure within those few words; and that’s when it happened. My mouth froze open an d I quickly sprung off the bench I was seating on and headed to my locker. Molly sat back astonished by the speed at which I was running away from her. I however could not afford to waste anymore of my very now precious time. I had found a way to save my y ear and graduate with my class… Later that night, I would walk inside the Fairgrieve bar and grill to find a small crowd of regulars who immediately wondered who I was. The barmaid quickly walked in my direction demanding to see a piece of identificatio n. I handed her my driver’s licence and when she finished thoroughly examining it said: “Freshly turned 19 huh?” I smiled then took my identification back and said: “Age ain’t nothing but a number right?” My little R. Kelly quote earned me a free Tequila shot and some quality conversation with her. She then later informed me that she was Molly’s cousin; putting a complete end to the possibility of a dinner brake nookie in the female washroom…

I threw a quick look around the bar to find Miss Bartley sittin g at a table at the far end corner of the room grading papers with a glass of wine in front of her. I quickly turned towards the barmaid and said: “What is she drinking?” She smiled and said: “Do you like her?” in a tone that indicated the possibility of a great deal of disappointment if the latter was indeed a fact. “Nah, she is my math teacher and she helped me pass my final big time. I just want to buy her a drink.” She seemed relieved at the sound of my words and said: “It’s just the house Shiraz; she has it every time she comes here. Her fiancée is deployed in Afghanistan.” That quickly explained why she was grading papers in a bar. She hated being home alone. This could potentially mean great news… I waited until she was almost done with her drink, t hen picked up the glass of wine in one hand and my beer in another and began walking in her direction. As soon as she noticed me approaching, she lifted her head up and said: “Rob? What are you doing here?” in a surprised tone. I warmly smiled at her and s aid: “You my lady are a pioneer; managing to mix business and pleasure in such a subtle and delicate manner is definitely worthy of applause.” as I sat and put both drinks down. She let out a discreet laugh then threw a nervous look around the room. “I don’t think this is very appropriate Rob.” I had spent the last fifteen minutes mentally preparing myself for that objection. I looked her in the eye then said: “Cut me some slack Miss Bartley. My dreams of going to college just got postponed for a year due to your class. The least you can do is have one drink with me. Plus something tells me that you can use the company”… She seemed shocked yet a bit aroused by my late remark as she broke out in a faint smile and said: “What are you some sort of mind reader or something?” The sound of her words allowed my body to enjoy the effects of a deep exhalation. I was in; I just had to play my cards right and everything was going to be ok. “Well a great man once said that the eyes of a pretty lady are the mirror to he r soul. Yours betray a certain sense of loneliness.” She couldn’t help but vividly blush at the sound of my words then said: “You are pretty smart for someone who never comes to class.” as she took a sip out of the drink I had just bought her… Twenty five minutes later, the flow of the conversation inspired a drink transition from wine and beer to Tequila shots. I decided it was then appropriate to move on to the second phase of my approach after some very effective rapport building. “So tell me Miss Bartley, What’s your story? Everyone has one.” She took another shot then said: “You can call me Melissa, just for tonight ,” as what looked like a suggestive smile invaded her entire face. She then went on about her background and where she grew up with a sense of openness and honesty you only

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find in children. But then finally, she started talking about the one subject I had bated her to this whole entire time; her fiancée… She went on for about ten minutes about how lonely she felt sometimes and how his deployment had taken a toll on her emotionally. My plan was working to perfection. I wanted her to talk about the matter because then and only then she could effectuate a comparison of how she was feeling at that moment and how she usually felt. She hadn’t laughed and had a good time like this in a long time and her subconscious mind was in the midst of associating me with those happy feelings, while her fiancée in that moment was associated with feelings of loneliness and melancholy… I then made eye contact with her and slowly slid my hand down the table in her direction in order to hook her pinky finger to mine and said: “God would never give a beautiful woman such as you a burden she felt like you could not carry. She sees the strength in you and knows you can get through this.” She bursted out laughing and said: “Did you say she; while referring to God?” I smiled, gently squeezed her pinky finger tighter and said: “Of course; look at all the beauty around you. The only logical explanation behind it is that i t could not have been created by anything other than the hand of a beautiful woman.” My unorthodox views on divinity seemed to unleash a flood of attraction that flew through out her body causing the moistening of certain areas I almost certainly knew where going to encounter my tongue that night. She let go of my pinky then fully grabbed my hand and said: “You are so sweet Rob, it’s unbelievable,” as she gently rubbed my hand with her thumb. It was time to go in for the kill. I ordered a few more shots an d twenty minutes later we were both stumbling out of the closing bar. “So are you going to be a gentleman and walk a lady home?” she asked, slightly slurring her words… I smiled and pulled her closer to me by her shoulder and she laid her head on mine as we walked down the street. “Well it’s all depending” I replied, while gauging the next question out of her. “On what?” she asked, rather curiously. “On how much distress she is in.” she stopped walking and we stood facing each other in the middle of the side walk and she said: “Well, now that you mention it I think there might be monsters under my bed.” I started jumping up and down inside my mind. The deal was sealed, the invitation had arrived… I then looked her in the eyes as our heads were getting closer and closer then said: “That indeed sounds like the level of distress that requires my expertise.” We then locked l ips and started sensually making out. Five minutes later we walked into her modernly furnished apartment and I threw my jacket on a nearb y leather 101

sectional. She took off her shoes and made her way towards me on her knees as she hosted a naughty smile on her face. I had my arms spread over the length of the couch when she kissed my neck and began undoing my belt. “Ou la la, I definitely applaud the enthusiasm here” I said, while gently running my hand through her hair… She returned the compliment by running her tongue down my now bare abdomen and taking me in her mouth. Incomparable warmth took over me as she drenched my cock with gallons of saliva and began stroking it to the edge of ecstasy. I pulled her head towards me in the effort to stop her from making me reach climax and passionately kissed her to thank her for rendered services. We made out until we were both naked, then she proce eded by slowly sliding down my monstrously erect penis as she dug her nails in my back with every pump I sent her way. I then licked my middle finger and began running circles around the rim of her rectum while she was still riding me… The effects were mind boggling. On the edge of orgasm she started speeding up her movements as she begged me to keep my finger exactly where it was. “Oh Roby , please don’t stop!!!” I could feel myself getting closer as well; as bolts that very closely resembled lightning’s, felt as though they were going to shoot out of my cock. A few minutes later I would explode in her the moment she climaxed moaning at the top of her lungs, and we would both pass out on the couch watching television… The following morning, I opened my eyes shortly after sunrise to find Miss Bartley still lying asleep on my chest. It was time to begin the final stage of my plan, but in order for this to happen I had to wait for her to wake up first. And twenty five minutes later, she did; I pretended to still be asleep when I heard a disgruntled “Fuck!!! What did I do? Oh God, What did I do?” I slowly opened my eyes still pretending to be half asleep, then quickly jumped off the couch still naked. “Oh Fuck!!! Miss Bartley? What the fuck happened last nig ht?” We went on for fifteen minutes trying to recollect a set of events I clearly remembered every detail of… It was time; I managed to spot a more perturbed look than the one I already had on then said: “I have to tell my girlfriend. I can’t hide someth ing like this from her.” I then looked up to find Miss Bartley sending a homicidal look my way and said: “What the fuck do you mean, you have to tell your girlfriend? If anyone finds out I will lose my job.” I started putting my clothes back on and after I was done said: “I’m sorry Miss Bartley, I just can’t keep this from her, it’s an honest mistake

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and I’m sure she will understand the gravity of it not to go around talking about it.” Then started walking towards the door… She quickly sprung off the couch while wrapping a bed sheet she had grabbed from the bedroom the night before around her breasts, then followed in my steps yelling: “Wait, hold on don’t go!!!” I debated making a joke about her wanting seconds but found it to possibly have detrimental ef fects on the goal I was attempting to accomplish; so I stood there in silence instead. “What if I made you a deal to keep you silent about all of this?” she said, while slowly pulling me towards the living room couch. “What if I gave you the credit for my class and in return you just manage to keep this whole thing to yourself ?” “As much as I would love to graduate with my class and go to University , I am going to say no Miss Bartley. I would not feel like I earned the credit. But I must leave; my girlfriend is probably worried sick about my whereabouts.” I then attempted to get off the couch and she pulled me down again and said: “Trust me; you fully earned the credit last night. Consider our little forbidden romance an extra credit assignment. Rob please; I don’t want to lose my job. Please , just take the credit ok?” That is when faintly smiled, kissed her on the cheek and said: “OK .” I then got up and walked away. I could feel her astonished look on the back of my neck. As if in that moment, she realized I had planned the last twelve hours of her life with immaculate precision…

WHEN IN ROME.. A month following my little intimate encounter with Miss Bartley, I found myself the happy recipient of an acceptance letter from Brock University. Despite the well-known slogan that stated that if you could talk and walk you could get into Brock, I still considered it a major accomplishment view the sticky situation I was in a month prior. I would be undertaking a Political Science honors program which I still planned to use as my gateway into Law school. Even though a bright light seemed to be illuminating the horizon, I was far from reaching my goal just yet… By now my family’s stay in Canada was quickly approaching the two year mark. We were far from becoming citizens of the country just yet, but we were a few of the lucky ones whose usually excruciatingly slow immigration process had moved at an impressive pace. We were now permanent residents , which meant that we had all the rights of a citizen besides a Canad ian passport and the right to vote. The issue with this otherwise fantastic news however, was the fact that our

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immigration status had changed from refugee to permanent resident in the midst of my university appl ication review process. The latter meant I c ould start school but could not receive any form of financial aid until I had a new Social insurance number corresponding to my new immigration status… “You better be up no later than 7:30 AM every morning or you have no ride to school.” Those words from my father felt like a hand reaching through my throat for my intestines. The letter from immigration Canada outlined that the process of receiving our new social insurance numbers would take anywhere between four to six months. Which meant the whole entire first semester of my University experience would be no different from my high school years. Brock university being a 45 minute drive outside the town in which my parents lived, I was now carpooling with my father on his way to work, then taking a coach b us on the way back in the middle of the night. It was a complete nightmare… Despite the major improvement in my home life due to the fact that my mother was now working as a registered nurse and my father as a paralegal in a Law firm and not to mention all the special treatment I now received for making it into university to the great surprise of my parents, I had always envisioned the post-secondary portion of my education as a form of liberation. A time in which I could truly exercise my right as the co mmander of my own soul; the captain of my own fate. Instead I had spent my first month in University l istening to my friends tell the tale of the wild times the evening held in my absence; I could no longer live like this.. The universe however in its infi nite grace and generosity would send the answer to my prayers in the form of a Facebook friend request… I got home late one night on a chilly September evening after a long day of school and decided to directly head to bed. I had an 8 A.M. Geography clas s the following morning and the assignment I had to hand in had taken a vicious toll on my already exhausted brain cells. I laid in bed and decided to browse my way to sleep; upon logging onto my Facebook, my sight was quickly caught by an alert indicating a pending friend request. I cl icked on it to find the picture of a brown haired girl with hazel eyes and an award winning smile… “Well, well, well; hello darling.” After getting over the slightly predatory sound of that internal dialogue, I decided to be gin a detailed profile study. Her name was Erica Kleer; my curiosity was quickly aroused by the fact that I did not recognise her face nor did we have any friends in common. I started go ing through her pictures; one by one I would analyze every single one of her little over a hundred and fifty pictures spread over four albums in search of insider clues into her life. Like any other 17 year old girl, she seemed to have mastered the art of self -taken

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pouted lips mirror shots. She appeared social and enjoyable to be around due to the many smiling faces that were often around her in her pictures. Ten minutes in the process I started thinking that my search was not giving me any extra Intel that went over the regular psychological traits of a 17 year old white g irl. Until I came to a conclusion that would forever retire that night in history… Before adjourning my quest, I decided to take another tour of an album on her profile that was entitled family. I came to the conclusion that she only had one sibling; a 13 year old blonde hair, blue eyed boy that the tag indicated went by the name of Alex. Then suddenly, the one element I felt like I had been looking for this entire time appeared in front of my eyes. There were pictures of her pausing with her mother and others of her pausing with her father; but never any of the both of them in the same picture. Not even in otherwise crucial Kodak moments, like her birthday, where one picture showed the both of them in the same room… She was the child of a messy divorce w ith a teenage brother that was in the midst of dealing with all kinds of puberty related hormones. Life was most likely not easy for her; explaining the almost shameless solicitation of my valued attention. She was just too easy; a wounded pray that just b egged my cock to put an end to its misery. My levels of interest quickly sunk and my mind slowly began drifting off towards planning the following day. A voice in me however kept telling me to at least send her a message. I attributed it to my unquenchable thirst for the chase and decided to do it the Sprite way; I obeyed it… “Hey pretty girl, thanks for the request. Do we know each other?” I pressed the send button and fell asleep. The following morning, I woke up to a response that would send me down a six months roller coaster ride. “Yea I think I met you at a party this weekend.” I had not been to a party since prom night. She was offering herself to me on a plate. After a week of text messages and long phone conversations, we decided to finally arrang e a meeting… We picked a Wednesday afternoon for our first encounter due to the fact that I was done with all my classes early during the day and she lived five minutes away from the school. 1 P.M. came around and I started making my way to the address she had given me over the phone the previous night. Being in her last year of High School, she was not done school until 3 P.M., so she instructed her mother’s boyfriend to let me in upon arrival… I walked into the lobby of a mid-size apartment building and rang the buzzer code she had just sent me over text message. It rang twice until a sleepy male voice answered on the other end. “Yes, Hello!” I debated turning around and waiting until Erica got home from school before going in; but a voice within me ar oused 105

by curiosity, instructed me to proceed as planned. “Hi, yes it’s Robert. Erica’s friend?” The gentleman on the other end politely asked me to repeat myself and I did. He then said: “Oh right; Robert, come on up”… My knocks on a light blue apartment door were answered by a shirtless man that looked to be in his early 50’s with a cigarette hanging outside the corner of his mouth. “Robert? I’m Frank.” He smiled and extended his hand to shake mine; his slight accent betrayed a strong Italian heritage. “P leasure meeting you Frank.” I replied, vividly shaking his hand and smiling. He showed me in and I took off my shoes at the front door. The entire apartment smelt like cigarettes and I suddenly felt the urge to light one of my own. Frank showed me to a Laz y boy recliner and excused himself to go to the bathroom; that is when I began looking around… I lit a cigarette and disposed of the match I had just used in a nearby over flowing ashtray. My sight was then caught by a glass that was sitting on the table, housing a content with physical properties that closely resembled those of whiskey. Frank had started early; I began wondering if my newest conquest’s mother’s poor taste in men was a reflective trait in her as well. “Could it be that low self-esteem is genetically transmissible?” I asked myself under my breath, as I kept on with my tour of the living room… In the midst of examining a family portrait with no male figure but a young blond haired boy that I recognised from my earlier Facebook profile analy sis, Frank re-emerged behind me and excitedly said: “Alright, just in time for Jerry Springer. Hey man can I offer you something to drink?” as he rubbed his hands together and took a sip of his own drink. I politely declined his offer under the pretense that I had a heavy school work load ahead of me. A few minutes into a pointless conversation with Frank, I realized that he was just a chain smoking, unshowered, lazy version of me. He fed off other’s need for love and validation, then worked the system to his advantage. “Could I be in the presence of a fellow mastermind despite the questionable hygiene?” I asked myself, as I closely re-examined his behavioral patterns… “So what do you do Frank?” I asked, as I watched him light his third cigarette in a fifteen minute time frame. He took a long drag then said: “I was a welder but I got into a workplace accident three years ago. Now I am just a professional boyfriend.” He then exploded into a loud laugh as he looked at me expecting me to do the same. I exchanged a few macho jokes with him in order to build rapport; who knew when he could come in handy. Th at is when door swung open and I slightly adjusted my body to notice a curvaceous girl in the doorway that instantly redefined my whole entire viewpoint on boot y shorts. “Hey Frankie, is Erica home

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yet?” she asked,as she made her way towards the living room. “Nah, not yet” responded Frank; with an expression that betrayed hours on end of intensive masturbation, at the thought of this young lady’s mouth -watering curves… “Oh my God, you must be Rob. I’m Nikki; Erica’s best friend. She told me all about you.” She extended her hand to shake mine and for an instant I lost myself in her black tank top and the magnificent set of breasts it held in captivity. “Nice meeting you Nikki.” I replied, attempting to hide the massive erection that was taking place in my jeans. Following a few minutes of random chit chat, she headed for the balcony and I followed in her steps. She then lit a cigarette and said: “So how long have you and Erica been talking?”… She knew the answer to that question but she had still inquired; looking to gauge how serious her best friend and I were. I had not finished putting together in my head an answer that would please Nikki’s ulterior motives when Erica walked through the balcony doors… She had on a pair of Yoga pants that left very little to the imagination. Upon laying eyes on me, she greeted me with a breath taking smile and leaped off her feet to wrap her arms around me. “Hi!” she said in a wh isper, as she deeply gazed in my eyes. I couldn’t help the gigantic smile that was now forming on my face as I went in for the first kiss. Upon first contact of both our lips, I felt an incalculable number of butterflies storm my stomach. She then grabbed my hand and we walked through the balcony doors towards her room… We busted through her bedroom door and immediately rushed for each other’s lips. I lifted her up and sat her against a mirror that was seated on top of a dresser; the feel of the yoga pants’ fabric against my fingers as I lustfully rubbed her thighs was creating a strong reaction in my pants. I began to slowly unbutton the form fitting flannel shirt she had on and the set of events that follow ed greatly put my improvisation abilities to the test… Half way down her shirt I began to taking it off as we still maintained our respective tongues down each other’s throats. I however had not fully cupped her well sized right breast when I felt her hand slice through the air and land on my left cheek in a slap that took me back to the days my mother used to help me with my homework. I immediately pulled back with a confused look on my face .. “Woah, If we are going to play rough shouldn’t we have a safe word established first? You know what they say; it’s always fun and games until someone gets hurt.” “You fucking asshole; all you want from me is sex. We haven’t even spent an hour together and you were already half way through my shirt. You are no different from all the other idiots out there.” She then got off the dresser and begun buttoning her shirt back up. I immediately recognised the consequences of 107

my negligence; I had rushed in the act despite what could have stood as mutual consent in a court of Law, without first establishing the intimacy factor in the equation. As a result it had created an understandable fear within her that now made me contemplate the filing of assault charges to the proper authorities… “Grab your stuff, I need you to leave.” As she completed her sentence, she started walking towards her shut bedroom door. I instantly rushed behind her; I had to put in work in order to salvage whatever was left of this romance that was now in the midst of being filed under my short lived category. “Hold on baby, wait! Come here, let me talk to you.” I held on to her arm and pulled her closer to me. “What?” she replied, in a rather aggressive tone. I held her face in both my hands and looked her straight in the eye. Her pupils began dilating; I felt a certain sense of relief. Despite her clearly voiced concern, her body language indicated that all hope was not lost. That is when I began… “Baby look, I’m sorry. You are right, I did let things move a little too quickly. But please; don’t think this is due to the fact that all I want from you is sex. It’s actually the furthest thing from it. The last couple of weeks I felt like we shared a connection through our phone conversations that I have not felt with anyone else in a long time. I guess I fell for you too quick and moved too fast. And fo r that I am sorry”… Her pupils suddenly tripled in size; she then grabbed both my hands and kissed them, while they still held on to her face. “No baby, don’t apologize. I am falling for you too, that’s probably why I started freaking out. You just seem too good to be true, hence why I’m probably paranoid.” She then stood on her tippy toes and wrapped her arms around me and said: “Sorry for slapping you baby”… I exhaled deeply as my blood pressure was reaching normal levels again. I had never been one to misread a situation to the point where a bad judgment call could have caused the loss of hours on end of preparation. This could in no way turn into a reoccurring event… “If you promise you won’t do it again, unless I obviously ask you to for a different purpose, then I will debate not pressing charges.” She let out a sound that closely resembled a mix of a giggle and a cry, then kissed me. The temperatures began to quickly rise again; this time she did not require my assistance in order to remove her shirt. She pushed me on the bed and started crawling on all four in my direction; wearing nothing but a full bra and a tiny G-string which her fantastic ass seemed to be keen on feasting upon. I wrapped my forearm around her waist, brought her closer to me and sat her on my lap. The feeling of my bulge managed to squeeze an eager moan out of her as she slightly

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dry humped me with impatience; I then slowly pulled down her bra and ran my tongue all over her erected nipples. She pulled on my hair in appreciatio n, then signaled me to lie back… She began running her tongue all over my abdomen and I closed my eyes to take it all in. She then made her way up and started to kiss my neck ; following the undertaking of a journey downward towards the promise land, she made a pit stop in nipple town and decided to acquaint her tongue with my rather sensitive mammary. In the process however, she would accidentally bite me and my initial reaction would be to express my pain out loud. “Ouch girl; take it easy will ya?” She lifted up her head and started formulating a series of apologies as I insisted it was no big deal. She then took off my boxers and started stroking me at a rather fast pace. I let out an uncomfortable laugh and put my hand on hers to slow down her speedy fondling. “That’s it; much better” I said, letting out an appreciative groan. My reaction prompted her to act even more zealous by attempting to take my entire manhood in her mouth. Half way down my shaft, she choked and drenched my cock in saliva… This was quickly turning into a disaster. She clearly lacked experience and I necessarily did not feel highly motivated to play sex teacher that day. I laid back and observed her unfocused attempts at administrating proper fellatio. Suddenly, an age difference that had not previously mattered, now stuck out like a sore thumb. I debated putting a stop to the train wreck but decided that the polite thing to do was to let the poor girl finish what she had started… I took a look around the room while she was busy puppy licking the head on my shaft, in an attempt to remember the last time I had been in the room of a 17 year old girl. There were boy band posters all over the walls and motivational messages on her mirror, written in lip gloss. The scent of vanilla can dles and hair spray gave the room an interestingly fascinating vibe that made me want to stick around longer and take it all in. I started wondering what it would be like if I lived in that room; coming home from school every day to a girlfriend… My eyes suddenly lit up and I felt a feeling that was now becoming pleasantly familiar. That feeling one gets upon the discovery of a potential solution to a problem that had been a burden on their mind. The university was a ten minute walk away from the apartment; if my plan was executed properly, it would mark the end of a month and a half of excruciating car pools with my father, late night coach bus rides and most importantly, it would mean freedom to do what I please at last. Or at least so I thought in that moment…

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I immediately decided to put the first phase of my plan into action. I gently put my hand on her face and she gave me a look that necessitated some urgent positive reinforcement for a job she believed well done. I pulled her towards me and passionately kissed her as I proceeded to lay her on her back. It was time to go to work; if I was going to sell this girl on becoming my significant other, it was going to start here. It was my duty to blow her mind to an unparalleled extent… I gently kissed her forehead as she laid on her back then slowly raised my head to look her straight in the eye. After a few seconds of heart melting, silent eye contact, I gently brushed a string of hair off her face and whispered: “God, you are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen; I feel like I am not worthy of having you in my arms right now”… She instantly blushed and pulled my body towards hers. She then kissed me and started reaching for my manhood in order to position it for penetration… “Nah, not yet pretty girl; I am a man who believes in paying off my debts. And I believe in this case I owe you one” I said, while throwing a quick suggestive smile her way. I started to kiss her neck as she pulled on my hair and bit my earlobe; this sent a shock wave down my spine which in return intensified my already rather larger than life erection. Once on her breasts, I took my time to make sure I evenly distributed all possible pleasure sensations by first running my tongue on her erect nipples, then slowly blowing them dry. This drove her to the edge of madness as the moisture from her bare little tight pussy drenched the bed… By the time my tongue started running circles on her belly button, her clitoris had swollen to the size of a grown man’s baby toe. The latter i njected a dose of confidence in me because there was no hide and go seek tonight once I made my way to the main dish. I started to gently kiss and run my tongue on her inner thighs and the intoxicating scent of vaginal fluids had the sudden effect of ten Viagra pills. I had to put an end to Erica’s misery; the teasing had gone on for too long. I opened her legs wide and placed my head in between her thighs; I then spread open her lips and her cl it emerged with every intention to play. It was dinner time… I started her off by gently sucking on her swollen clit and holding the position for a fraction of a second. This would send a shock through her body that would see her seat up and hold on to my head while begging for more. I then spread her lips further and started doing high speed circles around her pleasure membrane until her entire body erupted into a series of spasms. She arched her back in climax and pushed my head back as the sensitivity of her tasty little clit had now reached humanely unbearable levels. It was my cue to go in…

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I slid up her body until I had reached her soft lips and she instantly laid them on mine and said: “Rob, please fuck me.” I looked her in the eye , let out a faint smile, then turned her around and made her lay on her stomach . I gently pulled on her pelvis and she arched her back while spreading her legs to welcome me. I then gently but imposingly grabbed her by the throat and pulled her head back as I slightly nibbled on her ear from the back and whispered: “Say no more my lady; your wish is my command,” and that is when I penetrated her warm drenched flower… She immediately reached for a nearby pillow in order to mask the loud pleasure sounds she was now emitting. I started her off with slow deep strokes and a few minutes into it, I could see my penis was pioneering in places no cock had been yet. I then sl ightly rose and started intensifying the speed; ten minutes in the process and a few gallons of sweat later, the flood gates would open on to orgasm city as she dug her nails into my palm imploring me to climax with her. I naturally respected her wishes and waited for another wave before exploding in her to the sound of her grateful moans… I collapsed on her back, then pulled out and rolled to the side still trying to catch my breath. She slowly turned around, kissed me with never before seen passion then laid her head on my chest with a pleased look on her face. “That was undoubtedly the best sex I have ever had.” Like any other man on God’s green earth, I lived for the sound of those words; an appreciative kudos for a job well done. I turned my head towards her, kissed her forehead, and said: “There is plenty of it where that came from.” She laughed, kissed my cheek and replied: “Well, I hope you don’t care if I insist on finding out”… Her insatiable appetite quickly led us into a second round that lasted a little over a half hour and ended in yet another common climax that took us both to the edge of unconsciousness. “God Roby, you are a beast” she said, as we both lied in bed breathless. “I could very easily get used to this” I replied, pulling her closer to me as she forged herself a little comfort niche in between my neck and shoulder. “I wouldn’t mind if you did” she said, while kissing my forehead. Phase one had bee n a complete success… She quickly rose from the position she was in, then reached under the bed for a pink shoe box. “Presents? Already? Could I have made Santa’s good list six months ahead of schedule?” She laughed then proceeded to dig deep inside the box. A few seconds later, she cried victory raising a well sized joint that she then lit and passed on to me. I took a few drags then sat up against the bed’s headboard as she laid on my stomach and I ran my fingers through her hair. In the midst of passing

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the joint back to me however, her bedroom door swung open, disabling all my most basic motor skills in the process… I instantly identified the woman in the doorway as the one all picture evidence indicated was her mother. She was petite in size , no taller than 5’1”; yet a detailed study of her Facebook profile had informed me that she was the head of security at the local Walmart. I suddenly wondered if she possessed enough training to make me pay for all the borderline illegal things I had just finishe d doing to her daughter. I waited on her to voice how shocked and appalled she was by the image of her naked daughter in bed with a guy she had never met. But the latter never came…. “Hey Mom; how was work?” casually asked Erica. I quickly threw a shocke d look her way indicating how preposterous I found her question to be in the present situation we were in. Her mother smiled and said: “Work was work as usual; who is this?” she asked, tossing an inquisitive nod my way. “Oh, sorry this is my friend Rob; he goes to Brock.” The end part of that statement brought a smile to her face and she said: “Is that right?”… My new found knowledge had come to me with the ability to read body language with immaculate precision. I immediately saw an opportunity to assume control that I could not miss. Law number 35 urged me to master the art of timing and I had every intention of seizing that moment… Without a word, I gently moved Erica to the side and got off the bed with nothing on but my boxer shorts. I made sure t o hold her mother’s eyes within mine as I walked towards her; I then extended my hand to shake hers and very calmly said: “I’m Roby; pleasure making your acquaintance.” She attempted to disguise an outrageously obvious body scan, and said: “I’m Sheena; nice meeting you.” She then turned towards her daughter and said: “Educated and polite? Well done babe.” All three of us laughed in unison then Erica said: “He fucks like a champ too; total score”… I suddenly felt the feeling in my legs drain through the floor. I had been raised in an African house hold and this sort of Laissez -faire parenting style was completely new to me. By now I deeply understood human behaviour in great detail but I could not master my own in that particular moment. My mind had drifted off to the macabre scenario that would take place if the roles were reversed and it was one of my parents standing in that doorway, when we received instructions to get ready for dinner. That is when we got dressed and made our way to the dining room table.

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Walking through the living room area, I suddenly noticed how dark it had gotten outside. I then turned to Erica and said: “What time is it?” She laughed and said: “It’s 7:30 P.M. Shall we call this a productive afternoon?” I smiled and took a seat beside her as she proceeded to fill my plate with a healthy portion of mashed potatoes. In the middle of an animated conversation with her mother on the subject of unhealthy eating habits amongst today’s youth, the door swung open to her little brother accompanied by Frank and Nikki. He made his way to the table and prior to taking a seat, said: “Who is this? Erica’s new boyfriend?” The room suddenly went silent and everyone turned towards me in an instant. I slowly got up extended my hand across the table to sha ke his and as he grabbed it I said: “I’m Roby; Erica’s aspiring boyfriend. It’s still early in the interview process though. I will however let you know how it goes.” Everyone in the room suddenly exploded in a laugh as Erica held on to my arm, kissed my s houlder and said: “So far, so good. Keep up the great work and you might earn the position”…. That moment I real ized that if I was going to attain my goal, my job responsibilities were not going to be limited to just being Erica’s boyfriend, but the entire family’s significant other. In order to do that, my duty was to now assess the emotional needs of everyone at that table and addressing them in great detail in order to enhance my own value in their eyes therefor making myself indispensable to their well-being and happiness. And I knew exactly where to start. “Alex; I noticed your Xbox down there, got any cool games?” His little blue eyes suddenly lit up and he immediately went on a rumble about every single video game he owned. I immersed myself into the conversation for a good 15 minutes with overwhelming interest. This little boy’s needs were simple and I had figured them out prior to even coming in contact with his sister. He lived in a household full of women; either be his close relatives or her s ister’s friends who came and went as they pleased. The two weekends out of the month he got to see his father, barely fulfilled his dire need for a consistent male figure in his l ife. My job was to fill the remainder of the gap… “I think my little brother really likes you” said Erica, while sensually rubbing my left thigh under the table. I smiled and said: “He is a great kid; I like him too.” We exchanged a quick kiss and suddenly the phone rang; her mother got up from the table to go answer it and returned a few minutes later looking rather livid. “Erica, you missed two classes today; where the fuck were you?” That question wold start a vicious argument between mother and daughter that left me fantasizing about what my life would have been like if I had been brought up in a

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country with actual child services. Up until that day, the concept of arguing with a parental figure was inconceivable in my mind… I waited for a slight appeasement of what seemed like never ending hostilities then said: “I think I’m gonna go now. It’s late.” The sound of my words earned her mother a homicidal stare from Erica and she said: “Thanks Mom, now the guy I like thinks we are a bunch of fucking psychos.” She then got off the table and ran for her room. I turned towards her mother and gave her a faint smile and said: “If it is any consolation, I am not leaving because I think you guys are a bunch of psychos. I just have to catch the 9:00P.M Greyhound back to Fort Erie plus I have an early morning class. I however had a lovely time. Thank you for dinner Mrs. Kleer” Her body language immediately indicated that my selectively honest comment had touched a soft spot. She put her hand on mine and said: “You are such a nice young man Rob; why can’t she be as polite as you are?” My he art instantly skipped a beat following the mind processing of that statement. She had just handed me her hot button. A sure way in that I now had every single intention of exploiting. I excused myself from the table and bid farewell to everyone around in t hat moment, grabbed my book bag that was seating in the corner and made my way out; purposely omitting to say goodnight to Erica… Fifteen minutes later, I was on the bus headed home when I checked my cell phone to find twenty two missed calls and a few d isgruntled text messages from Erica. “Why the fuck would you leave without saying bye? Is it all that shit you seen with my mom and what not?” That message brought a smirk to my face as I sat in a dark corner of the bus. I went to respond to it in order to reassure her but suddenly stopped half way through expressing how fantastic of an evening I had had. It is a universal rule that women like what they cannot have; plus my code clearly dictated under Law 16 that it was my responsibility to use absence in o rder to enhance respect and affinity. I shut off my phone, laid my head to the side and drifted off to sleep with a smile on my face at the thought of this bus ride being one of the final ones I would ever have to take this late in the night… I carried on with the complete radio silence between Erica and I for a little over two weeks. Time being a key factor in the situation, I had to make absolutely sure that every move was timed with godly precision in order to ensure success. I had witnessed her go through multiple emotional stages, from denial to anger and finally acceptance without saying a single word to her. Once the two weeks mark came around, it was now time to re-initiate contact and I had the perfect plan to do so…

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Being in her last year of High school, I knew she was done class at 3:00P.M. She had informed me that she took public transit bus to and from school, so I made my way to the bus station and waited for her. Two chapters into my newly acquired copy of Machiavelli’s the prince, the stati on’s doors swung open and I noticed her walking in through my peripherals. I calmly turned a page in my book and waited on her to notice me. A few seconds into what seemed like a mundane conversation between her and a girl that looked like she collected Po kémon cards, she finally noticed me in the corner where I was sitting and began making her way towards me… “Hey stranger,” she said in a timid tone. This shy approach was the initial indicator of how well my plan was working. If this interaction had taken place any earlier in the proceedings, it could have easily been the catalyst of a scene in the middle of the bus station. But the fact that I had waited for her to come to peace with the notion that she might have lost me due to unexplained reasons, now put her in a position where she had no choice but be on her best behaviour, if she ever wanted answers as to what exactly was going on… “Erica; Hi!” I said, letting out a faint smile as I put my book in the back pack I then had on. “How have you been? I haven’t heard from you in weeks now” she said, on the verge of crying her way through the final stages of that sentence. It was now time to put phase two into execution. I got up from the bench I was sitting on and made my way closer to her. I looked her i n the eye, pulled her closer to me and hugged her tight. She let out a relieved smile and a few tears streamed down her cheek and onto my shirt. “I owe you the truth”… As soon as those words resonated in her mind, she wiped the tears off her face and said: “I’m listening.” I pulled her to the side, away from curious ears and that is when I began. “Honestly babe, the only reason why I couldn’t find it within me to call you back, is because I’m scared” I said, while sl iding a string of her hair behind her ear. “Scared? Of what Rob?” she asked, seeming more confused than ever… “ I am scared of the fact that I am quickly falling for you but this might not be going anywhere.” A flow of tears immediately ran down her face as she attempted to refrain herself from shrieking out loud. “What could possibly make you think such a thing knowing exactly how I feel about you?” Seeing her in such a vulnerable state, even though it was exactly what I had been working towards, couldn’t help but sl ightly make me doubt my own motives. I hesitated going forward but told myself that it was too late; I had to carry on for the greater good…

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“Babe look; I just think you and I have different priorities in l ife right now. I am looking for a girl who is as focused on school as I am. S o I can feel like this is just not a teenage fling but an actual relationship where both parties are working towards a common goal.” She quickly interrupted me mid-sentence and began going on a rumble about how she understood how I felt and would do anythi ng to remediate to the situation if I could just give her a chance to redeem herself. “Rob; just please allow me to show you that I can change.” I took a few strategic seconds of silence then began again… “There is one more thing” I said, while purposely breaking eye contact and looking to the side. She gently grabbed on to my face and turned my head towards her and said: “Anything; just name it and I will do it.” I found her strong resolve to abide by every single one of my wishes rather boner inducing. T he feeling that came with the ability of steering people’s thoughts and actions in whichever direction I pleased was quickly turning into an addiction… “I come from a background where your parents are considered to be the messenger that God put on this earth to guide you. As a result , we treat them with an infinite amount of respect and admiration. No matter how wrong they might be sometimes. I look for those same values in a woman that I can call mine.” She gave me a look that indicated that these were de finitely the last words she had expected to hear out of me then said: “That shit that you saw with my mom doesn’t happen all the time babe. I love and respect her. We do argue sometimes and I step out of line but I promise It won’t happen again.” I quickly real ized that she was now saying anything she thought I wanted to hear. My plan was working to perfection; it was now time to put the final touches in effect. “Erica look; I don’t want you to feel l ike you have to change who you are just to be with me. It ’s not fair to you and I would hate to see you unhappy just because I want to be with you.” The final part of my sentence brought a hopeful smile to her face and she said: “Being with you is what would make me happy. Anything else is irrelevant.” I took ye t another strategic moment of silence, followed by a wide a smile, then put my hand on her cheek and wiped off a stream of tears with my thumb as I went in for a long kiss taking her breath away in the process… The weeks that would follow our little bus station encounter which she believed to be random, would be marked by the label ing of our relationship. For the first time in almost five years now, I again held the title of someone’s boyfriend. This was going to require some serious getting used to due to the fact that every time I gave the situation some thought, I couldn’t help but reminisce on

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quite an unpleasant past experience which had left me in quite considerable emotional distress. “You know what you are doing” I kept telling myself, over and over again for reassurance purposes. My theory would later reveal its own f Laws… I was now spending a little over four nights out of the week at Erica’s. Being a boyfriend came with benefits I was now quickly getting used to. It was like living with my parents but instead of chores, I just earned my stay by being pleasant and making love to my girlfriend. In my mind at the time, l ife could not have turned out any better. Little I knew however, better was about to turn into nothing short of great… Being home only on weekends was quickly turning into a source of hostility with my parents. Questions regarding my comings and goings during the week were no longer being satisfied by the generic explanation of myself staying with a friend who lived close to the school in order to facilitate going to class in the morning; they were now demanding detailed answers. “We want to meet that friend of yours,” said my father one Saturday evening after hours on end of a heated debate about my new now frowned upon living arrang ements… The latter however, was completely out of the question. The idea of their beloved eldest son living in a 17 year old girl’s bedroom in her mother’s apartment was absolutely unconceivable in their eyes. They had worked way too hard and sacrificed way too much to see their son turn into a professional boyfriend. I was now put in a position where I had to rush through the final phases of my plan, if I didn’t want to spend my weekends in a homeless shelter. My parents had just given me a week deadline in order to put an end to the shenanigans or my other option would be to move all my belongings on the street… Lady opportunity would come knocking one fateful evening following Erica’s and I daily afternoon sexathon. We made our way to the dinner table a nd were greeted by her mother’s overjoyed smile. We sat down and as soon as we did so, she began: “Your report card came in today Erica; three A’s and 2 B’s. I’m proud of you sweetie.” They proceeded to exchanging hugs while I jumped up and down in my own mind. Law number 33 of my code had outlined the benefits of finding one’s thumbscrew; I had managed to find her mother’s the first night we met and my efforts of working it had just finally paid off… “If it wasn’t for Rob kicking my ass out of bed every morning to go to school, I don’t think I could have done this. Thanks babe,” she then kissed my cheek and got up from the table and headed on a search mission in her room to find tape and hang her report card on the fridge. I then turned towards her mother, smiled and jokingly said: “They grow up so fast don’t they Mrs. Kleer?” She laughed then said: 117

“When are you going to start calling me Sheena? I’m only Mrs. Kleer on paper.” Her attempt at removing all formalities out of the equation were strong indicators of how comfortable she was with me now. It was time to put the final stage of my plan into execution mode… “Rob, I really want to say thank you. I noticed how positively Erica has changed since you came in her life. Her school work is better and our relationship has dramatically improved overnight. If there is anything I can do to show my appreciation, just name it and it’s done” she said, putting her hand on top of mine. “I am in love with your daughter Sheena, and I want nothing more than to see her maximizing her full potential. It’s my duty as her loving boyfriend to steer her on the right path.” Her pupils dilated with joy and she grabbed on to my hand even firmer. “You are an absolute sweetheart; where have you been this entire time?” she said, in the outmost grateful tone. I couldn’t help but laugh out loud and said: “All great things happen only when the time is right.” My words of wisdom led the conversation onto how my own school work was going and that is when I decided to go in for the kil l. “I actually have a humongous favor to ask of you Sheena,” I said following a lockdown of her eyes within mine. “Anything; just name it.” I smiled then went on to tell her about my current financial situation and how I could not receive any financial aid from the school prior to receiving my new social insurance number. She listened without interruption as I went on explaining to her how big of a toll the almost 2 hours travel time had taken on my school work… “I was wondering if you wouldn’t mind me moving in while the process is still underway and I could financially help out upon receipt of my school loan of course.” She suddenly had a rel ieved look on her face probably due to the fact that she had initially thought I was in the process of asking her for money. “Absolutely; you are family now.” It was now my turn to spot a relieved look on my face. A month long worth of diligent work had finally paid off. I thanked her and proceeded to excusing myself from the table under the pretense that I had to go announce the great news to Erica… The following weekend, I would move all that I called mine from my parent’s house and into Erica’s bedroom. The tension during the proceedings was almost palpable. I knew in order for this entire operation to work out, I had to give my parents enough information about my new living arrangements to prevent them from going around snooping and finding out way more than I would have wanted them to. “Dad, I am moving in with a girl. She is my girlfriend.” For an instant , I thought my mother was about to reach for her holly water in order to cleanse me

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from the demon she was sure had now taken possession of my gentle soul. My parents then took turns expressing in great details how much of an outrageous disappointment I had turned out to be in their eyes and how they now regretted every sacrifice they had made on my behalf for the last 19 years… Their reaction turned out to be everything I had expected it to be. But I knew with time, they would come to peace with my decision. The y had very little choice; I was their only son. I put an end to their heated complaints u sing the excuse of my ride being outside waiting for me, and proceeded to load my friend Jhonny’s car with my belongings. I had convinced him to help me move in exchan ge of setting him up with one of Erica’s friend that went by the name of Lisa and happened to be the beholder of an ass so round we often attempted to sit red bull cans on it… Half way through our way back from Fort Erie to St. Catharine’s, my phone rang and I did not recognise the number on my caller I.D. I ignored the call but when that same number called a few seconds later, I got worried and picked it up. “Yes, Hello?” An enthusiastic voice on the other end of the line quickly answered and sent my heart into shock upon identifying itself. “Robert, Its Jim Kleer. Erica’s father”... Jim and Sheena had met about a year prior to Erica’s birth. They had quickly fallen in love and had decided to eventually get married. Jim however had not taken in consideration the fact that Erica’s grandmother who had appointed herself to the position of sole ruler of all family affairs, frowned upon this union she found rushed an unreasonable. They decided to elope and get married in Vegas. A few years following Alex’s birth however, the marriage had hit turbulence. Jim found refuge from his dying marriage in substance abuse , that is when both parties then decided to undertake a trial separation for the good of the kids… The latter went on for a little over a year until J im fell in love with a woman by the name of Genie and decided to file for divorce. Sheena then bitter about the sudden turn of events, refused to grant him the divorce. This would later turn into a 10 year long custody battle that saw Jim on the verge of a financial meltdown. He would lose due to the fact that he could no longer afford legal counsel and as a result would see himself forced to pay outrageous amounts in child support and alimony; leaving Sheena as the all-time beholder of the number one spot on his hit list… I knew it was only a matter of time until Jim and I came face to face. After all I was tying his 17 year old daughter’s hands on her headboard on an almost daily basis while doing things to her I am sure he would not have approved of . Bu t like anything else in my life, I had thought that it was going to be on my own terms. I 119

am not a big fan of surprises and this one definitely did not feel like the ones you get on your birthday. It was now going to require me to improvise which went against Law number 29 of my code; which dictated that I had to plan all the way to the end… “Yes Mr. Kleer; how are you today?” I asked, trying to hide the fact that I was forcing air down my lungs. He laughed at my show of respect then said: “Call me Jim; I heard you are the man behind my daughter’s academic turn around.” I fake laughed at his compl iment then said: “That would be wrong Jim; your daughter is extremely smart. I just happened to be around when she decided to apply herself.” My humility was greeted by a warm laugh and he said: “Listen, Genie and I would love to have you guys over for dinner tomorrow night. Are you free then?” I debated calling my family doctor and making arrangements for an emergency colonoscopy in order to buy myself some time but realized that the latter couldn’t be possible on a Sunday night... “Yea sure; I would love to meet the both of you guys” I replied, with every word leaving razor blade marks on my uvula as they left my mouth. “Fantastic; I will make all the arrangements with Erica. See you tomorrow night.” We then exchanged good byes and I hung up the phone… I spent the rest of the day organizing my belongings in my new habitat with Erica’s help... “So my dad is unusually excited to meet you” she said, while folding and putting away pairs of underwear. “Unusually?” I asked, rather perplexed by her choice of words. “Yea, he has always declined meeting any of my previous boyfriends until you. It’s kind of unusual if you ask me.” My heart rate suddenly hit an all-time low. I started asking myself what could possibly have been the motivating factor behind Jim’s newly found interest in his only daughter’s dating patterns. “Could the main course at this dinner be a full can of whoop ass that Jim intended to open on me?” I be gan debating… The following evening, Erica, Alex and I would make our way to their father’s house late in the afternoon to find him and Genie sitting on the edge of the pool, sipping on some exotic drinks. Jim’s small build came as an immediate relief due to the fact that in case of a physical altercation motivated by the defence of his daughter’s purity, despite the motivational factor being on his side, my chances of walking out of it al ive were now slightly enhanced by his small size. Following all formal introductions, we walked into the house and I immediately started looking around for rapport builders. If Jim and I were going to become friends, I had to find something in common with him, other than the fact that I was the black guy defiling his 17 year old daughter on a constant basis…

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As if God had heard my prayers, once in the living room, I took a look at the wall to notice a gigantic Washington Redskins banner. Having l ived in Alexandria Virginia, which is right outside of Washington D.C. I kne w enough about the Redskins from my trips to the barbershop to be able to hold a decent conversation. “A bit of a Redskins fan are we Mr. Kleer?” I said, throwing a friendly smile his way. His jaw dropped at the possibil ity of engaging into a macho footbal l conversation and he said: “The big burgundy and gold ‘till I die baby. How about you? What’s your team?” he asked, making his way towards me. “Well I pretty much grew up in Alexandria Virginia, which is about a 25 minutes car ride away from FedEx field. You seem like a wise man; I will let you do the math,” I replied, winking and smiling at him in the process… The face he made at that moment reminded me of my own, Christmas morning of 1998 when I unwrapped the G.I Joe kit I had begged for for a little o ver six months. Suddenly, it was as if I was the second coming of the Christ. He instructed Genie to grab me a beer from the fridge as we sat and I faked hanging on to every single word of complaint he had about the season. I would throw him the few random facts I had gathered over the years from other interactions on the subject in an organized sequence, making myself seem like the expert I had never been. By the time Genie summoned us for dinner, Jim was ready to file the adoption papers… The dinner table conversation subjects shifted from football to stories of Erica as a child and even the occasional politics. I started thinking to myself that I might have assumed the worst out of this situation for no apparent reason. I was however soon to find out why my initial subconscious effort had been to keep my guard up. Once dinner was done, Jim and I retired to his den where he proceeded to walk me through his Redskins memorabilia with the subtle flair of a museum tour guide. When he was through, he walked up to a nearby cabinet and brought out a bottle of brandy with two glasses in his other hand… He poured us both a respectable portion then said: “So let me ask you something Rob.” My stomach sl ightly knotted at the sound of those words but I managed to keep my composure and attempted to formulate a coherent response to his request. “Ask away Jim; what’s going on?” He poured some more Brandy in his glass then said: “What’s it like to live with that witch of Sheena these days?”… Suddenly, the idea behind this whole entire exercise came to light. Jim had not invited me over because he had heard of my outstanding conversational skills or the fact that I was his daughter’s boyfriend; Jim’s intentions all along were to gain an ally inside Sheena’s camp. If he could prove to the court that she was using the child support money in an unspecified manner, he had a case against her in order

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to relieve him of this daunting parental task. I was now the bridge between him and freedom… “C’mon Mr. K. you know a gentleman does not kiss and tell, don’t you?” I replied, while taking a sip out of the content in my glass. Jim graced my statement with a constipated laugh then said: “ Scruples are an admirable quality within a young man,” in a tone I could not help but find a tad b it condescending. I could see the vivid urge to carry on with his questioning within his eyes; but somehow he could not figure out how to, without crossing a line he was yet to establish exactly how fine it was… It was going to take a little more than a c heap brandy to have me spill the beans I kept telling myself. But suddenly, my train of thoughts quickly drifted back to my code. Law 19 outlined the importance of not offending the wrong people. Knowing who you are dealing with in the world of the fast an d the cunning is a key asset for survival. Completely shunning Jim on the matter was definitely not the wisest route to undertake; an ally like him on my side was priceless. I had to give him just enough to keep him on his toes, while doing all I could to avoid any form of hearsay related drama with his soon to be ex-wife… “You Sir on the other hand must be quite the cocksmith” I said, while adjusting the position of my body to fully face him. He seemed rather shocked by my language, which I hoped he had originally found offensive. If I was going to give him any sort of information on his ex-wife, I wanted him to subconsciously understand that our relationship would change accordingly, and the vulgar language was just the beginning of a long and interesting layer removal process. “Excuse me?” he repl ied, looking slightly appalled but yet curious… “A cocksmith, good in the sack, a great lay, give good dick” I replied; attempting to sound as shocking as the English language could possibly allow at the time. Jim thrown completely off balance, yet curious about my new rather abhorrent attitude, managed to squeeze a few words of inquiry out of his mouth. “what makes you think that?” he asked, having a hard time concealing the smirk my rather unorthodox compliment had brought upon his face. “Well look around you Jim,” I began. “You seem to have adjusted fairly well over the years to your separation. Great home, great girlfriend, promising career, kids who adore you, and so on and so forth.” Jim was heavily blushin g right then as I continued with my explanation. “While on the other hand, your ex-wife is piling failed relationships with dead beat boyfriends and attempting to c Law her way out of a dead end career. If you ask me it all comes down to good dick deficienc y. She is

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attempting to recreate what you two had in the past with no success. While you are flourishing every day”… He let out an explosive laugh at the end of my sentence which I was sure everyone else in the house had heard. “I l ike you Rob; you have a way of seeing things. You are a very smart kid.” His flattering words appeased my quickly rising heart rate. I had just managed to abide by Law number 20 of my code which advised against committing to anyone by giving him just enough to steer my way clear of a situation that could have required me to pick sides; instead of feeding his curiosity, I had fed his ego and for now it had been enough… I was in the middle of sharing a rather misogynist theory on how women’s well-being is often dependent on our validation with a man whose hatred for his ex-wife had blinded him from the fact that the man speaking to him was his own daughter’s boyfriend, when Erica walked in the room and immediately begun inquiring about what we were talking about. “Are you boys up t o no good?” she asked, as she took a seat on my lap and wrapped her arms around my neck… “I was actually expressing to your boyfriend, how smart I think he is. Where did you find this kid?” asked a rather strongly inebriated Jim. Erica sl ightly blushed, kissed my forehead and said: “You could say I am lucky I guess.” Jim insisted on testing the limits on my flattery meter a little more before we excused ourselves and begun to head home. Upon shutting the car door, I exhaled deeply; appealing to Jim had been my last step on the journey to conquer the minds of every single one of Erica’s relatives that actually mattered. Or so I thought; I had missed just one… I was in; I had infiltrated the system and now all my worry days were behind me. However I knew it was a matter of time before my dark side had to be fed. My situation had changed a lot since I was now in an apparently committed relationship and happened to live with my significant other. I was yet to orchestrate any infidelities but was often faced wit h temptation to do so… Erica kept a very close relationship with some of her female friends. Her mother’s Laissez-faire parenting style had turned the family apartment into a teenage version of chuckie cheese, where everyone congregated and did whatever they pleased. As a result, temptation was always around me; even though Law number 36 of my code dictated that I had to disdain things I could not have, not succumbing to tantal ization was revealing itself to be a more and more daunting task every single day…

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My first dealings with extreme enticement would occur on a cold November afternoon. I finished class early that day, and after an hour and a half of qual ity time in the gym, I decided to head home and take a shower. Thirty five minutes of deep cleansing later, I wrapped a towel around my waist and walked out of the bathroom. I had not reached the door of our bedroom when two soft knocks on the front door caught my attention. Being the only one home, as I was supposed to be at that time of the day, I had no choice but to check who was this unexpected visitor. I opened the door to find Nikki on the other side, in a green blouse that left very little to the imagination; at least as far as her bosom was concerned… “Nikki, whatsup? No school today or what?” I asked, showing her inside. As she walked in, she began giving me an explanation on how she had woken up late that morning and had decided to call it a day off. She asked if I had an extra cigarette; I put two in my mouth and lit them both with the same f lame and handed her one. As I did so, I couldn’t help but notice her fascination with my bare wet chest. The voice of reason within instructed me to go put on a T-shirt, but was quickly silenced by my sense of curiosity which would not allow me to move my feet off the ground. “Wow, someone is very happy to see me aren’t they?” she said, pointing at my towel… I looked down to find a rigid mound standing strong under my towel. “He is got a mind of his own this one. Give me a second, I am trying to picture my naked grandmother here. Should not take too long” I replied, trying to use humor in order to diffuse a situation that was getting more and more awkward with every second that went by. Nikki found my attempt to melt my ever strengthening erection rather amusing as she exploded in a series of chuckles and said: “I say we let him roam free; he seems big enough of a boy to take care of himself.” She then took a step in my direction, firmly grabbed on to my fuckpole and locked her lips upon mine; she tasted like raspberry lipstick and cigarettes. “Do you know how many nights I’ve lied in my bed wishing this thing was up my snatch and not Erica’s?” she asked, as she kept on gently stroking my moist love muscle to the edge of ecstasy. “I would love for you to tel l me but if you did your wish would not come true. And reading by your body language as we speak, it could possibly devastate you” I replied, in between gentle kiss exchanges… She again let out a series of chortles, then slowly slid down into a position t hat saw her very up-close and personal with the not so little man downstairs. She puckered her lip around the nob and began to very gently run the edge of her tongue up and down the orifice on my cock. The feeling in my legs immediately left my body and I found myself scanning the room for a place to sit down…

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I had just settled for nearby Lazy boy recliner chair as the set for my felatio séance, when I heard the one sound that could possibly not have resonated at a worse moment than the one I was in righ t then. I suddenly looked up and focused my entire energy towards the front door. The sound began again; following a slightly confused sounding shuffling of keys, one was inserted in the door and it was as if I had just had a border l ine fetal dose of adre naline shot down my neck with a ten millimeter syringe needle…

In a fraction of a second that seemed way too long, I managed to push off a clueless Nikki and got up from the chair. The moment I went to reach for the towel I had on, which was now laying a few feet away, I saw the nob on the door turn and I immediately ran for the bathroom. In my hurry, I accidentally knocked over an almost overflowing ashtray but could not dare to look behind. I couldn't help but laugh the instant I caught sight of my nake d startled self in the bathroom mirror. I then put my ear against the door and attempted to listen in to the faint flow of conversation that was now coming from the l iving room… It was a female voice; but the distance from the bathroom to the living roo m could not allow me to distinguish who it belonged to. “Great fucking doors” I said to myself, as I looked around the bathroom hoping for a genie with a solution to twirl out of the toilet bowl. Suddenly, my sight was caught by my watch which was sitting on the edge of the sink. I grabbed it and threw a nonchalant look at it still seeming puzzled; and that's when it hit me . Something in this whole entire picture did not belong. My watch red 2:30 P.M… Living in someone else’s home entirely cost free is a s cience, and the mother of science is precision. To put it in perspective, it’s like having an extra grown child in your home overnight. And that child happens to be black and frequently engages in sexual activity with another one of your offspring. A delic ate situation as it may seem, but if properly managed can yield quite the glory days. Law number 35 of my code emphasized on the art of timing; knowing everyone’s schedule was a must. It allows one to roll with the flow of the home. So on all aspects one of the first things I had done following the move in , was to decipher through everyone’s day planner to the smallest detail… Erica finished her last class of the day at 3:00 P.M , so if my watch was right as I stood there, she was reading Macbeth out loud t o a class full of hungry teenagers. So that automatically excluded her from my l ist of potential females behind the bathroom door. Left was her mother; Sheena. But even then it made no sense… 125

Sheena was by now rolling into her seventh year as the head of security for the local St.Catharines Walmart; a job she had a great time doing. I had once been the witness of a rather acrobatic incarceration of a homeless man who had stolen a bike from a backyard in a neighborhood nearby and had decided to soak in the last few warm fall sunrays by riding around in the Walmart parking lot in nothing but his trench coat. She was built Ford tough , with a body worthy of a white marble statue, as well as a biker chick attitude that often made me fantasize about her on the wheels of my little Vespa below the belt to sweeten the deal. She religiously left for work at 8:00A.M. every morning, came home for lunch at 1:30 and was back to work for 2:00P.M to finish at 5:30 P.M… Meaning whoever was behind that door, regardless of th e fact that they had a key, was not Sheena either. The possibil ity of Alex having been ruled out prior to any other, I was left wondering who else had privileged access to the apartment and the motive behind their early afternoon visit. That is when the ex tent of my painful reality appeared to me in an excruciating realization… Whoever was behind that door had expressly came looking for me; and I had left Nikki to their mercy… Whoever she was, she had probably walked in when the poor thing was still in an awkward position. Barely off her knees with pre -cum on her breath, she had had to engage into a probably mortifying conversation about the tipped ashtray and her rather legere outfit in such a compromising position. I had to salvage whatever was left of this rather displeasing scenario. Law number 28 of my code dictated that I had to enter action with boldness; I wrapped another towel around my waist and opened the bathroom door… Walking along the respectably long corridor that separated the bedroom and bathroom area from the living and dining room, my heart made several runs for my throat. I had no idea who was in the living room talking to Nikki; I debated making a run for the room and at least grab a T-shirt before initiating contact. But as I took a step to do so, I was suddenly paralyzed by the look of a woman who I felt still had a rather hard time coming to peace with my now undoubtedly permanent presence… Erica’s grandmother went by the name of Muira. She was in her early 80’s but decades of smoking made her look a hundred and two. She belonged to the very elite team of the few who can claim they have survived lung cancer; twice. Despite several lung surgeries, she was as gracious on her feet as any 40 year old woman. The reason behind her slight distaste of me had come following an incident that saw me referring to her father, who I had just met for the first time and who in all

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perspective looked younger than her, as her new love interest. A comment that I had originally thought had only been for Er ica’s ears one evening following the customary Sunday family dinner… Since that day, she had had it in for me and was ready to climb Mount Everest to see me gone. She had often petitioned to Erica and her mother, to re -evaluate our relationship; I often reassured myself by insisting on the fact that there was no chance on God’s green earth that I was going to provide her with a motive to proceed as she wished. Turns out I was dead wrong right in that moment… “Grandma!!! What an unexpected but nonetheless pleasant surprise. Is everything ok?” I asked, doing my best to conceal a look of total shock and awe that had long been betrayed by my initial reaction upon first seeing her. She did not even bother acknowledging my gesture of selective friendship, and mo ved on straight to business. “This house is a mess” she said, throwing a quick disdainful scan around the apartment. The cold gaze of her piercing blue eyes through her tiny lowered glasses felt like a surprise epidural through my spine. It suddenly seemed as if we were passed the damage control phase of things… “Oh yes, I accidentally knocked over the ashtray earlier on when I was going in the shower. Nothing a good old broom can’t fix however; I will get right to it as soon as I toss a shirt on” I replied, with a widening smile on my face. As soon as the last words in that statement left the edge of my lips however, my peripheral view was caught by an alarmed Nikki who had just put her hands over her face. I immediately knew something had just went very wrong… Muira’s face was suddenly the host of a mischievous and calculating smirk. She took a few steps in my direction and very slowly extended her arm while maintaining some very terrorizing eye contact with me. She then gently laid the back of her hand on my bare chest as I stood there on the edge of paralysis, not exactly knowing what the goal of this whole entire exercise was. “How long ago did you get out of the shower?” she asked, in a very inquisitive tone. For the first time in what had now been a long time, I was genuinely afraid of another human being… “Well as you can see by my attire,” I said pointing at the towel I had on, “I clearly just got out of the shower.” The fear within my eyes was unmistakable at this point and she was feeding on it l ike an attack dog. “May I ask the reason behind all these questions though Grandma?” She took a few seconds that were marked by yet another disdainful body scan then said: “Well, you have already l ied to me once within the last few seconds we have been st anding here. I can’t help

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but be under the impression that you are hiding something” she replied, closely observing the effects of her statement on my body language… “Excuse me?” I replied, in true guilty man fashion. “Well the both of you seem to be very confused about who exactly knocked over the ashtray for one; because Missy over here also claims she did,” said Muira , pointing an accusatory wrinkly finger at Nikki. “Second, according to your body temperature, you did not just get out of the shower. So I’m going to ask only once; what were you two doing in here with the door locked?” Lack of a better term, I was busted. Regardless of our differences however, I highly admired Muira’s resolve. Even on the dusk of her glory days, her sense of deduction was still cutting edge. Erica was going to walk in any minute and her grandmother would enlighten her on her theory, putting an end to a run I had not foreseen ending that day two hours prior. I could not allow that to happen; I had worked way too hard to get where I was and was not willing to go down without a fight. I needed to buy some time; in other words I had to see Muira out of the apartment before Erica came in, if I had a remote chance of surviving this scandal… Seeing the fact that politely asking her to leave was not listed in my available options column, I decided to opt for the second best bet. Shock her to a level that would require her to take leave and return when she bel ieved in the presence of friendly ears to her accusations. I decided to p ull the only sweet card that God has dealt every man and woman of color at birth; the race card… “Ok, I think I see where this is going” I said, now taking a few steps in her direction. “I’m going to stop you right there Muira;” it was the first time I had called her by her first name since the day I had met her. She appeared shocked by the latter but maintained her composure. “ I am well aware of the fact that you don’t like me very much. I am not sure if it’s based on my character because if all my recollections do not fail me, I have been nothing but pleasant towards you. So all logic points to my race” I said, making sure to emphasize my pause at the end of the statement in order to make her understand the magnitude of where this was headed… Her face slowly started turning purple and for an instant I thought she was going to vomit on the carpet. “Don’t you dare” she stuttered, in an angry Scottish accent. She then went on for about a good minute about how disgusted and appalled she was by my allegations. Then suddenly, she noticed the silent menacing look on my face, came to an immediate halt and said: “This is not over; you hear

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me?” then quickly opened and slammed the door on her way out. I then turned towards Nikki and instructed her to leave immediatel y… After locking the door behind Nikki, I ran to the room and quickly put some clothes on. I needed to come up with a plan of action within the next few minutes or I was most likely going to be homeless that night; I had no money to go back to my parents’ in Fort Erie and the idea of calling upon my father to come pick myself and my belongings up, felt like walking the green mile. Then suddenly it hit me. If it was going to be my word against Muira’s, I had one weapon in my arsenal that she could not take away from me; her granddaughter’s emotions. My only way out was to play on those… Upon my epiphany, I immediately sprung off the bed and reached for my suit case on top of the closet. I sat it on the bed, opened up a few drawers that contained some of my affairs, and threw a large number of them on the bed. I then sat and waited for Erica to come home. Five minutes later, I was alerted of her arrival by the now terrifying sound of keys entering the hole in the door. I then got up, and begun to emotionally fold my clothes while tossing them in the suit case… A few seconds later, the bedroom door swung open to reveal Erica in a black cashmere sweater that very gracefully complimented the outline of her maturing breasts. I turned my head to look at her and o ne look at my facial expression, she immediately knew something was wrong. The smile on her face was quickly replaced by a very fearfully inquisitive facial expression. “What are you doing?” she asked, scanning the room for answers… “I am leaving” I replied in an emotionless tone, while still folding my clothes and putting them in the suit case. “What the fuck; Why?” she asked, on the verge of tears. She then took a few steps closer to me, and shut the flap on my suitcase. “Tell me what the fuck is going on right now.” I took a step back, sat on the bed and lit a cigarette. “It has nothing to do with us; I just can’t take the scrutiny from your grandmother anymore” I replied, while grabbing her hand and sitting her by my side. She looked as if she had just walked into an episode of the twilight zone. “What are you talking about Rob? What happened?” she asked, while rubbing the back of my head affectionately. I let out a sigh then said: “Nikki came in earlier asking for a cigarette; a few moments later your grandma waltzed in and started making accusations concerning her and I being in the apartment alone.” I then stopped and took a drag of my cigarette…

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Her hand that had now been rubbing my back stopped frozen half way down my spine at the sound of my words. Her mouth, now hung slightly opened as she sat there and envisioned the morbid scenario of her best friend and I in the midst of a heated sexual act. “Please tell me that you guys are not fucking” she said, in an imploring tone… I put out my cigarette and turned towards her; I then held her hand, slightly squeezed it and said: “I want you to honestly look at our relationship and where we stand right now and give me a single reason why I would do such a thing to you. And if you can find one I promise I w ill leave immediately.” Before that moment in time, I had never witnessed anyone try so hard to hold in a menacing flow of tears. Her hand that now lied damp in between both of mine, was shaking uncontrollably. I could see her unsuccessful attempts at formulating a sentence but whenever the delivery portion came in play, the words just refused to come out of her mouth. I made eye contact with her and slowly leaned in for a kiss. As soon as our lips coll ided in a passionate moment, I felt a warm stream of tears she had tried so hard to conceal, unleash from the depth of her soul and onto her face, consequently rubbing off on mine. Then as if my kiss had just delivered her from a mute prison, she put her hands on my face and said: “Don’t leave me okay? I love you”… This was the first time in almost five years, that I had heard those few little words out of the mouth of a woman that was not my mother. Erica had been nothing short of a fantastic girlfriend, but I knew within me that no matter how much I cared about her, I certainly did not feel as strongly as she felt in that moment. A loud and confusing internal debate suddenly erupted in my mind, and I kept asking myself how long I could possibly carry on before this girl got hurt. I then suddenly noticed the impatient look on her face that was urging me to provide an immediate response. I was now backed into a corner… All my troubles from earlier during the day could have easily ended right then and there if I could find it within me to fake those few innoc ent little words. It would send her on a high and nothing her grandmother could have said would have brought her down from it. But the little human side of me that I still had left just refused to grant me the strength to carry on to such a level of deceit . Suddenly, she broke the silence that seemed like it had lasted forever. " You don`t have to say it you know; it’s ok." In any other situation I would have jumped at the opportunity of such a bailout. But in this scenario, I could smell the reverse psyc hology hundreds of miles away; I had to immediately defuse the situation. I reached for her hand and gently

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placed it in between both of mine and said: “Babe, trust me; it’s not that I can’t say it. I’m just scared because the last girl I said those words to, I ended up losing her to another man. And I would die if I ever lost you.” She immediately started tearing up as she placed her free hand on top of mine and gently kissed my knuckles. “I would never do anything to hurt you, you know that right?” she said, barely able to breathe in between sobs. Those few words brought me a great sense of rel ief in that moment; I was partially out of troubled waters. That touchy moment had now solidified my stronghold on Erica, simultaneously ensuring a powerful ally the moment big bad Muira would return to finish what she had started… “And this whole thing with my grandma, it just sounds like another one of her days where she feels l ike she has to run everyone’s life. Please, just let me take care of it” she said, as she gently placed her palm onto my right cheek and affectionately caressed a scar I had been carrying on my face for as far as memory permits me to remember. “Babe, I just don’t want to feel like I’m making you almost choose between your family and I” I s aid, while letting go of her hand and reaching for my pack of cigarettes. She immediately began a new series of reassurances; she however had not finished expressing to me how often I crossed her mind on an hourly basis, when the phone suddenly rang. One look at the caller I.D had me immediately feeling nauseous. “It’s Grandma” said Erica , in a disdainful tone. “Let me end this, I will be right back.”

She then got up off the bed and made her way towards the bathroom; as she was about to shut the door, she answered the phone with a rather unwelcoming Hello. As the door shut however, all sounds of conversation vanished as if she had just walked into a soundproof recording booth. I imm ediately made a mental note to start having sex in the bathroom alot more often... I then laid back on the bed and lit another cigarette; wondering what direction the conversation between Erica and her grandmother had taken. "What if Muira managed to deliver such a compelling tale of her side of the story that Erica had made a c omplete 360?" I asked myself, following a long drag of my King size Belmont... I imagined her storming out of the bathroom and kicking down the bedroom door as she instructed me to continue packing my belongings and vacat e her l iving space. I imagined having to virtually crawl at my father's feet imploring him to take me and my broke behind back in because the girl I had just spent the last six months playing games with had finally caught on to my shenanigans. I then suddenly thought to myself that it was highly unlikely that that conversation 131

would be processed with ease; especially after almost four months of complete radio silence... As that gloom scenario finished to take life in my mind, I suddenly heard a raise in Erica's tone; the bathroom was not s oundproof after all. Even though it was not loud enough to make up exactly what was being said, the new frequency at which her voice now emitted, suggested a clear voicing of her concern to the individual on the other end of the line; my plan had worked... The bathroom door swung open shortly followed by the sound of Erica's footsteps growing closer and closer.. She opened the door to the bedroom to find me with my back against the headboard, cigarette raised to my l ips. She put her hand on her mouth and gave me the look of a child that had just hit the l imit of monthly allowable swear words then said: "I just told my Grandma to fuck off !!! and then hung up the phone!!!" She then launched herself from where she was standing and landed on the bed right by my feet. I ran my fingers through her hair with a look of concern on my face... She looked up at me and was quick to deduct from my demeanor, that I was not very impressed by the described act of rebellion.. "What now?" she asked, in an exasperated tone. "Are you still mad?" she added, while gently caressing my thigh and laying her head on my lap. Of course I wasn't mad; my strategy of associating her grandmother's accusations towards me with feelings of loss and abandonment that were portrayed by the image of myself packing my belongings without explanation, had worked perfectly. It had created an unspoken alliance between herself and I against big bad Muira, simply because on the scales of the subconscious, the pain of losing me outweighed the pain caused by any thoughts of me fucking her friend; either true or not... I could however not just yet allow myself to start celebrating victory before properly finalizing what I had started. Regardless of the outcome of the conversation she had just had with her grandmother, a conversation had still been had; meaning that whatever Muira had said even though still dismissed as nothing more than profanatory propaganda, had still had an impact on Erica's mind, which was now a ticking time bomb that I had to imminently defuse... Law number 44 of my code spoke on the art of disarming using simple mirroring. Muira was a significant figure in Erica's life, and I knew alienating her was a source of chagrin on her end; despite of how content she was acting for my simple sake. In order to avoid any future undesired investigations into the matter, I decided to build a little rapport by identifying with the pain she was trying so hard to mask... "Babe I'm not ok with all of this." 132

Following a startled reaction, she lifted h er head off my lap and sat up to face me. "What are you talking about? Not ok with what?" she asked, with a confused look on her face. I pulled her towards me and laid her head on my chest; I then began gently running my fingers through her hair while softly kissing her head. "Babe look" I said, putting an unnecessary emphasis to my pause; "I know how important your grandma is to you, and despite the fact that she doesn't like me due to her own personal reasons, I just don't wanna be the reason why you guys should start alienating each other. I care about you way too much to put you in a situation that would affect that pretty smile on your face".... She lifted her head off my chest and locked her lips on mine in a passionate and loving kiss then said: "You are an amazing boyfriend, and if she cannot understand how happy you make me, then she has no right to my affection. One day she will see you for the fantastic person you are and she will no longer have anything to say..." The deed was done; I had won th e battle, but I knew it was a matter of time until Muira re-gathered her troops and came after me for round two. Readiness from then on was going to be all...

RECONCILIATION It had now been a little over four months since I had last spoken to my parents . They were still having a hard time getting over the pain and shame I had bestowed upon my family`s name by deciding to go play house with a 17 year old girl, her mother, and 14 year old brother. The little news I got of them was from my sisters and according to them, spirits were still running fairly high. This however, was not a major concern on my end; I knew it was a matter of time until my mother forced a peace treaty down my father’s throat. The only issue in this case was the fact that time was no longer a luxury in this equation… It was a late November evening when Erica and I were summoned to the dinner table by her mother. A few minutes later, conversation was flowing until Alex asked the one question that made me contemplate reaching over the t able and detaching his spine from the rest of his body by yanking it out of his mouth. “Rob; how come Erica has never met your parents?” The piece of meatball I was in the midst of chewing suddenly felt like a sand paper sandwich as first degree murder was now becoming a seductive option in my mind…

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Her mother suddenly put her cutlery down, looked at me and said: â&#x20AC;&#x153;Yeah, how come?â&#x20AC;? I was now officially in a corner. I needed to buy time; regardless of what it involved. I gently put my fork on my plate and slowly turned to face Erica then said: "Yea, good question Alex, how come Erica has never met my parents?" "Babe do you wanna meet my parents?" I asked, with a growing smile on my face. She smiled and said: "Well, do you think they would like me?" I debate d telling her the truth about how they wouldn't cancel a dentist appointment to attend her funeral but decided to adopt a different route. "I can't see why not. I guess we'll get to tell around Christmas time won't we".... I knew putting a time frame onto the whole thing would be a good way of appeasing all spirits. I now had a little under a month to figure out how I was going to convince my parents to not only lift the embargo in place between them and I, but also sit across and possibly break bread with the one individual they fully blamed for my imagined demise. I suddenly felt like I would have better luck concocting peace in the middle east if I invested half the effort that my new venture now required. I felt tired and started debating if I wanted ou t... My new Social Insurance Card had been sent to me in the mail a few weeks prior and it was now just a matter of a week or two until my student loan came in. I decided in that moment to end it all upon that most glorious of days. I could no longer bare the thought of watching my friends live their college experience to the fullest while I spent my Saturday nights in my 17 year old girlfriend's room listening to her cry about how little I cared for not meeting her up at the bus stop on her way home from school. The novelty was quickly wearing off and every l ittle thing was turning into a full blown civil war and I had no where to run to; it was only a matter of time until I lost my mind... The following weeks saw Erica growing more and more impatient a bout my lack of details concerning her meeting with my parents. One Friday night, what started as a series of questions on the matter quickly escalated into a vicious shouting match that saw me make a rookie mistake a man with my knowledge should have known better to avoid. For an instant , I blacked out in rage and grabbed her cell-phone which was sitting on a near by night stand and threw it against the wall where it shattered in multiple pieces. She stood there with a stunned look on her face and silent tears started running down her cheeks. Before she had a chance of letting a single word out of her mouth however, her bedroom door swung open and there stood an enraged Sheena. "What the fuck is going on in here!!!"

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I began mining my brain for a val id explanation as to what was going on, but the vivid thoughts of my upcoming demise if the situation was to take a turn for the worse had every single brain cell within me working relentlessly. One badly calculated emotional act was now on the verge of seeing me homeless. "If you two don't put a stop to this immediately, this arrangement is going to have to come to a stop!!" said Sheena, in a tone that left no room for doubt as to her taking the matter in her own hands if she had to. "And if you think I'm going to buy you another phone you are in for another surprise there missy" she added, as she slammed the door behind her... As soon as she left, Erica took a seat on the far end of the bed and started crying her eyes out. I began making my way towards her to see if I could possibly salvage the situation, but as soon as I took a step in her direction, she lifted her head up and said the few words I had been dreading to hear for the past five minutes. "Rob, I want you to leave my house." My heart immediately sunk in my stomach and my knees begun to weaken. The voice in my head kept telling me to remain calm in order to come up with a solution but the thought of waking up in a homeless shelter clouded any form of reason I had left within me. I finally managed to trick my body into allowing some kind of air to flow through my lungs and started going over my options. Law number 3 of my code dictated that I had to maintain my presence of mind amongst the turmoil of events; I suddenly started wishing I had remembered that a few minutes prior to what now seemed like my inevitable destiny as an addition to city homeless statistics. But people like me never aloud such petty things as regret to poison their mind; so I immediately lit a cigarette, took a long drag, exhaled slowly and said: "Fine, your wish is my command;" and started reaching for my suitcase on top of the closet. I needed to buy time... I started to slowly empty out the drawers that contained my belongings to the sound of Erica's nearly silent sobs. I deba ted reaching out and begging for her forgiveness but Law number 13 of my code instructed me to never appeal to people's mercy or gratitude; but to their self interest instead. That is when it hit me. If the only source of forgiveness was going to be begging, I just had to find someone to do the dirty work for me and all I would have to do is claim the credit; just as it was outlined in Law number 7 of my code. And I knew exactly who that someone was... I had now been living with the Kleers for what was close to almost five months. During that period of time I had gotten to develop a personal relationship with each of Erica's family members. But none had taken a special l iking to my ways

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more than young Alex. Building rapport with him was easy. He was a 13 year old boy who had spent the majority of his l ife in a house full of women as a result of a messy divorce. My appearance in his life had granted him the feeling of having that older brother he never had. We often spent many evenings playing video games and just being guys; and after five months he now considered me a consistent male figure in his life, and to my knowledge loss of consistency is a sure breaker of young hearts. It was time to cash in my chips... I finished packing the remainder of my belo ngings and proceeded to putting on my shoes and winter coat. I then walked towards the living room where Alex sat in the midst of a Sponge Bob episode. I walked passed him without a single word and started rummaging through a near by book case that contained a few of my books and DVDs. I grabbed the ones that belonged to me and started making my way to the door. That is when he asked the one question that was meant to be the catalyst of the whole entire operation. "Hey Rob, where are you going?" A sudden grin formed on my face and I slowly turned around while managing to spot a heart broken expression. I looked in his eyes for a brief moment in order to allow the gravity of the situation to sink in his young innocent mind then said: "Hey buddy, come here." He immediately sprung on his feet and started walking towards me. I ran my hand through his blond hair with a sad smile on my face, pulled two chairs, asked him to sit down and after a few more seconds of intense eye contact I held both his hands in mine and said: "Hey buddy, you know I love you right?" just loud enough to make sure that Erica was able to hear the whole conversation... He looked at me with fear and confusion in his eyes; he knew something was happening. "I love you too man" he said, while gently squeezing my hands that now fully held his. "I have to go away for a little while, your sister and I have to work through a few things our separate ways." I was not even half way done with my sentence when a heavy flow of tears started streaming down his face with vigor. Even though it was the reaction I had been working towards, a little part of me couldn't help but feel slightly guilty; but Law number 39 of my code dictated that I had to stir the waters in order to catch the fish. The fish was no w in the net... "You guys are breaking up?" he yelled at the top of his lungs. Although I was not displeased with that reaction itself, I was still very surprised by how emotionally surcharged it was; and I wasn't the only one. Upon hearing all the raucous in the living room, Erica opened the door to her bedroom and started walking towards us. As soon as she turned the corner, her younger brother decided to immediately voice his concern by verbally assaulting his sister. "You bitch!!!

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why did you ruin it? you ruin everything!!!" I could not have hoped for better; everything was going according to plan. After a few minutes of an argument structured around Erica telling her l ittle brother to mind his own business and Alex chastising and damning his sister to all gods dead and al ive, I decided to go in for the kill... "Hey Alex, sit your ass down!!!" I said, in a tone that left no room for confusion as far as its seriousness was concerned. The room was immediately consumed by a deadly silence that was only broken by the sound of Alex's footsteps back towards the chair I had pulled for him beside me. "It's not fair!!!" he said, while wiping a stream of tears down his face. I again gently ran my hands through his blond hair, then proceeded to to remove a colony of snot that had now taken refuge on his upper lip. "Alex look" I began, while taking a deep breath and attempting to maintain some form of teary eye contact. "Your sister and I love each other to death and sometimes when people love each other, they fight . It's normal and you will get there yourself someday. When this happens, sometimes those people take a little time apart in order to calm down and stop being mean to each other; it doesn't mean they are breaking up." A faint smile suddenly crossed his fac e... "But most importantly Alex, your sister and I love you very much, hence why you need to promise me that you will never talk to her l ike that again or you and I won't be friends anymore." I took a slight side look and noticed Erica's shocked expression at the fact that I was coming to her defense against the one person in the house that was willing to break family ties in order to stand up for me. "OK, I promise I will never talk to her like that again" said Alex , while still attempting to catch his breath from all the crying. "Good, now go give her a hug and tell her how much you are sorry, love her and shall never do it again." He gave me a reluctant look which I responded to with a rather insisting one and upon the realization of the seriousness behind the situation at hand, he got up, walked towards his sister and fell in her arms while profusely apologizing. The deed was now done. Law Number 9 of my code dictated that my only source of victory would always be through my actions; never through argument. Instead of getting on my knees and pleading for a roof over my head by apologizing and telling her how much I cared about her, I had shown her instead by stirring a flow of hostile emotions within her brother which led to an animated reaction while I made sure that I was present to be his voice of reason. Now on a subconscious stand point, Erica associated me with the well being and emotional sanity of the most important person in her life. I was officially indispensable. It was now time to see if the whole entire set of events prior had yielded any fruits...

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After a minute or two of being caught up in the warmth behind the little brother sister moment that Erica and Alex were having, I got up from the chair on which I was sitting, grabbed the bag co ntaining my belongings and started walking towards the front door. On the way however, I decided to play the final card in my deck. Upon my getting up, the Kleer offspring decided to interrupt the moment they were having and both instantly gave me this lost puppy look. I walked towards Erica, locked her eyes within mine for a brief moment, gently placed my hand on the side of her face while still maintaining eye contact then very softly gave her an extended kiss on the forehead. I felt her knees weaken as another stream of hot tears scrolled down her face and onto my palm... I affectionately wiped those same tears off a single side of her face and without saying a word, picked my bag back up and resumed my pretend journey towards homelessness. With my eyes closed, while biting my bottom lip to blood in anticipation of the results of my earlier endeavors, I reached for the door knob to the sound of Alex's angry and disappointed footsteps towards his bedroom. The moment I went to turn it and open the door, Eri ca erupted in an almost inaudible pleading shriek. Even though my brain did not immediately decipher her request, I still felt an inexplicable amount of relief take over my body. A discreet smile instantly formed on my face; I had done it yet again... I however quickly wiped it off and reminded myself that if I failed to stay in character in the dying moments of the whole operation, the entire exercise will all have been for nothing. I revamped the heart broken look on my face, then slowly turned around to ask her what she had just said. She was crying and breathing at such an erratic pace that I could barely make out a word other than "I'm sorry" and "please don't leave." Despite the fact that every fiber in my body urged me to hold her in my arms and console her, I forced myself to stand there and remain emotionless for the purpose of the final act in my play. Law number 11 of my code dictated that I had to learn to keep others dependent on me; by letting the pain she was feeling at the moment sink in, I e nsured the creation of a gigantic fear of loss in her subconscious mind. Now every time an argument would spark between us, the thought of losing me would take her right back to the moment where she stood in the middle of her living room crying her eyes ou t and barely breathing; therefor heavily influencing her future decision making process. I now owned her spirit, mind and soul...

CATCH AND RELEASE

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The few following weeks leading into the holidays were marked by nothing short of a series of miracles... It started off with finding out that despite all the drama that had insisted to unfold in my life, I had somehow managed to pass all my first semester classes. That morning, I thought about calling my mother to share the news with her but decided to get hi gh instead; she wouldn't have seen passed her rage I rationalized. Or so I thought... I was mid nap one early December afternoon when my phone started vibrating on the pillow beside me. My initial reflex half asleep was to pol itely decline the call without looking to see who was calling. There was not even an interval of two and half seconds before my phone started vibrating again; my mind immediately went to work... There could only be two people in my life at that time that could blatantly allocate themselves the liberty of shamelessly violating call back etiquette rules in such a neanderthal fashion. One of those individuals was Erica, assuming such privileges came concealed in the fine prints of the whole girlfriend package; but with her being in the room next door, it meant only one person was left on that list... Upon my realization, I quickly stumbled to grab my phone off the pillow but it bounced in the process and landed in between the bed and the wall. I immediately sprung off the bed and managed to gather the type of strength that would shame Hercules into the ground as I slid a king size bed an entire foot on carpet in one push desperate to catch my phone before it stopped ringing. I would reach it on what seemed like the last ring before the call was sent to voicemail. I managed to accept the call in that critical moment with a frantic "Hello!" and that's when I heard her voice on the other end of the line... It was my mother... She jokingly asked if I had been ignoring her phone calls; being the first one of the kind in now almost four months, I didn't think it wise to advise her to give it a few more impromptu attempts like this one and it wouldn't be long before it was no longer topic for amusement on her end. But also because deep down I missed her terribly ; and hearing the sound of her voice was bringing incalculable amounts of joy to my heart. I was however quickly brought back to reality when three minutes into the conversation, my mother and I were struggling to make small talk. I could hear whispers of disappointment within her tone, but somehow what would have broken an average soul had little impact on me... I knew the call meant that there was a crack in the wall and it was a matter of time until the hatchet got buried. Right as I finished processing that thought, is when she decided discombobulate my entire nervous system by saying the last

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words I would have expected out of her mouth in a million years even if my sister Jocelyne's l ife depended on it... "Come home for Christmas dinner, bring your girlfriend if you want." The sound of those words at first echoed in my head for what seemed like an eternity before my brain finally decided to process them into useful data. My initial refuge was in the searching and finding of some scandalous reason why she would ask me to do such a thing. The sudden thought of my mother holding my girlfriend hostage by tying her to the Christmas tree in the middle of the living room grew more vivid once I envisioned the possibil ity of a bonfire; but the same thought went as quickly as it came... I was willing to do whatever it took for a shot at an attempt to come to some sort of reconciliation agreement with my parents; even if it meant being an accessory to a live human sacrifice.. After several failed attempts at formulating a mere illusion of a sentence that showed any level of gratitude, I still managed to let out a timid and confused "yeah? ok thanks" before she was quick to inform me in a very forewarning tone that dinner was at five and any form o f tardiness would be taken as a direct insult on the family name. I acknowledged her very subtle death threat by reassuring her that we would be on time before we proceeded to exchanging a set of rather emotionally confused good byes... The minute I got off the phone with my mother, I immediately decided to begin an investigation in the motives behind this most surprising of invitations; there was only one individual to turn to for intel in these kinds of matters... My sister Marie being the youngest in my family, now enjoyed the privileges of being the last strong hold between my parents and the increasingly menacing reality of an empty nest now that my sister Jocelyne had moved an almost 8 hour bus ride away for university. One of the many positions of influence that her new found privileges now allocated her, was one of confidant... Now add that to the fact that she had dedicated her life to rectifying the fallacy that was my poor parents twice failed attempt at an obedient poster child, she not only had the dirt on all the family business but she also had a say on how it was handled. It had came to a point where if my sister Jocelyne and I wanted something from our parents that we thought would be rather hard to obtain, we would have no choice but to sol icit Marie's lobbying services due to the fact that to my father her wishes were his commands.. My suspicions concerning her possession of knowledge on the matter would come to be validated by her own uncoerced admitting a few seconds into the phone cal l. She could barely contain her excitement as she wholeheartedly spilled the beans...

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According to her, the news of my then unholy living arrangements as well as the state of affairs between my parents and I had made it to the Jehovah witness ears of my aunt Claudine. Instead of orchestrating a surprise emergency exorcism as I had surely expected her to though, she decided to take it upon herself to talk some sense into my parents. She had gotten married a l ittle earlier than my father and as a result my cousins were a few years older than us. My aunt's voice of reason had originated from personal experience. She had been faced with the challenge of taking an unwavering discipl inary stand against my cousin Evelyn who had found herself involved in an arrangement very similar to mine with a male companion that she fancied at the time... My aunt's lack of flexibility in the matter would lead my ever so slightly stubborn cousin onto a spiral of several seriously abusive relationships, all which would later on seem like benign child's play once the latter came into the picture in the form of an unplanned pregnancy at a rather young age... My aunt didn't want my parents to make the same mistakes she had made; being not only my father's only sister but also his only remaining immediate sibl ing, her word carried a certain weight in my father's ears which explained the sudden white flags hanging over the fort... Christmas dinner would initially unfold with the ease and comfort of a bone marrow transplant during the early stages. But the mood around the table would significantly improve with every bit of reassurance my parents received concerning the fact that Erica was indeed not the demonic praising temptress to whom I provided endless hours of cunnilingual pleasures during small barnyard animal sacrifice rituals, they had originally thought she was. By the end of the evening, all signs of hostility were now considered a thing of the past. It was as if the last five months had been nothing more than a far distant m emory in a few stubborn and unforgiving minds. The world was finally whole again; I had my family back. Little I knew it was just a matter of days until we were almost back to square one... Following Christmas dinner at my parents, Erica and I decided to bid our farewells and make our way back to St. Catharine's from Fort Erie where my parents lived at the time. A forty-five minute bus ride later, we arrived at her aunt Chloe's house who was in the midst of entertaining several family members. We were greeted at the door by the sounds of an intoxicated Sheena voicing her concerns about liquor regulation Laws in the province. Following an animated exchange of hol iday wishes with family members I had now ran into a few times at prior functions, I was subtly invited to the garage by Aunt Chloe's husband Tim for

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the purpose of sharing a marijuana cigarette. I loved Tim, so I decided to take him up on his offer... One of my biggest fears going into the whole thing, was the fact that there were a possibility that Erica's extend family would not be as understanding of her new bed sharing arrangements with a slightly older black kid as her mother had so graciously done. This could not have been any further from the truth; Erica's family had been very cooperative and understanding during the proceedings so far, even despite the fact that her grandmother secretly fantasized about liquefying my genitals and feeding them back to me through an intravenous tube. Tim and Chloe however were my favorite... They had been married for what was close to almost 10 years then , and had 3 boys together ranging from the ages of thirteen to three and a half years old. Tim was a transport truck driver and was often away for most of the week on runs to return on weekends. As a result Chloe who worked full time as a registered nurse was now also responsible for the care of young boys. Having no obvious choice she would turn to her sisters and mother who all conveniently lived within walking distance of each other, to help out with the bo ys. This would give Muira and the remainder of the matriarchs posse a way into the control room of Tim and Chloe's marriage. Before he knew it, Tim was now not just married to Chloe but also to the remainder of the clan... His boys still being too young to share a cold one and talk playoffs statistics, he had perceived my sudden appearance in his niece's l ife as a mirage of freedom from the estrogen prison in which he was now doomed to spend the rest of his remaining days, unless he came to peace with the notion of losing half of everything he had worked so hard for. We had both quickly found out that we shared the same rather vivid sexual appetite; we would spend hours on end in the garage after Sunday dinner smoking cigarettes and discussing any new creat ive ways he might have engineered that week to step outside his marriage without arousing suspicions. He would go on for hours about tales of his indiscretions on the road while I sat there nodding affirmatively, not knowing that some of his ways would later on become very handy during the unfolding of a rather perilous situation... We had been in the garage for a little over ten minutes when Tim lit a cigarette and took a long drag that looked more like a cry for help rather than the mundane satisfaction of a nicotine craving. He hadn't been himself for the last ten minutes which I had mainly attributed to the possibility of a slight malaise caused by drinking beyond his limits at the time; his body language however, seemed to

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indicate otherwise following thorough observation. That is when I decided to caringly inquire as to what was the matter with him... "Hey Tim are you alright man? you don't look too good; and trust me you are a pretty ugly dude already, so for me to notice it must be serious. C 'mon talk to me." He had been in the midst of sending down a sip of beer when he chuckled to the sound of my joke and the beer came rushing out his nose. He immediately sprung back to avoid any further spillage, sent a couple "fuck offs" in my general vicinity then said: "Fuck man, I hate the holidays." I let out a slight laugh and proceeded to asking him for the reasoning behind his rather morbid view of a time the rest of the world considered the happiest of the year... "I swear to you Rob, if I have to put u p with one more day of these women congregated in my living room having pointless fights , I'm putting the boys in my truck and we are moving to Wisconsin." He went on to explain that he had had to play mediator on several occasions today in order to keep t he peace and it was only a matter of time until he had to step in again at the rate at which the alcohol was flowing that night. After humoring his demise for a few minutes, I suddenly started to wonder if even I should be worried. I had after all once bared witness to how far out of character Sheena could step upon imbibition of a case or two of beer... I had not finished recollecting the events of an evening that saw Sheena drag a now ex boyfriend to the curb and setting a few of his items on fire in th e midst of a drunken disagreement between the two, when I heard the screen door on the side entrance slam shut rather loudly followed by a set of angry female voices that all seemed to very much be willing to take a life in the name of what they bel ieved in if necessary. Tim and I immediately turned towards each other in amused disbelief and bursted out laughing at a coincidence that we then found entertaining. "What did I tell you? they are back at it again" said Tim , in a rather dismissive tone. It continued to remain fun and games for us for a few more minutes until we heard the sound of a semi empty red wine bottle breaking through the air and landing on a near by wall... Tim and I immediately rushed upstairs to find Erica and her mother on the verge of engaging in intense hand to hand combat. Growing up with two sisters, one of my earliest learned lessons in life was to never get in between two women who had already assumed position unless you were knowledgeable in para -military training. Tim was still at a loss for words as he admired the extent of the damages the broken bottle had caused, when Muira suddenly emerged out of what seemed

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like thin air and immediately begun to question all present witnesses on the then unfolding matters... "What on God's earth is going on in here? What are you two fighting about now?" She hadn't barely finished asking her question when both Erica and Sheena erupted in a slew of undecipherable emotionally charged dialogue. "You are a disrespectful l ittle cunt" yelled Sheena, as she proceeded to rush in Erica's direction with every intention of drawing bloo d, before being stoped by an anticipating Tim who to this day carries a scar or two as a reminder to never play peace keeper between two angry women. Slight inebriety and a fiery attitude would then lead Erica into making the statement that would officially mark the inevitable end of it all... "Oh yeah? I'm a cunt? Coming from the underachieving whore that has her legs open 24 hours? Don't make me laugh..." Upon her final sarcastic chuckle, the room was immediately overtaken by a deadly silence. Everyone present knew that in that moment, Erica had just crossed a point of no return. I took one more step back hoping that at least , if I was about to watch my girlfriend die at the hand of her own mother, her blood wouldn't stain my brand new shirt. I reluctantly turned towards Sheena who's forehead vein was now the size of a highway off ramp and found her at a loss for words. I hadn't even begun to find comfort in Sheena's newly developed selective mutism, when I was quickly brought back to reality by the one person who had been praying to any form of deity known to man for the day she would have the chance to destroy me... "You know, she never used to talk to you like this unt il he came into her life" said Muira, attempting to mask the slight evil grin that now called her face home. That moment, I finally understood how Julius Caesar felt lying on those senate steps with several daggers implanted in his body. The wisdom that ca me with my code had always enabled me to foresee attacks like these from miles away, but even I had not seen this one coming; I felt powerless and couldn 't think of anything to say. Despite my hatred for Muira, I couldn't help but admire her resolve; she was about to make me pay and she was loving it... Following Muira's incendiary statement, my brain immediately embarked on a search mission for something to say in the name of damage control but it felt like it was connected to a very slow W i-Fi connection and just couldn't stop buffering. My indecision would reveal itself perilous the moment Sheena realized that she could use me to get back at her daughter. "You know what mom, you are right. Rob I need you gone by tomorrow..."

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And there it was; months of dil igent juggl ing and attention to detail destroyed by the clever opportunism of an 80 year old woman. Needless to say that who might have said that I was in a pickle in that moment would not have been judged for using the term too loosely. My initial rea ction upon Sheena's command was to let out a nervous chuckle as I looked on the ground and proceeded to raise my hands and take a couple of steps back in an effort to reassure her that I had no intention of extending my welcome in her bubble. I then turned to look at Erica who was now staring at her mother with the intensity of a Bruce Lee character, hoping that she would provide some sort of inspiration to my then frozen brain. And as if the universe had heard my prayers, so she did. But not in the immediate moment that followed... After a few more seconds of what seemed l ike a stare contest to the death, a borderl ine evil grin emerged on Erica's face. Her body suddenly seemed l ike it had instantaneously reached an unremarkable level of zen. She very slowl y reached for a glass of red wine that sat on a table near by and took a very slow sip of its contents; and that is when she decided to put a dagger through her mother's heart. "Fine, if he leaves I will leave with him." Sheena's face proceeded to react to that comment by adopting a shed of red yet to be introduced to Crayola's customer base. Fuming with rage she lit an already half smoked cigarette hoping for the nicotine to save her from time in prison due to a crime of passion. "Fine then; you both have until tomorrow morning to get the fuck out!!!.." The sudden feel ing that life was moving too fast for me decided to declare its presence by draining my lower body of some necessary motor skills and convincing my sweat glandes to reach for new frontiers. I felt powerless as I watched two angry women seal my fate and send me down a spiral of incertitude. The real ity was that I had received my student loan cheque but the bank was holding it for ten days in order for it to clear. But according to Sheena, we di dn't have ten days... My plan had originally been to wait on my money then gently break it to Erica that my school work was suffering from our living arrangement and had found it right to experiment with a different option in order to find out if it generated better results. Naturally she would have put up an argument, which I would have then crushed by guilting her for attempting to stand between m e and my scholastic ambitions. I would have then reassured her that my moving out wouldn't change a thing as far as our romance was concerned. I assumed I would then probably have to deal with a few insecure days following my exodus ; which would then quickly be followed by a slew of sexual adventures with college girls my new found freedom now afforded me the lu xury to meet and most importantly entertain...

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That night however, the pillow talk between Erica and I consisted of me listening and fervently agreeing with an angry rant about how much of an unreasonable drunkard her mother was. Although I made an effor t to show how much I concurred with the series of angry remarks that kept spewing out of her warm little mouth, I was barely there. I kept digging my brain for a solution for the awful ordeal that now awaited me in a few hours. I slowly started going over my options in my head... The first option to come to mind was my parents. With our new peace agreement over turkey dinner still fresh in the minds, it was a sudden source of comfort to know that they would most likely take me in if I approached them under the pretense that our latest encounter had steard me towards the right path; showing me the light that saw me rid myself of the evil shadow of temptation that Erica had cast on me. Granted the fact that I could make it work, therefor saving myself from a life of showering at the gas station, the thought of living under my father's borderline sociopathic tyranny following my mince taste of freedom, sent shivers down my spinal cord. There had to be another way...

THE PRICE OF FREEDOM.. And another way there was. I was awaken in the middle of the night by an idea that to this day i still believe was a gift from the universe. In a matter of seconds I ran my new found theory through my head over and over for what seemed like hours until all aspects of it made sense. I felt a confident smile take over my face and suddenly, I was back in control. I closed my eyes and fell back asleep with a certain sense of peace; I had one more card to play and it was a good one... The following morning, I expressly made sure I woke up before Erica; as soon as I came to peace with my urge to wake her in order to relieve a particularly invasive morning wood, I proceeded to reach for my phone in order to text the only man that had been on my mind the whole entire night. I typed the letter "J" in the contact list and his name came up second. Jim Kleer struck me as an early riser; I was about to find out. I thought long and hard about what I should write and after countless paragraphs written and completely erased half way, I deci ded to keep it simple. "You asked what it is like to live with Sheena? I think I might want to get a little more detailed.." I hadn't pressed the send button for all of five minutes before my phone vibrated in indication that I had just received a text m essage. My heart skipped a

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beat when I saw Jim's name flash on my screen. I opened the text message and its suggestive nature slightly threw me off. "How do you like your coffee?" Half an hour later, I would be greeted by a smiley Jim holding two Grande caramel machiatos in the parking lot of a Starbucks near by. We debated taking a seat inside but opted to go for a drive instead. I had not finished buckl ing my seat belt when Jim decided to immediately get to the meat and potatoes. "So what do you want Robert?" At first, I debated telling him that the purpose behind our early morning rendez-vous was nothing more than an attempt at using his 17 year old daughter as leverage for a place to live for the next week or two ; but Law number 3 of my code dictated that to his great misfortune, I had to conceal my intentions at all time. So instead I took a slow meditative sip of my coffee then said: "the same thing you and I both want the most Jim; Erica's happiness"... He appeared a bit intrigued at first by such a vague yet bold statement as he threw a quick inquisitive glance my way before changing lanes from behind a slower moving SUV. "Well, do you think she is unhappy right now?" he asked, as he reached for a blue cigarette pack in the c enter console. I proceeded to recounting the events that had taken place the evening prior, in a manner that portrayed Erica as this helpless victim to an alcoholic mother with no bel ief in boundaries as far as emotionally abusing her offspring was concerned. In the end, I finis hed my story by telling Jim that Sheena now wanted us out and we had to find another place to live... At this point, he could barely contain the smile on his face. He knew that if Erica moved out, it meant no more child support payments to Sheena which w ould eventually put her in a tough spot economically, maybe even forcing her to ultimately sign the divorce papers Jim had been begging to for quite some time. But little he knew, I knew as well; and that had been my angle from the beginning. It was time to go in for the kill... I took another slow sip of my coffee as I allowed Jim to soak in his moment of celebration before taking it away then said: " A friend of mine in Ottawa has agreed to take us in for the time being while we figure things out." That child-l ike smile that had called his face home for the last 5 minutes , suddenly metamorphosed into an expression of shock and awe. "Ottawa!!! that's like six hours away!!! how about school?!?" I sat there in brief silence in order to allow the build up of the gravity behind my statement...

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Jim frantically looked for another cigarette and after lighting it and taking a drag that belonged in the record books said: "There is no way I can allow for that to happen." A small part of me couldn't help but laugh o n the inside; poor Jim was under the impression that the events taking place in that moment were under his control. Law number 31 of my code had thought me that I had to be in control of all options by making others play with the cards I dealt. Jim had no idea that the hand he now held was of my choosing... "Jim look; the last thing I want is to come between you and your daughter. I have gotten to know you a little better now and I have an immense amount of respect for you, hence why I am here with you at such an ungodly hour. But truth be told, I am crazy about your daughter, and I know she loves me too. We won't allow anyone to separate us; and knowing your daughter better than I do, you know she will put up a fight. So work with me on finding a solution that will see us all winning. Because the last thing I want is seeing Erica's school work suffer because of Sheena's madness.." I had hit a nerve; even harder than I thought I would. My initial expectation following the delivery of that statement had bee n for an aggressive Jim. After all, what father would take lightly a man threatening to come between him and his daughter? But instead, he had nodded all the way through and was now involved in deep thought; mining every single brain cell he had for a plau sible solution to the problem we now faced, together. I kept wondering how he could possibly be so calm about all this until I realized that rule number 13 of my code was in full effect. When asking for help, appeal to people 's self interest; never to their mercy or gratitude. My assertion of control was now slowly becoming a subconscious effort... "How about my place, you guys could stay with Genie and I until you manage to get your own place!!! We could even help you guys look!!!" And there it was; the fish had bitten. Regardless of the fact that Jim's new found wisdom had came from my careful seed planting, his excitement at the idea of me soiling his couch by bending his daughter over it came as a complete surprise. "Jim I couldn't possibly impose l ike that, you have already been so nice to me by making me feel welcome in your family, I couldn't possibly ask for more." For a nanosecond my mind suddenly drifted towards the plausible scenario of Jim recanting his offer as a result of my plea, which left me sl ightly nauseous; but I would find solace in thinking that my code couldn't fail me to such a disastrous extent . I would later on in life be in for a rude awakening...

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But instead of recanting his offer, he proceeded to reach for the back of my neck affectionately and say: "You make my daughter happy kid. You are family." Later on that afternoon, Erica and I would load our belongings in Jim's pick up truck to the maddening sounds of a screaming Sheena. She was in the midst of a series of incendiary accusations on Jim's character when Muira pulled into the appartement complex parking lot where we were all busy pretending not to hear Sheena. To this day I can still swear that a dark cloud followed her wherever she went... The moment her cane made it out of her 1985 dark green Buick LeSabre, I knew she was bad news. She hadn't even made it within conversation distance when she started inquiring on what was going on. An overzealous Sheena proceeded to volunteer her services in the recounting of her version o f the day's events that a few amongst us couldn't help but find questionable. By the time she made it within striking distance in the event that she should see it fit, the abnormally large greenish vein that now split her wrinkly forehead in two, was a clear indicator that violence could indeed be on the menu... "Jim how could you allow this?" said Muira , in a defiant tone. "Your daughter is 17 years old for Pete's sake." Internally, I couldn't help but laugh at this poor old woman's attempt at convincing the one man on this planet who hated her more than I did to side with her cause. I continued to load our belongings in Jim's truck as a way to avoid involvement in what was shaping up to be a full on family brawl when Muira decided to help herself to a por tion of my bone marrow by mentioning the last person I wanted anywhere close to this turmoil. "That's fine , if you won't listen to your mother, I know he will listen to his" she said, after Erica had just sworn up and down that she had no intention of list ening to a mother she considered a drunkard... For the first time in my life, I encouraged myself to envision the positives in a life behind bars due to an aggravated assault charge on an elderly woman; but was quickly discouraged by the fact that orange was indeed not my color.. "My mother has nothing to do with this" I said, attempting to very calmly set down the suit case I had in my hands. "Are you sure about that? Because I am tempted to verify this for myself " responded Muira, in a cold and threatening manner. She had me in a corner and she knew it. Despite the fact that there were no doubt in my mind that this old woman hated my guts, that moment, the infinitesimal side of me that still held on to the belief that there were still a shred of humanity beyond her multi-facet wrinkles, died agonizingly...

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I couldn't allow for this to happen. I had just worked really hard at rebuilding the relationship with my parents and it now seemed as though the little ordeal that had plagued the latter's last few months, was nothing but a distant memory. I couldn't allow Muira to reopen a wound that had just barely scabbed by telling my poor mother that I was responsible for the borderline fugue that her granddaughter was in the midst of staging. I had to figure some thing out; and quickly... I did what I do every time I am confronted with what seems like Armageddon. I sought refuge in my code. I hoped it would bring me the wisdom I needed to vanquish the vampire that inhabited Muira's body. And as if it knew to never fail me, something in my head suddenly clicked. I had an idea; but the more I ran it over and over within the confines of my mind, the more it just seemed like a suicide mission due to all the improbabilities within the equation. But just like in any do or die situation, i had no choice but to do. After what seemed like an eternity of defying eye contact between Muira and I, I decided to rummage around Jim's truck for space to house the final remaining suit case, then turned to Muira and said: "You do as you please; we are out of here." I watched Sheena bite her bottom lip to blood in anger as Erica, Jim and I got into his truck and drove off in the late afternoon sun. A few hours after settling in Jim's guest room, I told Erica that I had to run to the l ibrary at school in order to grab a book I needed to complete an assignment. Minutes later, I was waiting in Muira's apartment's parking lot, right beside her car. She would come out of the building 2 hours later; the moment she laid eyes on me, I was able to diagnose at least three stroke like symptoms from a distance in a matter of seconds . She began walking towards me and once she had reached threatening distance, she very slowly opened her mouth and said: "What do you want boy?" Within all realms of reason, I was in the midst of a face off against a frail old woman, who by all accounts really couldn't do much to me. But the fact that in my mind she came off as a the three headed offspring of an unholy union between a dragon and a grizzly bear, couldn't help but drive up my heart rate to insane proportions.. "Peace," I replied to her question, attempting to come off as calm as I could possibly fake. "Can we talk? I am sure you won't mind hearing what I have to say." She looked at me with a newly acquired air of curiosity; then pointed at her car and said: "Get in.."

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uncomfortable cushions; it felt like I was negotiating peace inside of an ashtray.. "Muira look, I know you don't like me" I began. "You don't say" she interjected, in a rather sarcastic manner. I took a minute before resuming my statement in order to not allow her poisonous attitude to have me st ep out of character. "I am trying to spare you the pain of having me in your grand daughter's life, can you work with me here?" I said, in an imploring yet slightly defiant tone. There were a sudden increase in the air of curiosity that now called her face home. "Go on" she very calmly said, as she readjusted her glasses in order not to miss a second of what was about to come out of my mouth... "Long story short, I don't want my parents anywhere near this mess." she obnoxiously laughed at my statement and said: "See boy, you forfeited that option the moment you swindled my granddaughter into moving out of her mother's house. Don't think I can't see through you boy." I started wondering how many of her condescending "boys" I could take before spreading the contents of her cranium all over her dashboard. But I had a plan to see through; remaining focused was essential. "Look, the matter of fact is , you don't want me to walk away from her now. She will blame the two of you for her heartbreak and she will never move back in her mother's apartment; therefor resulting in Sheena losing out on the child support payments. Now we don't want that do we?" I asked, with a check mate look on my face... I could see that I now had her undivided attention. The "fuck, he is right" look on her face in that moment was visible all the way from space. "So what do you propose boy?" she asked, while reaching for a cigarette pack out of her purse. I proceeded by reaching for my own pack inside my pocket, but the moment I went to light it, she put her full hand over the flame and said: "Did I say you could smoke in my car?" as she exhaled a gigantic cloud of smoke herself. I couldn't help but give her an astonished look; I thought about lighting it anyway in defiance, but Law number 19 of my code had instructed me to always know who I was dealing with in order to not offend the wrong people. I just had to see my plan through in order to put an end to the misery. I slowly put my now non-lit cigarette back into the pack and said: "I n eed 2 weeks to find a place and Erica thinks she is moving in with me. You stay away from my parents and I will find a way to let her down easily while your name stays in the clear. I hear a word from my parents about this and I swear to God I will do anything in my power to make sure your granddaughter disdains the thought of even being beside you on your death bed" I said defiantly.. "Are you threatening me boy?" she asked, in a tone that indicated very low tolerance for threats..I thought about admitting to her that I was indeed threatening her and

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had every intention to see my threats to fruition if she was unwilling to see my demands met. But my whole entire plan had revolved around Law number 22 of my code; which dictated that I had to use the su rrender tactic in order to transform my weakness into power. Reaffirming my disdain for her, which already oozed from every pore in my body, was no way to surrender. "No Muira, I would nerver. Despite everything, I still respect you as one of my elders" I said, attempting not to laugh at a statement that could not have been any further from the truth. We sat in silence for a few seconds that seemed like an eternity while Muira ran my proposition through her balding head then said: "You got yourself a deal boy. 2 weeks, no more. or my next call will be to your mother; now get out of my car." I smiled, opened the car door and started walking towards the nearest bus stop. Muira was probably now sitting in her car, tapping herself on the back because she taught she had just gotten me to surrender. Not knowing that I had had plans of letting go of her grand daughter for weeks now and she she had just been nothing more than another pawn in the master plan. The following weeks would be marked by an intensive sea rch for the perfect appartement we could possibly find on a rent budget of $400 a month; view the fact that that was all my measly student loan could afford me. We decided to settle for a room in a student house; the thought of her and I now being confined to a mere 200 sq. feet left me petrified and slightly nauseous. I had to find a way to let her know that the play date was over and it was time to go home. But the more she talked about what color curtains she wanted for "our" room, the harder it became to find a humane way of putting her dreams down without psychologically scarring her forever... Despite the fact that our union had began as nothing more than a means to an inconvenient end, I had come to grow close to Erica ; and the thought of breaking the poor little thing's heart was becoming more and more of a nightmare to daunt me for the next few days that were to come. But aside the sudden surge of scruples towards my treatment of the fair sex, which truth be told I assumed had all perished in the aftermath of the whole Amy fiasco, I was also slightly concerned by the talk of the town as a result of me not handling this situation with the great care it deserved... Erica would get tipped off about the real truth behind our union and would proceed to blackball me around her girlfriends and any other acquaintance on her path with an ear for meaningless drama. It would just be a matter of time until I was known around town as the exploiter of the young and the timid. I couldn't let this happen; not only because Law number 5 of my code dictated that so much

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depended on reputation and I had to guard it with my life, but also because I had a few of her girlfriends on my radar as soon as I was no longer obligated to spend every waking moment with her... We would go through a week and a half of viewings with no luck; very often due to the fact that half of the ads had been misleading as to the real cost of the apartments they listed, or the fact that the other visited half gave the impression that this is where the dreams of thousands of disillusioned college kids very often came for the purpose of dying a slow and silent death. I had almost given up the hope of accomplishing our goal within the two week deadline Muira secretly expected me to honor, when we received a phone call from a rather energetic sounding man who introduced himself as Mike... Mike informed us that he had received our reply to his ad and wanted to arrange a viewing later on that afternoon. A few hours later, we would make our way to a little township outside of St.Catharine's called Thorold Ontario. Thorold was a small residential town mainly populated by students who attended the two major post-secondary institutions in the Niagara region. The moment we turned on the street Mike had told us housed his property, I instantly knew that this was where I wanted to live. There were pretty girls having a full on snow brawl on the street dressed in nothing but bikinis and Ugg boots in January weather, while a bunch of frat jocks cheered them on w ith red plastic cups in hand. This was college as it had been portrayed in every single American Pie movie; this was everything I had been longing for... We pulled up to a two story semi-detached brick house and were quickly greeted by a tall well built man who lacked some serious education in hair gel etiquette. "Hey I'M Mike; you must be Rob and Erica" he said, extending his hand to shake ours with the smile of a man who had made a successful career at peddl ing Oldsmobiles. After a brief exchange of salutations, we began a tour of the house. As soon as he opened the door to a small foyer that led directly into the living room, all evidence immediately concluded that this home was indeed inhabited by a bunch of college guys.. A few steps towards the living room saw my nostrils immediately greeted by the smell of stale empty beer containers. It was Saturday afternoon, the night prior had to have been wild; I felt a jolt down my spine at the thought of all the possible shenanigans I was now bound to get into once I had gotten to know my new roommates better. Following a tour of a basic modernly furnished kitchen, we proceeded down two sets of stairs that led to the basement. Before opening the door to the room we were to call ours once an agreement had been reached, he

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looked back to us and attempted to mimic the sound of a drumroll with the hope of alleviating the monotonous cloud that insisted on hanging over the whole tour... Finally, following his failed attempt at a comedic touch, Mike decided to open the door to a small dark bedroom that had the charm of a concentration camp bathroom stall. In one corner was a single bed with a mattress that insisted that it had a story to tell through an array of stains; and in the other corner sat a dresser that begged to pass what was in all reality a bad carpentry job, as something antique. Erica and I suddenly sought refuge in each other's eyes for whatever little joy this room had not managed to suck out of them in the last few minutes we had stepped foot in it to no success. I was now officially disillusioned as far as finding humane living conditions anywhere close to school was concerned... Following the exchange of a few awkward good byes and we'll call yas with Mike, we hopped back up in Jim's truck he had decided to lend us for the afternoon, and began heading home in silence. It wasn't until we hit the highway on ramp that everything suddenly clicked in my head; that house was the perfect way of letting Erica down easy. I quickly started analyzing all plaus ible options within the scenario in my mind until they all made sense. Now I just had to follow the plan the universe had just graciously bestowed upon me and pray to God that I one day get used to the idea of living in a room that gave the vibe of a small abattoir... Upon our arrival back at her father's house, I told Erica that we needed to talk and that it couldn't wait much longer. I even expressly allowed the gravity in my voice to leave no room for confusion as to what direction our upcoming conversation was bound to head in. A few minutes later, we were sitting on the living room couch facing each other.. "Baby look, I am taking the place" I began, not really sure if jumping right onto the meat and potatoes was the right way to avoid a scandal. "There is no way we are living in that place; you can forget it" replied Erica, in a tone that left no doubt as far as the establishment of her certitude was concerned... This was not revealing itself to be an easy task; I suddenly realized that attempting to go through this process without causing any damages was as realistic as an attempt to sneeze with my eyes open. Damage was inevitable; I had to attack this situation with a band-aid removal mentality. It was going to have to be a quick and effective. "Baby look, I don't think you understand." I went on to explain to her that aside from the fact that I bel ieved our living arrangement to no longer condoning of success as far as my scholastic ambitions were concerned; I also managed to kill any future hopes of holding her breath and moving in with

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me anyway, in the name of love; by explaining to her that the thought of her alone with so many hunky college boys in the house while I was at school would eventually drive me to the edge of madness... As expected she counter argued by attempting to explain to me that she had no eyes for anyone else but me and I had nothing to worry about. When what had started off as civil ized pleas suddenly began turning violent as a result of my non budging, I decided to put an end to the entire argument by bringing up the fact that I was now starting to doubt any form of future with a woman who did not understand the idea of sacrifice when it came down to the building of something worth while in life. Out of fear of completely losing me, she would slowly start to come back to her senses following the rather vivid reassurance that this upcoming change would not affect the nature of our relationship in any way shape or form... She would fall asleep on my chest with still a small flow of tears running down her face as I finished everything off by convincing her that moving back in with her mother was the best solution in the book. I sat there for a while admiring the results of my work. I was onto a new chapter of my college experi ence now; there would be no more holding back on anything in the name of shelter anymore. I was free as a bird to roam the sk ies on the hunt for my next pray...

CHUG!! CHUG!! CHUG!! I would move into my new humble abode three days following our initial visit. I set it up that way due to the fact that I wanted to spend a little quality time with Erica before the thought of being my girlfriend became borderl ine unbearable as it was inevitably soon to be. Not sure if it was in the effort of avoiding scandal or if it's because a small part of me felt guilty for having had her lead a bl ind life for the last six months... The day I moved in happened to coincide with my 20th birthday. When we realized that we had the whole house to ourselves , view the fact that my new roommates who I was still yet to meet had went home for the weekend, we decided to cancel our plans to go out for dinner that night and chose instead to opt for a quite night in. As she was making me dinner, I decided that it was only right to christen my new residence by bending her over the kitchen counter for a little chocolate covered dick appetizer... Following a love making session that looked like something out of a low budget barely legal porn flick, we sat down to a romantic candle lit din ner. Once dinner

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was done, she would proceed by doing the one thing I had prayed to the stars for for a little over a month at that point. She excused herself and decided to head home. I l ied in my bed that night dreaming of all the girls whose fathers I w as soon to shame in it. Hunting season had officially begun and I was eager to taste blood... Opportunity would come knocking the next afternoon following a Statistics class I would have ecstatically dropped for self -circumcision 101 if the latter was an option. Feeling tired and in a gloomy state caused by unfavorable Canadian January weather, I decided to skip the gym and head straight home. The moment I got off the bus and started walking towards what was now my new driveway, I noticed an array of automobiles that almost inched to the side-walk. I had two roommates who I was pretty positive did not own 8 vehicles between them. My new home was the set of a social gathering at 5 P.M on a Thursday night; my mood instantly shifted to unicorns and rainbows.. . I went to go insert my key in the front door but before I had had a chance to turn it, it swung open and behind it stood a man a little over 6ft. tall with conveniently arranged body fat that gave the illusion of a semi -regular fitness routine. I hadn't had a chance to introduce myself when he broke out in a gigantic smile and screamed: "Oh my god, you must be Rob. Our new roommate!!!" I nodded in concurrence as he proceeded to introduce himself as Clayton. "Dude, you gotta meet Forbes!! He is our other roommate." Following that slightly overzealous encounter, he immediately grabbed me by the wrist and proceeded to drag me through the living room which now looked like the set of a red plastic cups commercial. In the process of being dragged by a man who looked way too big and way too old to be playing with rag dolls at that moment, I made an attempt at a brief scan of the room .. To this day I still esteem myself a lucky man for never having been hit by lightning in a physical sense; but I can confidently say that I know exactly what it feels like due to the feeling that took over my body the moment I laid my eyes on Sarah... She stood at an impressive 5'9" in heels with the body of an obsessive jogger. Her legs were so toned to the point that there was absolutely no confusion as to where her quadriceps ended and where her hamstrings began. The painted on Camouflage colored fabric that she was trying to pass off as a mini -dress, played no guessing games as far as the absence of a bra behind it was concerned; all thanks to two sharp nipples that stood through her dress with the confidence of a championship boxer. A first look at her magnificent hazel eyes initially led me to

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believe that she was of some sort of Asian decent; the dark caramel skin however, would later help me conclude that she was Samoan... I had not reached the climax of a friendly Polynesian mud wrestling fantasy between Sarah and I when I felt a gentle poke in the rib from behind. "Hey man, this is Forbes!!" said Clayton, with a level o f excitement only reserved for Denzel Washington introductions. The man he pointed to immediately got up from what looked like a sl ightly heated poker game and extended his hand my way. "How are you doing brother, I'm Forbes." I couldn't explain why, but I immediately took a liking to his demeanor just based on those few little words. He had one of those vibes that just got women wet at hello. A cool, calm collected aura that just insisted on screaming to the world that Forbes had transcended the majority o f all bare human needs... "I'm Robert, Nice meeting you" I said, in a slightly distracted fashion as every second I spent not feasting my eyes upon Sarah's angelical body felt like a year in Alcatraz. Following a testosterone charged handshake, I attempted to turn around in order to resume my originally scheduled programming, but was met with Forbes' insistence on holding on to my hand a little longer than etiquette dictates necessary. I threw a quick inquisitive look his way which he responded to with a smirk that oozed with an unhealthy amount of certainty then said: "You like her don't you?" I debated answering that question in all honesty by admitting to Forbes that I would gladly strip naked and run through a Church during Sunday mass for a chance at giving her cunnilingus, but stopped myself due to the fact that I was yet to know Forbes's views on blasphemy or even worse, the possibility of it being a trick question to see if I was attracted to his girlfriend in case she might have been. Instead I decided to seek refuge behind a nonchalant smile and said: "Umm.. like is a big word view the fact that I don't even know her name but I will admit that she definitely is a sight for sore eyes. Is she your girlfriend?" Upon the completion of my inquiry, Fo rbes proceeded to deny the fact fervently. That instant had the same feeling as that moment you finally reach a bathroom after dancing your way to it due to a bladder that ex ceeds capacity. The sense of relief on my face was unmistakable; to the point that the smile that rose from it attracted eyes that had not been anywhere close to the conversation. Forbes would notice it too and upon doing so, he decided that the appropriate thing to do was to pull me to the side for a few words of wisdom on why I should curb my enthusiasm as far as Sarah was concerned...

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With the look of a parent right about to reveal to their child that they are adopted, he rested his giant hand on my shoulder and said: "Bro trust me, you have better luck squeezing Champagne out of a homeless guy's big toe before your dick can make it anywhere near that girl." In my mind at that moment, it felt like he had just slapped me across the face with a white cotton glove and asked me to pick my weapon of choice; this was nothing short of a cha llenge and I happened to live for those. "What is she? like the local head nun or something?" I asked, out of strategic curiosity... Forbes would go on to tell me how she had been dating a professional Hockey player on and off for the last three years an d despite the fact that she very often voiced to her girlfriends how unhappy she was in the relationship sometimes, she still had managed to send each eligible bachelor with enough balls to approach her packing; including Forbes. I stood there immobile for a few minutes hanging on to every tiny detail of his story. If I was going to make my run at what many in that room I had just found out considered the holly grail, then it was my duty to gather as much intel as I could view the fact that Law number 29 of my code dictated that I had to plan all the way to the end... Following Forbes's story, I excused myself for a brief moment and made my way to my room in order to get rid of a few belongings that I still had on me from my day at school. After making my way through at least ten people who had decided to use my stairwell as an assembly hall, I finally reached my room, closed the door behind me, sat on the bed and began formulating a plan. I had to have her; not just due to the fact that she looked like she had crawled out of a Sports illustrated swim suit edition ten minutes before the party, but also because I needed those brownie points with my roommates; and what better way to earn them than by sullying the sanctity of the one they considered the ultimat e catch with a few ounces of my man juice on her face?... After a few reflective minutes in my room, it quickly became evident that the fact that they considered this girl a goddess had been their initial mistake all along. She was inaccessible not due to the fact that she was an uptight bitch with a rich boyfriend, but because she had lived the majority of her life on a pedestal raised and upheld by anything around her with a penis. Add that to the fact that she was associated with a man the majority of s ociety classifies as an Alpha male and there you have it. No one dared to approach her and those who did were going about it with the tact and finesse of a rhino in a fine China store due to the pre-conceived rejection that they expected from her before sh e even opened her mouth. My job was to break the cycle...

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In reality, she most likely was another one of those misunderstood pretty girls that had had to learn to put her guard up at all time when it came to men simply due to the fact that they saw nothing in her passed her amazing curves and tantalizing smile. All she needed was someone who was willing to dig a little deeper. I would find some solace in the notion that her boyfriend being a professional athlete probably meant that she was often lonely an d if I could get her to trust me that evening, there would be no need for her to rummage through her sex toys drawer later on. But first I needed an opener... I immediately decided to make my way back upstairs in order to get started on the slaying of my newest pray. Following a few hellos and introductions to some other guests in the party from a highly inebriated Clayton at that point, I turned around to find her in a corner skimming through a large collection of CDs and DVDs. In that moment I would decide to walk up to her and say hi but one more look at her quickly revealed to me that this was not the type of woman whose attention could be grabbed with a simple Hello. I needed something poignant, something that would make me stand out from the crowd of disillusioned men whose hearts she was in the habit of breaking... I stood immobile for a few minutes, drilling my mind for a good opener in the middle of a circle of hipsters who were in the midst of hanging on to every word that came out of the mouth of frail looking blond kid busy arguing the legitimacy of the Jewish occupation of the Gaza strip until the perfect ice br eaker made it's way to my brain. My research having concluded that she was of Samoan descent, I decided to pull out my cell phone and google the Hello equivalent in her dialect. The answer would pop on my screen in the fraction of a second, leaving me to wonder how the men who had had to play the field before the age of information could have possibly been successful... Upon my discovery, I immediately excused myself from the circle and began walking towards Sarah. At this point she was nose deep in the back cover description of Boy meets World. I made my way behind her without her noticing then very gently whispered in her ear: "Talofa ." A sudden radiant smile immediately took possession of her face and she quickly turned around to uncover who was this fellow country man behind her; but upon laying her eyes on me and quickly concluding that in no way shape or form her and I could both b e from the island, the pleasantly surprised look on her face quickly morphed into an intrigued one. Which had been my objective all along... "You speak Samoan?" she asked, having a hard time masking the fact that no one had ever approached her this way. I then smiled and said: "As a matter of fact

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I do." she couldn't help but laugh and call me out on my blatant lie. "You are a liar" she said, as the smile on her face was getting bigger and wider. "Nah, I'm just flirting. There is a strong difference" I re pl ied, while taking a step closer and extending my hand to shake hers. "I'm Roby, Forbes' and Clayton's new roommate. What's your name sweetheart?" She then said her name and proceeded to go shake my hand which I then quickly drew back leaving her in a sli ght state of shock... "See, I grew up in Europe; and over there when you meet a beautiful woman, it is customary to do the three cheek kisses and I happen to be a firm believer in the upkeep of customs" I said, praying to God that this overly forward appr oach wouldn't end up being a turn off. On the contrary however, she laughed and said: "Without customs all we are left with is indeed chaos; I can sympathize." She then made the first move by very gently kissing my left cheek, then my right and back to my left leaving me hypnotized by the scent of a perfume whose name I couldn't recognize, but smelled like a mix of Vanilla and peace on earth. I was in... My next move was to establish my authority as an Alpha male; by showing her that contrary to the popular belief that any man to gaze in her eyes is instantly taken under her spell, forever doomed to bid to each and every single one of her demands, I on the other hand had no intention of walking the beaten path. "Hey tell you what, why don't you grab us a drink and I will put these back in order" I said, pointing at the stack of DVDs that was now scattered all over the shelf... Her initial reaction indicated early signs of resistance, but when I intensified my eye contact and held hers in a gentle yet commanding silence, she couldn't help but budge as she threw a smirk my way and started walking towards the kitchen. I felt a considerable amount of relief in that moment as I slowly exhaled; quite pleased with the way my plan was unfolding. It was still too e arly to claim victory but with the way things were going it wouldn't be too long before I had her convinced that cool kids now saved horses by riding cowboys instead; preferably on top of toilet seats... She would reappear a few minutes later holding tw o red plastic cups half way filled with a light brown beverage. Upon taking a first sip, I real ized it was a very well mixed Whiskey and ginger ale; one of my favorite drinks. But instead of congratulating her on a majestically well concocted potion, I dec ided to do the opposite. "Ewww, what is this?" I said, attempting to act out a level of disgust purely drawn from the confines of my own mind. The shock on her face was palpable as she revealed the name of the mix to me in the tone of a child whose mother had just deemed its' mother's day collage sub par...

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"Did you make yourself one of these too?" I asked, in a tone that made it sound borderl ine blasphemous to put a plastic cup to such waist. But before she had had a chance to fire back with a snotty answer as she was prepared to do in that moment in order to salvage the little grace I had not robbed her of thr ough my thanklessness, I dipped my index finger all the way to the bottom of her cup and proceeded by putting it in my mouth in the effort of testi ng the harshness levels of the drink she had just made herself. "You are so gross!!!" she exclaimed, now attempting her hardest to suppress a laugh... "Yours is actually a lot lighter; are you trying to get me drunk in order to take advantage of me Sarah?"I said, as I finally watched her explode in the laughter she had tried so hard to suppress. The sound of her her innocent chuckles had the feel of a harp concerto; for an instant , I even felt like I might want a lot more than the sheer pleasure of mounting her curves. In that moment , I felt a need to protect her, care for her, with no expectations of any reward other than the occasional sound of her divine laugh. Caught up in the haze, I even debated telling her how I was feeling; but real ity would quickly snatch me back by reminding me that Law number 4 of my code insisted that I said absolutely less than necessary. She had been destined to be nothing more than another notch on my belt from the get go... "You know what? here. You touched it, now it's you rs" she said, as she grabbed the cup in my hand replacing it with the one that now had my fingerprints at the bottom of it. She then took a sip out of the cup that was now formerly known as mine and said: "Pussy; This is nothing," with the faked confidence of a man who was in the habit of pouring Kerosene on his cereal.. "You know, in certain cultures that is technically considered our first kiss" I said, pointing at my cup that was still firmly held in her hands. She made another futile attempt at seeming appalled by yet another one of my statements that clearly crossed the line, but utterly failed to mask her amusement... "I have a boyfriend you know!!" she said, as she laughed and gave me a slight tap on the shoulder that blatantly screamed indicator of interest. Those words had seen multiple contestants tuck their tale in between their legs and take off running. Especially because her boyfriend was a public figure; they would just throw in the towel out of the fear of picking a fight they had been doome d to lose from the moment they thought of stepping in the ring. But not me; this is where everything now came together. The whole point of these last few exercises, had been to condition her into being ok with me crossing certain lines no other man had been in the habit of, in order to prepare her for my crossing of the ultimate line; her panty line...

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"How interesting; I have a blowfish myself !!!" I replied, in an attempt to disguise what clearly seemed l ike arrogance as an innocently confused statement. She gave me a puzzled look failing to see how my ownership of a blowfish could possibly be related to her current relationship status. "What?" she asked, chuckl ing in confusion. "Oh I'm sorry, I thought we were playing name things that don't matter right this moment." As I was finishing my statement , she was attempting to take another sip of her drink but exploded in laughter while doing so, which saw a considerable amount of whiskey rush through her nose and spill all over her chest. I immediately saw this as the perfect opportunity to isolate... "Dick!!!" she screamed, laughing in a slightly inebriated manner. "Hey it's not my fault you can't handle your liquor, no pun intended. Come with me, let's go clean you up." I extended my hand and she grabbed it almost immediately as I started guiding her through a sea of drunken college kids, on the hunt for the nearest bathroom. As I walked passed the dinning room table, Forbes and I managed to make eye contact and it was as if time had just frozen. It felt lik e a perfect movie moment; I couldn't help but wink at him almost obnoxiously as I walked by with the woman he often fantasized about late in the night, while enjoying some qual ity time with any form of petroleum jelly based product. Once we got to the bathroom, I asked her to take a seat on top of the closed toilet bowl as I slightly wet a hand towel with luke warm water. Upon having drained it from any extra water, I crouched down and got on my knees in a way that now saw our faces in a parallel positio n and inches away from each other. "Have you done this before?" she asked, in a humorously concerned tone. "Yes, trust me; I'm a doctor." I replied, gently running the warm towel on her upper chest. I could hear her breathing getting heavier and more sporadic with excitement with each brush of the towel and I was loving it. It was now time to dot the I's... I inched my head closer to her chest and slowly looked up to lock eyes with her extensively dilated light brown pupils; the attraction was undeniable. It wasn't long before our animalistic instincts took over and in a moment of heated passion , we both rushed for each other's lips as if our bodies were the last source of oxygen left on earth. For an instant , I thought my heart was trying to pound its way out of my chest;neither of us could no longer bare the intensity of the moment as our lips brushed against each other in celestine harmony... I began to slowly slide my hands up the side of her thighs all the way through her tight camo dress until both my palms came in contact with her astonishing cheeks. She instantly spread her legs and I pulled her closer to my pelvis while still

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tongue teasing each other's Uvulas. Once my manhood officially declared war on my zipper, I lifted her off the toilet seat an d made a spin move while her legs were still wrapped around my waist, in order to take the seat she had been occupying... The second I sat down she proceeded to unzip my pants and begun a series of slow strokes that saw the gentleman downstairs grow a fe w never before seen inches. I couldn't take it anymore; I wanted to be inside of her more than anything I had ever wanted in life up until that moment. As if she had read my mind, she reached inside her dress to push her tiny G -string to the side as she put the tip of my cock on the edge of her tiny moist lips. The beast in me would immediately take over as I penetrated her slowly and she moaned in appreciation... "Fuck me slow; I wanna feel all of you..." Those few words would lead her on a slow yet highly passionate joy ride on my pogo stick that included a fair bit of neck biting and steamy back scratching. We would then finally climax together in a kiss that left both our bodies shaking uncontrollably with pleasure... Reality however, would come back l iterally knocking in the form of a disgruntled, highly intoxicated, party guest who did not shy away from voicing his concern on the fact that we had exceeded all socially allowable lavatory occupancy time frames. "What the fuck is going on in there? I gotta go bad dude!!!" I was still inside of her when she let out a few embarrassed chuckles that made me get deeper than anticipated, to which she responded by biting her lip and kissing me passionately. Once our genitals had bed each other farewell, I rezi pped my pants and went on to address the individual begging outside the bathroom door for a chance at taking care of some basic bodily functions. "There is a lady in there big guy; I think you should give her a minute or two to powder her nose" I said, as I winked at his congratulatory smirk and started walking back towards the living room... I had not reached the end of the corridor that separated the kitchen from the living area when I felt a heavy hand grab me by the shoulder. "You dirty bastard!!! You actually did it!!! You haven't even been here for two hours and you have already bent over the one girl every man in this party would actually give their left nut for, myself included!! Like, what the fuck did you possibly say to her??" I thought about answering Forbes' inquiry by providing a detailed play by play on how I had orchestrated an interaction highly charged with strong emotional contrasts that set me apart from all pretenders to the throne, until Law number 30 of my code came to mind; and it dictated that I must make all my accomplishments seem effortless...

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"I don't know dude, I said Hi and asked her if she wanted a drink" I responded, in an innocently nonchalant tone. For a second, I thought his jaw had dropped to the ground as he deeply analyzed me through a series of elaborate full body scans then said: "Dude, who are you?" that moment, I suddenly realized that I had just became the new big swinging dick on campus; or at least within my roommates' eyes and their circle of friends. But this w as university; news l ike this came with wings and I intended to enjoy all the referral vagina that was bound to come out of this situation...

"You are in the game now kid"... The few weeks that followed moving day were nothing short of epic; a clear indicator that I was in for a sweet ride as far as the second semester of my freshman year was concerned. I had quickly infiltrated my roommates' circle of friends due to the ease with which my tale of conquest had spread all over campus like wild fire. As a result, I was now the new head honcho in town; the decipherer of the undecipherable, even the chick whisperer in certain circles. At a certain point, my fame had grown to a standard that now often saw herds of college boys flocking towards me in school hallways for tips on how to increase their sexual kill count... At first, I had a hard time welcoming that much attention view the fact that I was used to operating in the shadows, under the unsuspecting radar of my victims; but Law number 27 of my code required me to play on people's need to bel ieve in order to create a cult-like following. It wouldn't be long until I was the most popular guy on campus. To the point where my roommates one day decided to throw me a surprise 20th belated birthday party that wa s attended by close to four hundred people; ten of those being university faculty members. I was on top of the world; and as if that night could not have gotten any better, in her attempt to attend my party, Erica would find out the following day thr ough a friend of hers that was in attendance, that she was denied access by Forbes who had decided to take it upon himself to play bouncer that evening, because I was too preoccupied by a threesome with two Korean girls to tend to her inquisitive text messages.. . The following day we would sit down for a very awkward and hung over lunch during which she was not shy of expressing how much of a dirt bag she thought I was. I debated an attempt at trying to salvage whatever was left of our relationship but failed to see a need for it. Instead, I decided to resort to the use of selective honesty as outlined by Law number 12 of my code and just came clean about the previous night's events. In anger, she would smash a plate and storm out 164

of the restaurant never to talk to me again. I was now a free man on all ends of the spectrum; all at the cost of a broken plate... My new found freedom would lead me on a journey paved with keggers and horny college girls that now pounced on anything of African decent , since Obama had just made us the new it balls to gobble by taking office as the first black president of the United States. Life had now become an amusement park in which I was both the excited child and the main attraction.. But just how all new car smell must one day fade, my journey in wonderland had been long overdue of a serious reality check. Which came in the form of a petrifying credit card statement... Partying six nights a week was not cheap, even if it meant drinking two dollar beers until rendered unconscious. Add that to the coast of food, shelter, transportation and all other miscellaneous spending that is easily and quickly justified in the mind of an impulsive narcissistic 20 year old, and before long I was five thousand dollars in credit card debt. My stu dent loan had ran out a month into my second semester and the option of turning towards my parents for help had been quickly ruled out by the fact that the first thing they would inquire about was how I was doing in school; and they would most likely not l ike the answer. I now had no choice but find a part-time job if I wanted to make rent the following month... It was now mid-April and finals were fast approaching. It became quickly evident that I had some serious catching up to do; the partying had caug ht up with me due to a 40% class attendance record that had been caused by the fact that I barely went to any classes scheduled before noon; which happened to equate to half of my timetable, as I was horribly hungover half the time. I had missed out on a few key assignments and tests which held quite some weight and now even if I crunched down and moved into the school library, the best I could possibly hope for was a passing grade. At this point , prioritizing was key... In that moment, I decided that find ing a job was my number one priority. Mainly due to the many vivid nightmares of moving back home for the summer and getting constantly chastised by my parents for my poor school marks which haunted me at night on an almost daily basis . I would've gladly opted for a summer of forced labor as opposed to the latter... Looking for a job however, revealed itself to be an uneasy task; I had never gotten one before. My father was a firm believer that a child's job should and only be school. Anything else was a d istraction if you had a roof over your head. Add that to a suffering economy and I might as well been hunting for the L och ness

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monster if I was hoping to find a job in a town as small as St. Catharines Ontario. I had quite the task cut out for me... First things first, I needed a resume. My lack of any form of work experience however, left way too many empty boxes; I had to make one up. My next move was to engage into a substantial amount of research on what were the predominant industries within the city itself in order to cater my resume to the highest prospective employer. What Google rendered instilled a bit of hope.. Call Centers; St. Catharines was the town of call centers. With a total population of a hundred thirty thousand people, a little over tw enty five percent of said demographic was employed by one of the 5 major call centers that had decided to call St. Catharines a home. They catered exclusively to companies that took pride in the fact that if the person on the other end of the line claiming to be their representative told you his name was Richard, you wouldn't have any trouble believing them because they actually sounded l ike a Richard... I figured this was a great sign as call centers involved talking to people and I esteemed myself fairly good at that. I proceeded by fabricating a bullet proof resume that outlined a vast array of call center experience that conveniently dated from back to when I lived in V irginia. Once it came time to list my references, I indicated their availabil ity upon request and figured I would dazzle my way through the interview to the point where they wouldn't be needed. Little I knew at the time, the universe had concocted a plan that would see me no where even close... Immediately following my elaborate fabrication of work experience, what ensued was a week long process of handing out resumes and filling out applications. I felt confident in my abil ities to nail any prospective interviews due to several hours of internet research on what it took to make employee o f the month at a call center. Destiny would come knocking one late April afternoon when I walked through the glass doors of a building that housed a call center by the name of SITEL. I had found out through word of mouth that they had just launched an outbound call campaign for TV cable giant Comcast. This felt right as my resume outlined some past make-believe experience with their fierce competitor Direct TV... Upon my entrance through the doors, I was immediately greeted by a man who looked like he struggled with shoe laces. He identified himself as building security and proceeded to inquire about the nature of my visit. I explained to him that I was there to apply for a job; without a single word, he lifted my arms and held them in a suspended parallel position, asked me to spread my legs and started

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running a metal detector up and down my entire body. Once he had made sure that I wasn't there to slaughter some infidels, he pointed at my pocket and asked me to put my cell phone in a basket until I had fi nished handing in my application... "What is this? Communist China?" I responded, genuinely confused as to why there was a need for such drastic measures. He rolled his eyes in an effort to show me to what extent my smart-ass comment had failed to amuse him, then went on to explain how it was policy due to the fact that the call center handled large amounts of sensitive client personal information. He then pointed me to an elevator and indicated to me that human resources was on the 15th floor... The elevator doors would part open to see me greeted by a long line of other hopeful applicants beside which I would wait fifteen minutes before handing my application to a high pitched voice woman who indicated that i if I met all necessary selection criterias, I would receive a call from another woman named Theresa.. As the elevator doors closed behind me, I felt like so were my chances; I had omitted to take the competition into consideration, apparently I wasn't the only one trying to stay in town for the sum mer... I grabbed my cell phone out of the basket and bed a nonchalant farewell to the security guard as I simultaneously opened one of the three text messages I had received while upstairs. The first text was from a tight bodied l ittle third year Yoga fiend brunette named Kelly, asking if I was free for dinner that night. The thought of ripping her fitted spandex off her flexible curves with my own bare teeth immediately reversed my elevator blues. I instantly started typing a response as I slightly skipped towards the main entrance glass doors. Typing with both hands, I leaned my shoulder in the glass door to push it open while my eyes were dead locked on the screen of my phone; that's when the universe decided to put my multi-tasking skills to the test... I felt the door swinging as I weighed on it, instantly followed by a loud bang and a petrified screech. Startled, I barely saved my cell phone from landing on the ground while witnessing a woman spill a quarter of a travel mug full of hot coffee on a blazer that looked like it had the cost equivalent of a year worth of rent.. She looked in her late thirties; thirty nine if I had to guess. Dazzling natural red hair that was done up in a pony tail that graciously exposed her slim neck. The gym bag hanging from her left shoulder vouched for the existence of some sort of fitness routine; but the hour glass curves that complimented a pair sinfully long legs, were a true testament to her dedication. But the worst was yet to happen... In an attempt to put some space between herself and the scorching spillage, she let go of the travel mug which landed sharp edge first dead smack on her toes; 167

they were sticking out of her nude designer high heels, painted in candy apple red nail polish. She took off on a one leg sk ipping spree, screaming on top of her lungs the type of obscenities that would have surely earned her a ticket in a school zone. Too stunned to come up with a plan of action, I would resort to a series of frantic apologies as I instinctively walked towards her. Once I made it within reaching distance, I tried to offer her a hand which unsurprisingly, she dismissed rather fervently... "Would you mind watching where the fuck you are going please?!?!" she yelled, as her face got more and more red as she tried to wipe the coffee off her blouse with a gym towel she had just gotten out of her bag. I attempted to formulate a sensible explanation for what had just happened but all that came out was a series of inaudible banalities. "Look, I'm sorry, I was in there applying for a job, I wasn't paying attention.." but before I had had a chance to put a stop to the verbal diarrhea that was coming out of my mouth at an alarming speed, she would stop me and put a sword right through my chest... "Where did you just apply? SITEL?" she inquired, in an imperative tone. "Yea I just dropped off my resume a minute ago, look I'm sorry.." Before I had had a chance to conclude yet another apology however, she interjected again. "What's your name?" she asked, maintaining an intimidating consistency of her imperative tone. "Robert; Robert Mudenge. What's yours?" I replied, hoping that the exchange of some personal information would ease the tension.. That would be the moment fate would orient my life on a course I would never in a mi llion years have imagined myself on... "Theresa; Theresa Jones. I am the hiring manager at SITEL; don't bother expecting a call.." Following the atomical demolition of the only plausible shot I had at finding employment in a city over-saturated with over qualified jobless university graduates, Theresa walked away towards the glass doors; leaving me immobilized by shock.. It wasn't long before shock turned to anger; I chucked the envelop full of resumes I intended to hand out that day across the street and started walking towards the nearest bus stop with a defeated and uncertain step... I quickly flashed my student bus pass to the driver, took a seat in the far back corner and lied my head on the window. I was going to spend my summer explaining my coming and goings to a father who expected me to spend it in my room mourning the loss of an entire school year. My glory days were now at their dawn. Even the feel of the warm spring sunrays reflecting off the window were not enough to soothe my wounded soul in that moment. Once the bus had reached my

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nearest stop, I cl imbed off and began walking home not knowing that life as I had planned it for myself was about to change in the most drastic of all man ners...

Before reaching home, I decided to stop at a nearby convenience store for the purpose of easing my pain by feeding it Nicotine. After buying a Belmont King size pack, I ripped it open, lit a smoke and began walking home again. When I arrived within three hundred meters of the house, my attention was quickl y taken away from my misery by a car parked in the driveway that I failed to recognize as one of my roommates'. When I finally reached the driveway, I immediately understood why. It was the most beautiful car I had ever laid my eyes on... It was a black 2008 Mercedes Benz CL550 coupe. For a brief moment, I froze in my tracks; feel ing almost afraid that I wasn't worthy of coming any closer to such a beautiful machine. I started taking a few shy steps in its direction as I took slow admiring drags of my cigarette. I then slowly began running my fingers on what looked like a week old paint job as I admired the 22" custom AMG rims it graciously sat on. The interior would take my breath away. The front seats consisted of two custom made rally seats in red and black colored leather; with the initials "KR" engraved in all 5 headrests with a golden stitch... The red dashboard elegantly supported a half woodgrain half black leather steering wheel with a few aesthetically placed command buttons that surrounded a platinum Mercedes emblem. The 10" interior navigation screen below which sat a titanium gear shifting stick, gave the entire car the feel of a space ship. For a second, I began fantasizing about romancing a beautiful woman on the as well red and black leather backseat, which looked like it had been engineered with only comfort and luxury in mind.. This had just undoubtedly became the car of my dreams; following that realization however, it quickly dawned on me that I was lightyears away from the type of funds that could afford me a car like this.. But in reality looking back now, nothing could have been further from the truth... I took a slow step back in order to take one final gaze at the majestic exterior of the car, when my mind decided to travel down memor y lane back to a time when two benzs graced the gigantic driveway of my parents' estate. That time was now long gone; l ife now consisted of public transportation and credit card debt. For a long time, I had found solace in the notion that if I worked hard in university and made it to Law school, all my financial ambitions would be met by a flourishing Law career. But the reality was that with a raise in the retirement age due to a struggling economy, unemployment was at an all time high, which saw more than half of all university graduates resorting back to the fast food restaurant job s 169

they held in high school. The only difference was that they now had fifty thousand dollars in student loans... The voice in my head kept telling me that there had to be a be tter, faster way; but I would come up blank whenever I tried mining my brain for it. I was tired of this average life, my need to go back to the luxurious life I had once known burned through the skin on my chest l ike a scorching stamping iron. By the time I finished throwing out my cigarette and tossing in a few final glances at a car that looked like it was made out of the laughter of children, my sense of defeat from earlier's events had quadrupled in size. I turned to face the house and began dragging my feet towards the door; I had just made the decision to nap my sorrows away. Yet little I knew, I was right about to meet the man the universe had chosen as the instrument in its plan for me... I opened the screen door and walked through the front one which had been left open to let in the breeze. I then made my way through the foyer to the sound of the TV broadcasting what sounded like a soccer game. Right when I was about to turn the corner that led into the livingroom however, my eye was caught by a black and white checkered Danier leather duffle bag. After throwing a few envious looks its way, I finally entered the living room where I was immediately greeted by a slightly intoxicated Forbes: "Rob!! Whatsup big guy? Come watch the game with us." On the couch beside Forbes sat an even drunker Clayton that was in the midst of pouring the last of two empty Hennessy bottles in three shot glasses... The third shot glass belonged to a young light skin black guy with a medium well shaped build and tattoo sleeves on both arms that was sitting in a lazy boy chair facing the TV. His attire immediately caught my attention; he looked and smelled like money. Dressed in a white Gucci V neck t-shirt, which he had complimented with similar colored sweat pants from the s ame designer, and a pair of velvet blue Louis Vuitton loafers. He sat holding a glass of Hennessy on the rocks. The large yellow canary diamond ring he wore on his pinky ring reflected the outside sunrays, creating subtle pr ismatic colors in the room. The cherry on top of the cake however, was a rose gold Jesus piece diamond chain that hung around his neck as a testimony to how much disposable income he had. When I was almost on the verge of concluding my observational study of this man I had never seen before, Forbes interjected again: "Geez, where are my manors? Rob, this is my good friend Kevin. Kevin, this is Rob my other roommate.."

Kevin Regis, also known in the streets as Talladega Kev, was not only the youngest but also the first none fully Italian man, as his mother was of Sicilian 170

decent and his father from Congo, to hold the title of Capo for the Maggadino crime family. Which runs the majority of all the drug traffic from Buffalo NY in the U.S all the way to Toronto Ontario in Canada. He had earn ed his nickname due to a series of highly publicized police speed chases in which he always happened to see himself out of, despite the odds being overwhelmingly against him. A native of the niagara region, Kevin would drop out of high school at the end of his junior year to pursue a career as a night club DJ... His days as a disc jockey would however be short lived due to a competitive market that was oversaturated by a large number of young men his age with similar ambitions. Despite being faced with the sobering reality that he may have wasted two years of his young l ife chasing a mirage, his nights in dance and strip clubs had earned him one very important asset; connections . And they were about to pay off... One Saturday evening, following a highly charged set at a Niagara falls night club, Kevin decided to head home. But while walking to his car, he was confronted by a group of three guys whose one member claimed that Kevin had slept with his wife. What started off as a strong exchange of words would quickly escalade into a rather vivid fisticuff that would see two of the three members sent to the hospital badly battered..What had initially presented itself as yet another assault charge on Kevin's already not so immaculate record, would however turn out to be a blessing in disguise... A few feet not that far from where Kevin was busy telling an insecure man that his wife was a whore anyway and that he was better off without her, had been standing a man and two of his muscle eagerly waiting for Kevin' s brains to decorate the pavement after what they had initially anticipated to be a sheer stomping party. When reality turned out to be the complete opposite of what they had expected, the man decided to approach the kid who had just managed to viciously headbutt his way through three decent size guys while holding DJ equipment... The man in question was Dominic Pugliesi, also known on the street as "Dom." He was the Capo of the Hamilton charter of the Magaddino crime family, he had been in the area for a collection. A very powerful and even more ruthless man, he oversaw the Southern Ontario rackets with the precision of a hawk and an iron fist. His admiration for Kevin standing up for himself in the face of danger would see him offering his patronage to te ach him the ins and outs of organized crime. Before long, Kevin was rising through the ranks due to his zeal when it came down to forced collections, as well as his escape driving abilities. Dom would continue to

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mold Kevin in his image for a few years until he was sent to prison for ten years in 2003 for aggravated arson, launching Kev onto the reins of the Hamilton charter overnight... Fast forward to that day and Kevin was now 28 years old, running three promotion companies that served as shell corporat ions for the laundering of the funds he earned through drug trafficking and prostitution.. Following Forbes' introduction, he turned towards him with a bit of an uneasy look and said: "So, this is the dude?" in a tone that indicated that he had a hard time believing what he had just said. Forbes answered with a chuckle, lowered his voice for emphasis then said: "Yea man; this is the dude." Kevin would throw another curious look my way before getting up from the chair and walking towards me with his arm exte nded to shake my hand... "I am an admirer of your work" he said, as he held on and shook my hand enthusiastically. Slightly confused as to what he was exactly referring to, I laughed and inquired about what he meant by that. "My new theory of relativity paper won't be ready for publication until next year; what work are you talking about exactly?" My comment was met with a roar of laughter from every one in the room. Kevin turned around to go back to his seat then said: "I flew this bitch and her friends to Jamaica twice on my hard earned dollar in the last three years , and she still won't fuck me; is it true that you had only met her for the first time just a half hour prior?" In an instant, it all finally made sense to me. Kevin, just like Forbes and ma ny others before them, had been yet another casualty in the war of conquest for Sarah's heart. The slight difference in this case however, was the fact that Kevin Regis was no longer used to being said no to in such matters, as his name and bank account now held enough weight to weigh down any woman's panties with as little resistance as possible. His visit that day had little makings of a casual one, he wasn't there for some mid afternoon soccer; but rather to find answers to the one question that had been burning a hole in his ego since Forbes had shared my existence with him. "Who could she have possibly found more attractive than me?" "You would be surprised how much you can get to know someone in a half hour if you put your best foot forward" I replie d, with a smirk that walked a fine line between cool and offensive. The room erupted in yet another sea of laughter as everyone simultaneously summoned me to take a seat. I would do so beside Clayton as Kevin grabbed some ice out of a near by bucket, tosse d it in a scotch glass, poured a healthy amount of Hennessy on top, handed it to me and said:"Now cut the jokes, seriously, how did you do it?"

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Something about his tone in that moment would give me the weird impression that he wasn't just asking for the sake of conversation. He expected an answer and at that a good and logical one; Kevin Regis wasn't the type of guy to see his expectations unmet.. Unfortunately for him however, Law number 30 of my code required me to make my all my accomplishments seem eff ortless; I couldn't give him what he wanted.. I smiled as a way to buy time in order to think of something clever to say, but before I had opened my mouth, Kevin would interject again in a way that saw me stepping out of character and completely going agai nst the instructions of my code for the first time since it had came into my life... "I mean dude, you are just a student. You have no money, no cars, no job I'm assuming, you are in decent shape but nothing really special, I mean what could she have possibly seen in you?" he asked, with such a genuinely inquisitive look that almost completely eclipsed the malice that lied in his words; emphasis on almost.. Taken aback by what I perceived in that moment as a clear and premeditated direct attack on my perso n, I would obnoxiously chuckle at his at his response and kindly return the favor... "Maybe she just sees you as nothing more than an ATM Kev. Although she probably appreciates your convenience just like anybody else, but no girl likes to blow an ATM; they are heavy.." What followed my comment was an almost synchronized uproar from Clayton and Forbes as acknowledgment to the sting it must just have made Kevin feel. "Oh Dude!! Heavy fucking burnnn!!!" yelled Clayton, as our palms collided in a loud congratulatory handshake.. Once the euphoria had dissipated however, I would come to find out that not every one had caught the punch line on that one, in a manner that clearly suggested that I should put an immediate stop to any further aspirations to a career in comedy if I knew what was good for my health... Following a kudos fist bump from Forbes, I turned to Kevin and landed direct eye contact.. He then very slowly broke into a smirk that clearly indicated the presence of a homicidal thought or two, then at a n even slower speed, raised his glass to his mouth in order to take a light sip of its content. As he slowly lowered it off his lips while waiting for the room to quite down, he would raise his index finger at me with a look on his face that left no room f or doubt that the next words that were about to come out of his mouth, would most likely be a series of threats that were not to be taken lightly... "First of all, don't call me Kev. You and I are not friends ; yet. Secondly, you should be more careful playing around an ATM funny guy. It might land on you; and I'm sure you don't want that. They are heavy.." Before I had had a chance to

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process what was a clear warning that I should curb the jokes or else, Forbes would immediately jump in in an attempt to ease the tension in a room in which it was now starting to grow at an aggressive rate. "Alright, let's keep it in our pants boys; easy does it." His comment received no sign of reception from Kevin and I as we were still in dead lock eye contact... I started taking a discreet closer look at his tattoos; the gang related vibe that they gave me, added to the demeanor of a man who was not scared of threatening a complete stranger in his own home of physical harm over futil ities, made the recipe for an uneasy feeling that now made me regret stepping outside my code. Not only had I broken Law number 30, but my actions had also proven themselves to be a blatant disregard of Law number 19 of my code: "Know who you are dealing with- do not offend the wrong person." I now had to come up with a way of mending the situation; something about Kevin profoundly intrigued me. I was starting to develop a curiosity for the source of such poised and dominating confidence... "She is used to what you are doing, all I did was sho w her that I was different.." In an instant, I decided it wise to give him what he wanted; not as an act of cowardice intended to shield myself from harm, but rather as an application of one the simplest yet most fundamental rules of the universe: "recipro city." That rule that dictates that when you give a human being something, subconsciously they feel the need to give you something back; and my instinct kept telling me that this man could give me something I wanted, I just did not know what... I held my breath hoping that he had not just taken offense to my latest statement. I watched him open his mouth but felt like the words took a year to come out.. "What do you mean?" he asked, in the tone of a child that was finally about to find out why the sky is blue. A certain sense of relief took over me, there were still a chance to build rapport. That same sense of relief however, would reveal itself to be quite ephemeral the moment I realized that for the first time in as far long as I could remember, I was about to let someone into the confines of my psyche. I had never shared my thought process with anyone before , not only because Law number 38 of my code instructed me to think how I liked but required me to behave like others, but also due to the fear of bei ng considered manipulative by the general public. I had no idea where or how to start so I just went for it. Law number 28 of my code insisted that I had to enter action with boldness... What followed was an almost three hour long tutorial on the art of s eduction. I went on to explain to him that the key to my success had been the fact that I used an unconventional approach to the whole thing; the type of approach she wasn't

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used to. Being from a wealthy family, men outside her social ranks found her intimidating and the ones in or above it felt the need to compete by showering her with the same luxury and excess she had been subjected to from birth. This rendered her extremely bored and lonely; even in a room full of admirers, because she had never had the chance to feel any different.. A curse unfairly cast upon many rich beautiful women all over the world.. I would end said tutorial with a detailed recount of our interaction; how I had managed to take her off her pedestal and into a world where I was in control of her feelings and emotions... The boys had sat there listening, hanging on to every word that came out of my mouth as if I had been in the midst of unveiling a third testament. Kevin had nodded subconsciously to everything I had said at an almost uniform rate for the last thirty five minutes. I had went into such details that it took me a while to realize that it had actually gotten dark outside. Forbes and Clayton started going on about how I was some sort of machiavellian Jedi master and once they begun quieting down, Kevin let out a soft cough and said: "I need more people like you in my line of work..." At first, that statement made little sense to me because I still had no idea of what his exact line of work was. But I now knew why my instinc ts had insisted on my opening up. Needless to say, I was intrigued. Whatever he was doing was clearly working, everything about him screamed so. In that instant, I decided that I was willing to go as far as necessary to see Kevin teach me his ways if it me ant a shot at driving something similar to the godly chariot that now sat in my driveway at that moment.. "So what exactly do you do Kevin?" I asked, while refilling my then empty drink. He made quick eye contact with Forbes who was fast to look away with a naughty smile on his face; he then looked back at me and said: "Call me Kev; and better yet, why don't I just show you?" Ten minutes later, I was strapped up in his rally passenger seat, marveling to great extents at how unbelievably quite his car engin e was. It felt like riding in an invisible cloak. The inside of the car was dimly lit by the blue light from the navigation system's screen. I threw a quick glance at it as it started to dawn on me that I was in a car with a man I had perceived as a potent ial threat to my well being not long prior. The GPS red the final destination as an address in a town called Niagara on the lake, which sat about twenty minutes outside St. Catharines in suburban wine country. I tried to seek solace in the fact that if I w as going to be left for dead later on, at least it would be in an upscale neighborhood; emergency personnel tended to respond quicker in that neck of the woods. But alas the peace I sought never came; so I started probing for answers...

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"So what's with all the mystery? You wanna let me in on the where abouts of these oh so sacred grounds to which you are taking me?" I asked, trying my best to mask the uneasy feeling of being kidnapped that was now starting to make my armpits sweat profusely. A slightly cocky smile emerged from his facial expressions as he changed lanes from behind a small station wagon then said: "well you asked me what I do for a living, we need to get where we are going in order for me to show you." In that moment, I couldn't help but thi nk that his answer sounded l ike something that would come out of the mouth of a guy who drove a beat up white van up and down school zones all day long offering candy to small children. My patience was starting to wear thin; and I now wanted him to sense it... "Alright Kev look, I am not a stupid guy alright? I have managed to understand things just fine so far without the aid of props. So either tell me what it is that you do and where we are going, or pull over to the side of the road; I will wave cab home.." My menacing tone managed to chip a kink in his armor of cool and he said: "I know you are not stupid, that's precisely why you are sitting in my car right now.. Let's just say that I work in retail.." Unamused by his sub par answer, I snapped back in a tone that indicated my intolerance for any future half ass disclosures. "The retail of what exactly!?!" he took a few seconds before giving me an answer then said: "recreational pharmaceuticals.." One of the main distribution grounds for Kevin's drug e mpire had been the campus of Brock University. Due to a large portion of the fifteen thousand students and faculty who had elected cocaine as their drug of choice; Kevin needed someone on stand-by twenty four seven to cater to their increasing needs. The m an previously entrusted with this very high risk, high rewards task, was a 4th year psychology major that went by the name of Bilal.. He had came to Canada from Kuwait on a student visa with little to no money in his pock et, and a language barrier that rendered him borderline unemployable... With no way to make ends meet,he thought it would be a good idea to attempt supplementing his income through gambling the little he had left. Unable to pay his debts, Kevin would be put in charge of doing whatever he s aw fit to help him change his mind. Instead of busting his knee caps however, Kevin saw Bilal's misfortune as a potential opportunity to have cheap labor on campus that he could most importantly control. Before lon g, Bilal had not only paid off his debt to Kevin's bosses, but he was also raking in the type of money he had never seen before. It all seemed to be looking up for him as he was months away from earning his degree while living in comfort; until it all got to his head...

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All success comes with its own daemons; it's inevitable. Bilal's had been the development of a non-negligeable drinking habit. As the first member of his family to get out of Kuwait, a predominantly Islamic country, Bilal had never been exposed to alcohol until his entry to Canada. Once he got into the business, he now constantly found himself surrounded by it, view the fact that duty often required him to be at parties almost every night of the week. The result would be the man his low tolerance turned him into.. Being born in a we stern or western influenced culture has its perks, as far as the consumption of alcohol is concerned. The fact that we have been exposed to it dating far back to our oldest ancestors, enables us to develop a genetically pre-dispositioned high level of tolerance to it over time. Unfortunately this wasn't the case for poor Bilal... He was the first member of his family to be exposed to it and it showed in the fact that it only took two drinks to change him from a reserved, remotely social, innocently fresh off the boat international student , to this careless loudmouth that could barely keep life altering secrets to himself. To his great misfortune one night, he would have one of his alcohol induced transformations while sitting beside an undercover RCMP detective in a Niagara Falls strip club. After spending a good part of two hours giving what he didn't know was a cop, a long and detailed drunken confession, he would be woken up in the middle of the night two days later, by the combined efforts of an RCMP rai d team and the local K9 unit. Their findings in Bilal's apartment would constitute enough grounds to see him put on the first flight back to Kuwait without due judicial process; never to be heard from again... Kevin was now in a tricky position where he h ad to find a skilled and efficient replacement for Bilal before the wolves found out that his flock had been left unattended. And somehow, he seemed to believe that I was the man for the job.. The first thought to come to mind after finding this out was th at I was in no way shape or form cut out for this. I imagined the drug world as a world filled with violence; and that happened not to be my cup of tea. I then started wondering why me in particular; why had he chosen me of all people out of the sea of kids that he probably knew on campus? "So why me dude? I mean you don't even know me. What makes you think I can do this? Why not ask Forbes or Clayton?" I asked, praying to God to give me the strength to not physically assault him if he gave me an answer I judged unsatisfactory... He turned on his signal, then took a left onto the driveway of a white house that looked a little over 6500 sq. feet, held by massive pillars that gave it the feel of an old Greek temple from the outside. He then parked the car, p ushed the start button to kill the engine then said: "They are not as hungry as you are. I seen the

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way you were looking at my car earlier when you came home; that's the look of ambition, you can't fake it. You got a taste for the finer things in life, I j ust want to help you get them; while helping myself in the process as well of course." I had again found myself in the very rare position where I had a hard time reading someone; and it was starting to render me extremely confused... On one hand, my code had thought me to never take anything solely based on face value; everyone was pushing an agenda. On the other, I was contemplating an opportunity that could possibly see me begin my long overdue ascension back to the high financial status I had once cheri shed. I suddenly real ized why I couldn't read Kevin; I was too emotionally involved in the moment to be logical about anything that was going on.. "I don't know man, I never done anything l ike this before.." I said, starting to debate why I had not thought this car ride through.. In sight of my lack of belief, Kevin would then shift his entire body in his seat in order to face me directly. "Do you know why my mentor chose me?" he asked, while subtly emphasizing on a strategically placed dramatic pause. "I' m not sure, no" I responded, not really clear as to where he was going with this.. "He chose me because he l iked my brute force. But times have changed now; business is not done that way anymore. It now takes tact, finesse, the ability to be able to read p eople in order to move your agenda forward. And you have that, I can see it; just let me mold you into a millionaire..." Before I had had a chance to respond to what sounded like an indecent proposal, he put his hand up in request of my silence then said: "Dude look, you don't have to give me an answer right now. There is a party full of beautiful women in there, let's go in and if you don't have a good time I will drop you off at home at the end to never bug you about this again.." The voice in my head wo uld then make a futile attempt at instilling some reasoning in me, by insisting that something about this whole situation was fishy and that I was better off calling a cab and going home. But it was too late; he had had me at beautiful women. I smiled and opened the car door, which resulted in a look of relief creeping up Kevin's face. He then smiled back at me and said: "Good boy!" Seconds later, I found myself walking past what looked l ike the luxury show room at the Detroit auto show. There was a fleet of nearly fifteen luxury cars graciously scattered all over the wide all gravel driveway. They ranged from a 2007 Bentley GT coupe to a 2008 Rolls Royce Ghost all the way to a completely pink, fully loaded, 2006 Cadillac Escalade that sat on 22" alloy rims of the same color. My heart couldn't help but skip a beat at the thought of all this belonging to one man.. "Whose house is this?" I asked, hoping to find out that I was their

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illegitimate child.. The answer I received would be the final piece needed to launch my life onto a path that would have killed my mother on sight, if she had ever discovered me on it.. "The house and the majority of the cars are mine; some others belong to clients, I just don't live here nor drive any of themâ&#x20AC;Ś" Kevin Regis Enterprises, as he often liked to refer his operation by, generated profits for its shareholders through two major avenues; narcotics and prostitution. Although on the narcotics end of things he really was just nothing more than a Regional distributor for a major crime family, when it came down to the retail of companionship, Kevin was truly self-employed; a die-hard entrepreneur. He often used to say that above all else, he was just a Pimp; and was he ever good at it. Kevin's control of his women relied solely on one simple rule. Give them all they want; but never let them hold cash; because cash created an element of freedom, and freedom often led to insubordination. A perfect application of Law number 11 of my code: "Learn to keep people dependent on you.." Kevin would see an opportunity on the horizon the moment Dominic Pugliesi decided to put his five million dollar mansion that sat on a two acre vineyard on the market in order to prevent its seizure from the authorities once he had been convicted. Dom would give him a family discount that shortly after facilitated the birth of what many considered Niagara Falls' own Disneyland. The Regis House of Pleasures.. A fifteen bedroom luxury harem that housed some of the most exotic women in the region; often frequented by some of the biggest movers and shakers on the entire east coast United States and all of Canada. This was his baby... After a long walk down what seemed like an endless driveway, we finally reached a large black mahogany wooden front door which Kevin graced with two subtle knocks. Almost instantly, I heard a buzzing sound as the door opened to see us greeted by a man of gargantuan size in a black leather jacket holding a twelve gauge shotgun in his right hand. He looked like he had been living off gene tically modified breast milk for the last 20 years.. "That's Big Mike, don't mind the mean mug; he just takes his job way too seriously" said Kevin, as they traded a custom handshake. I paid Big Mike a courtesy nod as I continued following into Kevin's footsteps towards a second wooden black double door with two large sol id gold handles. As soon as he opened both doors, I instantly felt like a kid in a chocolate factory... The two doors gave way to a large foyer with a light green marble floor that led to a long ebony wooden spiral stair case. Right in the middle of that same foyer, which looked as though it had been designed with the Caribbeans in mind, sat a majestic ceramic fountain composed of statues of two dolphins spitting jets of

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water into its wide bed. But what really caught my attention were the two massive 9 feet tall palm trees that sat on each side of the fountain in what looked like gigantic Asian ceramic flower pots full of soil. I had never seen a real life palm tree before then, and the look on my face said exactly that. Upon noticing my fascination, Kevin let out a laugh and said: "I love Miami bro; I had to bring it back home with me..." Before I had had a chance to respond to Kevin's slightly elitist comment, a voice called out his name f rom a distance... "Kevin, my boy!!! nice seeing you!!!" we both turned around to notice a man with unlawfully shiny gray hair that was parted in such a meticulous comb over, that he could not have possibly done it himself. As him and Kevin got closer, he started buttoning up the top button on a navy blue suit that looked like it cost about the same as your average Japanese mid-size sedan. What really caught my attention however, was not his suit or the Harry W inston Opus that sat on his left wrist; instead, it was the long legged amazon with a body out of a 15 year old boy's fantasy, that was holding onto his right arm ; dressed in nothing but a lace thong and a l ight pink night gown that sat on her shoulders undone and exposing a set of the most pompous natural breasts I had ever seen... "Councilman!! Did Nikita take good care of you?" asked Kevin, as he vigorously shook the man's hand. "She was delightful!" answered the man, while kissing her hand as he still held on to it. She would then crack a smile tha t indicated that whatever the amount in tips the councilman was leaving behind, it was not enough to help her overlook his horrible erectile dysfunction.. "Glad to hear; next time is on the house. And say hello to the misses for me will you? Let her know I 've received the invitation to her fundraiser; my cheque book and I will be there." said Kevin, as he shook the man's hand good bye while walking him to the doors... I stood there and observed the two of them networking from a distance.. That was the moment I made my decision. Kevin was everything I wanted to be; young, black, rich and influential. In my eyes he had it all and I wanted it plus more, and the only way to get it, was to find the will to get down and dirty. I kept hearing the voice in my head telling me that it was time; time to take back what the world had unjustly stolen from me. I was in; I was going to do it no matter the risk because I believed it was my destiny to do so... Kevin would interrupt my self-empowering reflection by walking up to me from behind and grabbing me affectionately by the shoulder, as he started leading me in his step towards the ebony spiral stair case. He then pulled me closer towards him and whispered: "I swear if that motherfucker does not get me my building permi ts, I am burning his house down with his whole family inside of it..." I let out a slightly

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nervous laugh, in my attempt at rationalizing the fact that I had just possibly became an accessory to a mass murder. Before I had had the chance to settle for a witness protection program first name however, Kevin turned the corner to one of the long corridors on top of the stair case, and walked up to a second set of black mahogany doors and said: "Welcome to the staff lunch roomâ&#x20AC;Ś" The only way to accurately describe the scenery of what lied behind those doors at first sight, would involve picturing a strip club with an old Victorian flare to it. The long walls that stretched all the way up to a ceiling nearly 10 feet in the air, were covered in large paintings an d Persian tapestry as far as the eye could see. In the middle of the ceiling, hung a gorgeous Italian chandelier that happened to not be in use that night, due to the fact that the room was only lit by strobe lights in order to really accentuate the strip club vibe which I imagined had been the motif at hand when the room was being designed. As soon as I step ped in, I couldn't help but immediately feel at home... But what really accentuated the strip club motif wasn't just the strobe lights, the loud electronic music, or the dozen round tables with missing middles in order to facilitate private dances that were scattered all over the room. Instead, it was the little over fifteen playboy calendar models that roamed around dressed in next to nothing, busy socializing with guys that looked way too happy to be worrying about the tab on what looked like a champagne bottle graveyard.. "Everyone in here works for me; make yourself at home" said Kevin, as he put his hand on my back and proceeded to guide me into the room... To this day, I have never felt as impressed as I felt once I began seeing through the way Kevin ran his operation. Law number 23 of my code urged the importance behind concentrating ones forces; by often facilitating what looked like the staff Christmas party at Sodom and Gomorrah incorporated, Kevin gave his runners access to the cal iber of women they couldn't even dare to sanely dream of, which ultimately rendered them dependent on him, at least as far as quality intercourse was concerned.. His girls in return, would profit by getting their hands on whatever cocaine these guys could spare, while Kevin sat back and observed his whole infrastructure work hard in order to sustain itself. One hand was washing the other in harmony without even knowing ; it was pure genius at work... We made our way towards one of three corner bars that surrounded the room. This one was tended by a brunette with the most enchanting hazel eyes who was quick to hand us two bottles of seven hundred dollar Veuve coquelicot Champagne. Kevin popped the cork on his and immediately put the bottle to his mouth in an effort to avoid spillage, then looked at me and said: "Drink up; l ife is too damn

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short." As soon as I reached acceptance of the fact that these words were indeed coming out of the mouth of my ride home later on that night, I followed in his tracks and did the same, before we were joined by a young lady that would later on serve as my magic carpet down memory lane; all the way down to the day I experienced my first televised blow job... "Hi daddy!!.." I had just turned around to face the bar, in order to see if I could stir up an emotional cocktail that would see the barmaid wet her little panties, when I heard those words echo in my head in the most lustful puerto rican accent my auditory senses had ever processed. I quickly turned around to find Kevin in the midst of exchanging a three piece kiss with a girl whose tan was so ridiculously even that I wondered if she only wore clothes on very special occasions. Her maroon red hair was styled in a Haley berry short cut, graciously exposing a face so clear of blemishes you could have sworn she exfoliated at least three times a day. I couldn't stop staring while simultaneously wiping a gallon or two of drool off my face as I watched her and Kevin exchange a series of banalities. She would then notice me and say: "Who is your friend Daddy?" "Ah, yes!!" exclaimed Kevin, as if he was about to introduce Santa Claus to one of his friends. "Roby, this is Soledad.. Sol, this here is Roby, he is my newest prospect.." It was as if the last part of that sentence unleashed her inner Jezebel; he might as well just have told her that I had won the lottery jackpot earlier that afternoon. She would very suggestively bite her lip amidst a t orrid full body scan, before cracking into a smile capable of stopping wars and saying: "prospect huh? So maybe I think it's a good idea if I take care of this one myself ain't it Daddy?" as she flirtatiously started playing with the buttons on my shirt.." Gotta love how much of a proactive little girl she can be, wouldn't you say Roby?" said Kevin, while throwing a wink my way that had sex offender written all over it. "I must say I agree" I replied, distracted by a set of lips that looked too full not to b e a twinkie trademarked product... Ten seconds later, she grabbed my hand and began guiding me towards a red velvet love seat that sat in one of the corners of the room. As soon as I sat down, she sat on top of me and without a hint of hesitation, started reaching for a bulge in my pants she had by now been more than partially responsible for.."Ummm, you are so big pappy. I can't wait to feel your hot steamy load at the bottom of my throat" whispered Soledad, as she gently bit my ear lobe while running her fingers up and down the reptile that had decided to declare war onto the zipper on my pants...

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Suddenly, I came to the realization that I had never been in a situation like this before. Every girl I had ever slept with, had been a result of hard work and perseverance; never due to the fact that I was associated with someone else. I then began wondering what sex felt like once the element of the chase had been removed from the equation. But before I had had a chance to conclude my quest for answers, a tall completely naked blonde that had been sitting on the couch next to us, with a guy who looked like Charlie Sheen minus the horrible drinking habit, got on her feet and put together a series of phrases that ended up turning into a question you couldn't to my knowledge ask in a christian country without getting stoned by an angry mob in the middle of a shopping mall: "Hey guys!!! Who wants to play guess whose cock is in your mouth??" Guess whose cock is in your mouth will go down in history as an all time fa n favorite in my many questionable circles. In a nutshell, although I am a firm believer that a written explanation does not do the game justice, and it should instead be apart of our high school curriculum, the operation itself consists of five blind-folded girls all on their knees next to each other in a row. In front of them would then stand an equal amount of guys, who would then alternate their fellatio providers every five to ten seconds. The point of the game is for the girls to guess whose penis they have in their mouth at a given moment; and if successfully guessed, it means elimination for the unearthed male participant. The victor, is always the last man remaining unguessed; his prize being the ultimate blowjob from all female participants at the same time until reaching ecstasy... As soon as she heard her friend make a proposal so indecent it left me wondering how her tongue had not broken in hives in the process, Soledad sharply turned towards me with the excitement of a child that had just hear d the ice-cream truck and said: "Oh my god, you wanna play? C'mon it's really fun. You are gonna love it!!!"- I did want to play; really badly as a matter of fact. But deep down, I just knew I couldn't. Law number 34 of my code expected me to carry myself royally in my own fashion. I had to act like a King in order to be treated like one; and playing peasant games was no way to do so... "Nah, I think I will sit this one out Sweetheart. You can play though, I will root for ya I promise.." She gave me a look charged with disappointment as she wrapped her arms around my neck and slid up my thighs in order to seat closer then said: "But I want your cock in my mouth pappy. Not fair!!" I suddenly started feeling as if I was blatantly violating a few human rights, by denying this poor little thing her god given freedom to quench her thirst with my manhood. I then immediately got up from the chair while holding her in my arms; slightly surprised, she managed to hang on firmer onto my neck in a panick as she let out

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a few curses in Spanish. "Why don't you let me carry you somewhere a little more private? Who knows, I could even make your wish come true.." I said, tossing her a wink that accurately reflected the level of sexual energy in that moment... Shortly after, we walked into a modernly furnished room that looked like it served the purpose of an office. I decided to settle for a large white leather couch that sat in the middle of the room facing a glass work desk with documents scattered all over it. As soon as S oledad's feet touched the ground, she immediately pushed me down on the couch with a look in her eyes that clearly indicated that she was taking it from there. She then raised the tiny little skirt from her school girl outfit as she sat back on my lap and begun to kiss my neck sensually while undoing my belt. I would spread my arms over the length of the couch as she begun to tease my pee hole with gentle tongue strokes... Once she figured out that I couldn't possibly get any harder without popping a vein, she started running her tongue up and down my shaft making sure she occasionally circled the tip of my cock with her puffy lips. Once the teasing became unbearable, the beast in me would come up to the surface in a surge of sensual violence as I firmly grabbed a handful of her short hair and pulled her head back authoritatively. I could see a bit of fear in her eyes as I held eye contact and said: "Stop teasing and suck my dick already bitch.." For a mom ent, I felt afraid I went too far; but suddenly, the look in her eyes went from fear to excitement and she said: "Yes pappy! I will be a good little girl and stop teasing now.." Almost instantly she would manage to completely deep throat my rather impressively sized manhood and hold it there longer than any one else had done before to my great surprise. On her way back up, she chocked and let out what looked like a liter of saliva, which she let run freely down my shaft before smearing it all over my cock and balls. I held on to her hair firmer as I found myself getting closer and closer to the gates of Nirvana. She repeated the process three more times before stroking my dick into a franzy until it emptied every drop of man goo inside her warm little mouth. As I closed my eyes in order to fully enjoy this treat, my mind immediately flashed back to that time I had walked in my cousin's bedroom and pressed play on his VCR a little over a decade back... In my mind there were way too many similarities for this to just be a coincidence. Her technique, the red hair, the large white couch, everything seemed the same. This was a sign; a sign that I was on the path to regaining my old life back. In that moment, the voice in my head kept telling me that all the stars were now aligned and it was time to begin my journey of ascension. The little boy inside

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of me who had had his hand out hoping his old life would be handed back to him through some sort of miracle, had died from starvation and I had just buried him. I finally felt like I was my own man; on the quest for his own mark on history... An hour later, Kevin would pull into my driveway, park the car and push the start button to shut it off. He then reached in his pocket, grabbed a pack of menthol cigarettes and handed me one. I immediately recognized his act of selective generosity; but decided to overlook it, due to the fact that him and I now shared the same agenda; he just didn't know it yet. We each took a couple drags sitting in complete silence before it became unbearable for Kevin and he decided to break it: "So?" he asked, unable to sustain anymore of the suspense. I waited a few seconds and took one more drag of my cigarette then said: "Alright, I'm in. Let's make this money." He couldn't contain the smile on his face as he affectionately squeezed my shoulder and said: "Thatta boy; get some good rest. I will pick you up after school tomorrow, there is someone I want you to meet ..." At four o'clock in the evening of the following day, Kevin pulled up in front of the school and I quickly hoped in his car. Somet hing kept telling me it wasn't wise to be seen on Camera with him; that gut instinct would later on prove itself priceless.. "Alright, you ready for this?" he asked, as he shook my hand and began driving off. "As ready as one can be for this" I replied, u tterly positive that I was nowhere near ready. Ten minutes later, we were on the highway off ramp entering the suburbs of St. Catharines. We would drive down a long street in what looked like your standard middle calls neighborhood, until we reached the end of it and pulled into the driveway of a white two story bungalow with a bright Orange Honda Prelude parked out front.. "Ready to meet your new best friend?" said Kevin, as he reached in the backseat for a l iquor store bag... I debated revealing to him that Law number 2 of my code advised against putting too much trust in friends; but I would end up silenced by Law number 4, which insisted on saying less than necessary.. Walking up to the house, my attention would get caught by two surveillance cameras th at sat on both front corners of the roof, hovering from side to side. Whoever lived here had elected privacy as a major concern; I would very shortly find out why.. Kevin reached the front door first and proceeded to give it three loud knocks as I stood be hind him in close proximity. A few seconds later, the door inched open revealing a man in his late twenties who looked no taller than 5' 3, with a stocky build and an unmistakable Hispanic heritage... Upon recognizing Kevin, he stuck his head outside the door for a detailed examination of the surroundings, in order to make sure there were no undesirable

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eyes witnessing our l ittle tea-time visit. Once he had made sure big brother wasn't watching, he then discreetly signaled us to come inside. We would walk in without a single word having been said yet; but as soon as he closed the door behind us and activated what sounded like eight different locking mechanisms, he and Kevin would immediately engage into an overly brotherly embrace that clearly indicated that these two had a long history together. Once the bromance had finally been curbed, they would then both turn towards me.. I gave the man a courtesy nod as he subjected me to a suspiciously detailed full body scan then said: "You must be Roby; nice meeting you, they call me Millo..." Camillo Alvarez also known on the street as "El Mil lo," will forever go down in the history of the Niagara region organized crime, as the man with the l ion heart. He was known for one thing and one thing only; his perfect stre et fighting record. Legend has it, that he avenged the death of his father, an ex Colombian drug cartel boss, by setting the man responsible for his murder on fire when he was no older than nine years old. He had met Kevin on the first day of their 8th gra de school year; following his mother's relocation to Canada. The two would go on to form the most notorious lunch money racketeering duo in middle school history... At the end of their Junior year of High School, Kevin took off to pursue his failed Dj career, while a lost Millo decided to try his hand at the only business his ancestors had known dating back to his great-grand father; cocaine trafficking. He would later on graduate to the retail of crack in order to accentuate his earnings, but remained a low level street peddler until the fateful day Kevin rose to the top of the Maggadino family charter, and brought in Millo as his second in command. The issue with what appeared otherwise as a strategical move however, was the fact that Millo was too much o f an unpredictable character, utterly unable to keep his temper in check... This sad real ity, would come down crashing on Kevin's head in the form of outrageous attorney fees one July afternoon when he decided to reach out to Camillo to see if he could pick up his then girlfriend from home and bring her over to his house because her car had broken down earlier that day, and Kevin was too busy to pick her up himself. In good Lieutenant fashion, Millo agreed to do his now Boss the favor, and before long he was parked in front of his girlfriend's awaiting her to get out of the house.. The universe would however decide to turn a routine pick up into an attempted murder case, when a sixteen year old boy who lived across the street from Kevin's girlfriend's house , mistakenly confused Millo's car with one of his friends' and decided it would be funny to jump on the roof and start shaking it. A mistake that would reveal itself to be borderline fatal...

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Camillo Alvarez being a man who prided himself on his low toler ance for tomfoolery, especially when it came in the form of teenage seismic reactions, would see it fit to pop the trunk on his car open, grab a machete and nearly slice the boy's right arm off in retribution. As a resu lt, he was now on house arrest for the next two years, spending his days checking his cameras obsessively and doing the odd deal here and there for clients he felt comfortable enough giving his home address to.. Kevin refusing to give up on his childhood friend however, had just added one more task onto his now rather l ight schedule; the replenishing of his runners' stock. Hence why the white house style security measures; this was the house where they kept the merchandise. Otherwise known as the "trap house"... "Nice to meet you too brother." I said, while we exchanged firm handshakes. He then signaled us towards a kitchen with marble counters and modern stainless steel appliances. "You renovated your kitchen huh?" said Kevin, as he threw inquisitive looks all around. "Hey, I gotta do somethi ng with the time on my hands right?" responded Millo, in a thick Spanish accent, while letting out a casual laugh as if this was just a Thursday like any other in his book. He then instructed us to take a seat on a few barstools that surrounded the marble kitchen island, and that is when he immediately decided to go into the details concerning the guidelines of our new business relationship... Camillo now served the purpose of what was known on the street as "the connect." This is the man with direct acces s to the distributor, generally in charge of supplying inventory to runners out of merchandise as well as collect ing payment from them on behalf of said distributor. "Pick-up is between six and eight thirty at night. If you call anytime passed that, forget getting ahold of me until the next day." At first, I assumed it was because the Police most likely decreased their surveillance efforts around that time; until I later on came to find out that his mother lived with him and he wished to keep her in the dar k by conducting his business in the hours she was busy visiting an older sister at a nearby retirement home... "Six and eight thirty, got it. No sooner, no later." I replied, while raising two shy thumbs. Camillo then reached in the right pocket of his de signer jeans, and pulled out a silver flip phone. He sat it on the table, slid it towards me and said: "This is your work phone; never give a bucket your actual number, that's rule number one. Speed dial one is me and speed dial two is Kev. We use borderli ne untraceable pre-paids, so you can breath easy when orders start coming in." I took the phone and flipped it open to find myself greeted by a V irgin mobile logo. Nonetheless however, my focus now found itself under attack by one question that

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was starting to set fire to my insides. Unable to hold my curiosity back, I decided to go ahead and ask: "Hey man, what's a bucket?" The follow up look I received in return from the both of them clearly indicated that up until that moment, they had not yet realized that they had a bit of work cut out for them in order to get me up and running. "Seriously man? This is the guy you want to work the campus? Where the hell do you find these people? Squares R'us?" said Millo, as he turned towards Kevin with a genuinely exasperated look on his face.. "Trust me Mills, this kid is different. He will do just fine bel ieve me." repl ied Kevin, throwing an encouraging smile my way. Millo then rolled his eyes in protest, as a clear indication to all parties involved that he had no time to be teaching drug dealer 101; but before he had had a chance to express how indisposed he now felt, his phone began ringing.. Little I knew sitting there, It was now just a matter of minutes until my destiny was forever intertwined with the one belonging to the person on the other line... Millo would then reach in his left pocket this time, for the purpose of pulling out a phone that looked identical to the one he had just handed me a few minutes prior. He threw a quick look at the caller ID and an i nstant smirk immediately took possession of his face. He then slowly turned towards Kevin, who without a word gave him a nod of approval and that is when he turned back towards me and said: "Alright rookie; time to pop that cherry." Before I had even had a chance to process what was happening, I found myself walking through the back door with a baggie containing two grams of cocaine in my pocket, with instructions to deliver it to a girl named Melissa that was waiting on the street aboard a silver Dodge Neon... I turned the corner leading up to the street and immediately noticed the car parked a few hundred meters down the road, causing my heart beat to embark on a beating frenzy. The closer I got to the car, the heavier my step got. But I kept repeating Law number 28 of my code in my head over and over again, hoping it would give me the courage to really enter action with boldness. Once I had reached the silver Dodge, I leaned in the open passenger window and said: "Melissa?" The girl with offensively greas y brown hair that sat behind the wheel refused to make eye contact with me but nodded positively to my question. I then opened the passenger door and took a seat beside her... That is when I realized that I had absolutely no idea on how to properly conduct this type of transaction. I had forgotten to ask if I handed out the product first or took payment first. A bit thrown off by my clear lack of experience, Melissa sent a few shy and confused glances my way before saying: "Hey man, do you have

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the stuff or no?" Her question would lead me to deduct that I indeed was supposed to initiate the transaction; ashamed and in a hurry to get it over with, I begun furiously rummaging through my pocket for the baggie. As soon as I got a hold of it, I yanked it out and proceeded to extend my arm her way in order to hand it to her. That is when I took notice of her belly and my heart instantly dropped inside my stomach... My first drug deal ever, was going to be with a woman who looked no less than six months pregnant. I suddenly felt my breath getting shorter and shorter, to the point where I had almost no doubt that I was about to pass out in the front seat of this woman's car. I would however find myself in for a rude awakening when Melissa who had just gotten over my stall ing, snapped at the fact that I was directly handing her the baggie. "What the fuck are you doing man? Don't hand it to me, put it down by the gear stick, take your money out of the glove box and get the hell out of my car.." I followed her instructi ons in a panic and proceeded to literally run out of her car as she took off at Nascar speeds down the street... The short walk back towards Millo's house felt like an odyssey in the Sahara desert. Warm tears started rushing down my face at the thought of what I had just done. "what if that kid dies because of me?" I kept asking myself. As soon as I turned the corner that led onto the driveway, my stomach decided that it was time for an emergency clean up and I found myself a few seconds later with my head lodged down a set of fence bushes, projectile vomiting at an alarming speed. Once I had made sure that my entire lunch was now onto its' next life as bush fertilizer, I took a seat on the pavement and buried my head in my knees as tears continued to stream down my face... I couldn't do it; there were no possible way in sight that would see me finally come to peace with doing something l ike this on a day to day basis. That moment, I decided that this was it for me. My career as a drug dealer was over befor e it had even started. I was going to walk back inside the house, kindly inform Kevin and Millo of my resignation and go back to my have not life. At least I would sleep with a clear conscience at night.. Yet little I knew, looking back now, I had just fin ished selling the latter off with that baggie full of cocaine... I walked back inside the house to find Kevin pouring the contents of an Absolute Vodka bottle inside three shot glasses. As soon as he heard the door close behind me, Millo who was amidst a phone call in a corner of the kitchen, instructed the individual on the other line that he would call them later, hung up the phone and said: "So how was it Rook? Do you feel like a man now? Because you definitely are one now!!" My lack of reaction to his comment didn't become a

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cause for concern until I took a seat back where I was prior to my mission, and allowed them an upclose and personal look at the defeated stare that now held my face hostage. "What happened? did you get my money?"asked Millo, in a t one that emphasized on the lack of any form of basic sensitivity training... Without saying a single word, I slowly reached in my pocket and pulled out the hundred and sixty dollars in twenties I had grabbed from her glove compartment , and sat them on the counter. Millo immediately reached for the stack of cash and began counting it meticulously as Kevin made his way around the counter and pulled a stool right beside me then said: "Tell me what happened over there;" in a tone so full of compassion that it instantly threw me off. I felt another stream of tears on the verge of going down my eyes, but I would bite my lip almost through in an attempt to hold them back then said: "She was pregnant man; I don't know if I can live with that type of shit on my con science." The first sound in response to my statement was a loud obnoxious chuckle from Millo; it would however be instantly met with a dirty look and a gesture to keep his mouth shut, courtesy of Kevin. Once he had finished silently reminding his Lieutenant of who called the shots here, he then turned back towards me and proceeded to val idate the next year and a half of my life I was about to spend seeking salvation in the underworld.. "Hey man look, I know that shit was probably not easy. But think about it this way, if you had not taken her money, someone else would've.." It took me about a minute or two to really get to the bottom of Kevin's words. But when I did, everything suddenly made sense. This woman had made a choice to live her life the way she did, and I was making a choice on how to live mine. Just how I couldn't blame anyone else if I one day came to fail my code and had to live with the consequences of it, I couldn't take blame for her bad luck either.. Law number 10 of my code urged me to avoid the unlucky; I started wondering if it counted as avoiding them if I just provided them a service and saw them on their way.. My philosophical moment would however be pleasantly interrupted by Millo tapping me on the back and saying: " Good job Kid, t he entirety of first kill is yours;" as he handed the full stack of eight twenty dollar bills... I slowly accepted the cash from his hands and began looking at it upclose. I had never earned money before; the only money I had ever had, had been out of the little my parents now had, and student loans; view the fact that my father had never allowed my sisters or I to seek meaningful employment. I then suddenly realized that in less than five minutes, I had made nearly twice what my mother made in a day working as a nurse. I was very much liking the low effort, high

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reward situation that seemed to be presenting itself. It wouldn't be long until I found out how outrageously naive I was being about this whole thing... Kevin reached over the counter and handed e ach of us a shot glass full of Vodka. I could barely contain my excitement at the thought of its warm feeling going down my body, following the fiasco I had just been through a few minutes prior.. We then raised our glasses in the air, but before taking th e shots, Millo would tap his glass while raising it further in my direction, demand a toast, then say: "Remember, no one got into this to become a social worker. The only thing on the mind of a shark is eat; welcome to the game kid..."

Evasive silver linings... The reason so many fall in love with the retail of Cocaine, is due to the fact of how easy it truly is. The majority of cocaine users are jolly partiers just looking for a hyped time. And I was really good at making those type of friends, mainly because I was a firm believer in the concept of fun for all myself. But aside from being invited to all the cool parties and having every other girl begging for a taste of your genitalia in exchange for a bump, the cherry on top of the cocaine distribution cake was of course the money... It took approximately two and half weeks for the word to get around that there was a new snowman in town. What followed was nothing short of a complete 360 degree turn around of my finances. I went from making a thousand dol lars a week in my first month, to eight thousand a week six months in the game. I barely knew what to do with the money; there was so much of it coming in so fast that by mid-way through the first semester of my second year of University, I had completely lost all interest in going to school. I had missed half my mid-terms because I spent my nights in bars and clubs to wake up at three in the afternoon, turn on both my phones and make more money than my professor made in a month, in half a day worth of what in no way shape or form felt like work... The more I made, the more refined my tastes became. First item on the agenda was to change my current living arrangements. Renting a room in a shared house was no longer acceptable according to my newly acquired standards. I managed to convince Kevin that I was in need of better amenities, preferably in the club district downtown in order to increase business. He would graciously sign off on a five bedroom luxury apartment right in the middle of King street downtown St. Catharines, due to the fact that my inexistent credit history couldn't afford me the

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landlord's trust. It would later on turn out to be the only thing between me and a five year prison sentence... The next item on my agenda turned out to be my appe arance. I had money now, and Law number 25 of my code insisted that I re -create myself. Being a yearly subscriber to the Gentleman's Quarterly, It became common for me to travel two hours north to Toronto and spend upwards of five to ten thousand dollars a t the Louis Vuitton store in the matter of a few hours on any given Saturday afternoon. In my mind, I had made it; I was back where I belonged. My life had now become everything I had felt it was entitled to be in the first place. But all that goes up must one day come down and I had been long overdue for the first wakeup call of many that would follow... I had been in the midst of a conversation with a student of Chinese descent in my political science class, who was in the middle of explaining to me how and why the paper that was apparently due the following da y, was worth 30 percent of the marks when my business line went off.. It was Kevin; I raised my index finger to indicate to Cheung that I needed a minute to take the call, walked towards a nearby vending machine in the school Cafeteria and answered my phone.. "Yo Roby, our friends in Fort Erie need a grown ass baby delivered to them ASAP and I'm not around. You gonna have to do it." A grown ass baby in leman terms stands for a half ounce of Crack Co caine. I had recently graduated to the retail of crack a little over three weeks prior, due to the high level of customer loyalty I had seen it generate for fellow friends and colleagues of mine. I had been offered the option of diversifying my product portfolio way prior to that , but decided to stick to regular cocaine due to the very questionable client base the retail of crack attracted. But in the en d, the money became too much to resist and I took it upon myself to try my hand at it... The issue with Kevin's request however, was that I was still in my familiarization period with the newest product on my borderline optionless menu and had not yet developed a stock large enough to fulfill such an order. "Sorry man, the orphanage is empty" I replied, hopi ng to get let off the hook in order to go back to the slow bribing process I had begun hoping to sway Cheung into writing my essay for me. But unfortunately, when destiny has a plan for you, it never fails to make a convincing argument. “Call Millo and fig ure it out; you are both big boys. I expect a call from you in an hour telling me that it’s done!!” Before I had had a chance to rebuttal what I felt like was a clear abuse of power on Kevin’s behalf, the loud click that followed his statement quickly reminded me that the drug game was not a unionized gig and I should probably 192

figure out a way of accomplishing the task I had just been given by my boss. I muttered a quick farewell to Cheung and begun making my way down school hallways at a rather fast pace. I had some phone calls to make if I was going to see this mission through. Yet little I knew at the time, I was about to walk into one of the most terrifying moment of my entire existence… The first call I made was to Millo. I explained the nature of the situation I was now facing plus the fact that these were orders coming directly from upstairs. After a series of what sounded like Colombian diabol ical curses, which I imagined were directed at Kevin for his flagrant disrespect of the valuable time belong ing to a man already on house arrest, Millo finally agreed to quickly see me for the purpose of replenishing my stock. I would give him an ETA of twenty minutes before remembering a slight detail that was going to make the latter rather difficult. I had no car that day… One of the first pieces of advice given to me by Kevin when I first embarked on my new career path was: “If you are going to move merchandise, rent cars twice a week, don’t buy one. Niagara region is small and it’s a matter of time before y our car goes on file, and it’s hell on wheels from there ..” As a result, I had never bought a vehicle but just rented them instead.. One on Mondays, and a new one on Thursdays in the name of precaution. Not to mention that I liked this system better because it made me feel like I was buying a new car every two days; and of course my newly improved finances a fforded me the luxury of picking whatever caught my eye on the lot. I love SUVs; my choices were generally narrowed to Range Rovers and Porsche Cayennes. The issue in this particular instant however, was the fact that I had returned the one I had had for the last three days that morning; but in my hurry to attend my last Sociology class before mid-terms, had decided to forego the time consuming paper work process necessary to acquire a new vehicle, and opted instead for the bus; thinking that I would return when I had a little more time on my hands. That is when I decided to call in a favor… Another sweet perk strictly reserved for Cocaine retailers, is t he never ending line up of individuals looking to label themselves useful in your good book s, in the hope of the highly hypothetical occasional “free bump.” But I was no believer in the free bump; as much as Law number 40 of my code fueled my disdain for the free lunch, I also loathed being the one serving it. I hated feel ing owed to just as much as I hated feel ing like I owed anyone anything; especially clients or “buckets;” as they were often affectionately referred to as in the profession’s social mil ieus. But this was for the greater good and I knew I had to push my pride to the side and do the one thing I felt sodomized my code of conduct as a fun time

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merchandiser. I scrolled through my phone until the name I was looking for jumped onto my eyeballs; Tony Zaigerman… I had met Tony at a sorority party I had attended three months back for both business and pleasure purposes. He was one of my few clients I can genuinely call a friend to this day. Now, I know that makes little to no sense view the fact that Law number 10 of my code advised me to avoid the unhappy and the unlucky, and to this day I still consider anyone with a cocaine habit to be horribly unlucky and tremendously unhappy, what made a difference in my relationship with Tony however, was the circumstances under which him and I met… It hadn’t been twenty five minutes following my fashionably late entrance to the party, when I was approached by a group of six sorority girls looking to acquire some of my product. The businessman in me would of cou rse oblige after a series of brief cost negotiations that seemed to be marked by an obnoxious amount of giggle breaks. Following their merchandise acquisition, the ladies would all kindly excuse themselves but one ; a petite brunette by the name of Christina that looked no older than 19 at the time . She had a tiny Lolita face, a body to suit the motif and stayed behind to engage into a stimulating debate with me about bullying on social media. Once it became evident that neither of us really cared about the Facebook struggles of overweight kids, we decided to use a nearby utility closet for intimacy purposes… After spending what seemed l ike the better part of ten minutes on the search for a light switch, we finally found it, and almost immediately began att empting to defy science by sucking each other’s faces off our respective heads.. Our little experiment would however come to an abrupt ending the moment I managed to pull down my jeans and lift up her little yellow tight skirt to enter the Promised Land. The closet door would fly open, completely taking me by surprise. I quickly turned around following a piercing shriek from Christina, to find a drunken jock in a black hoodie and swimming trunks staring at me. I assumed that he was most likely going to excuse himself and shut the door behind him while throwing me a congratulatory wink in the process; but the latter never happened. Instead, a gigantic smirk invaded his face and he yelled out: “Yo Tony, I think the snowman is banging your sister bro!!!” To say that my scrotum felt as though it had just been used as piranha fishing bait would be a tremendous understatement. I had two sisters of my own; putting an overzealous gentleman in a choke hold just for touching any of them in a way I found inappropriate for a night club’s dance floor, was a regular reoccurrence. The thought alone of catching them in the act with another man was a recipe for

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high blood pressure on my end. I remember thinking to myself that whoever Tony was, they were going to come out swin ging and it would really suck to get knocked out with my pants down on my ankles. What followe d, was nothing short of the complete opposite. “Randy what the fuck is wrong with you!?!” screamed Christina, as I struggled to put her down and pull up my pants. I hadn’t finished doing up my zipper when a head the size of a watermelon appeared through the frame of the closet door sitting on shoulders that looked like they belonged to a mountain gorilla. I debated doing breathing exercises so I wouldn’t pass out from the fear but decided not to; hoping that maybe my passing out would incite mercy. I then thought about saying something; but Law number 4 of my code which preached the need for saying less than necessary, would numb my vocal cords. So I waited for hi m to start rambling on about how he was going to kill me for soiling his blood and shaming the name of his ancestors; but the latter never came. Instead, he laughed and said: “Well someone has to do it, and it sure as hell ain’t gonna be me so why not the snowman? Eh’ dawg, do you think I can grab an eight ball of that stuff you gave the girls off of you actually?” I was nothing short of astonished; but more than anything, I was envious. Borderline jealous of his Laissez-faire attitude about life; I spent my days scheming ways of feeding the egotistical side of me and yet Tony, a man who five minutes before that moment I would have classified as a second class citizen under all intents and purposes due to his recreational habits, had transcended such bare human needs; and I admired that. That night, his eight ball would be on the house. We would crack into a bottle of bourbon as we sat and chatted about school and life in general. A week later, I found out that he was on the school Hockey team and within a matter of days the entire roaster had made it onto my little black book of loyal customers… But unfortunately for Tony, nothing came free in my world; it was time for him to pay for his eight ball.. I pressed the dial button on my phone and he picked up on the third ring; after a discussion about how he had torn a ligament during hockey practice which I insisted he cut short, I decided to go in for the kill. He agreed to give me a ride but only if we did it in the next half hour because he had class all evening after that. I agreed and gave him the address to Milo’s instructing him to meet me there in exactly a half hour… Once my cab pulled into Milo’s driveway, I pulled a stack of hundred dollar bills out of my True Religion Jeans pocket , but feeling too pressed for time to look for a twenty inside a stack that large, I threw one of the hundreds at the driver and

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asked him to keep the change as I rushed through the door. Once Milo had made sure it was me, he opened the door then gave me a quick hug before s howing me inside and suspiciously checking his driveway for what I assum ed were cops as he locked the door back up. He would then offer me a drink which I would politely declined by telling him that I was on Kev 's time, which he reluctantly took as a signal to run upstairs to the safes and grab the merchandise… I stood in the middle of his fancy, newly renovated kitchen impatiently looking at the clock on my cell-phone, wondering why Tony had not yet texted me yet letting me know that he was outside. That is when Milo came down the stairs with the package in his hand; he then hand it off to me and I proceeded to tucking it underneath my sociology text books and making my way to the door. But before I left, Millo would stop me in my tracks and say: “One last thing,” while holding up a small baggie containing what looked no more than 2 grams of coke… My initial reaction would turn out to be an exasperated one. “Dude, I really don’t have time for this; plus you know I don’t do that shit.” That is when Millo bursted out laughing and said: “Relax Hermano, it’s not for you.” His answer left me confused so I decided to inquire whose it was and why was he handing it to me. He would go on to explain how Judith, the young lady who I was in charge of bringing the package to, was a personal friend of his and sometimes he throws a little extra cherry onto the cake as a way of expressing his warmest regards. Following a series of agreements on how this was a great way of generating referrals from high volume clients, I grabbed the extra package off of him and threw it in my jeans back pocket; not knowing that it was a matter of minutes until that same little package saved me from the agony of wondering if my mother was going to accept my collect calls… I stepped outside Milo’s front door and immediately noticed a gray Ford Windstar minivan sitting on the edge of the driveway. That is when I quickly pulled out my cell-phone and noticed a text from Tony that read: “Right out -front, gray van.” I started making my way towards t he car, but the moment I went to go around it in order to take the front seat, my heart skipped a beat; Tony was sitting in the front seat, because someone else was sitting in the driver’s seat. I decided to keep my composure until I had uncovered who was this new unsolicited addition to my evening plans. But finding out turned out to make the situation even worse than it was when I was still in the dark… Jeremy Crothers was a well-known town hooligan with the criminal record to go with the reputation. A misfit out of some dark corner on the border between Windsor and Detroit, he had dropped out of school at the end of the first semester

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of his first year; 4 years prior. Instead of moving back to his hole, he had decided to spend his days bucking rails of cocaine and selling weed out of his girlfriend’s campus dorm room. But his loser ways and his questionable hygiene rituals were not the reason why I was not very fond of his company on this l ittle road trip we were on the verge of embarking on. The main rea son behind my disdain, was because he was loud; he talked too much. And I knew that in this business, you never wanted someone with a large rap sheet to have any information on your dealings. You never knew when they would have to sell you out to the man i n order to get themselves out of a jam. Having him around felt like a major violation of multiple Laws in my code and I didn’t l ike the feeling of stepping out of it; it felt unsafe… I walked around the car to the passenger side window and knocked on it w hile signaling Tony to roll it down. He did as he was instructed with a big smile on his face then said: “Whatsup man? Are you ready to go?” but my lack of a friendly reaction quickly became an indicator that something was wrong; which then led him to ask: “Is everything alright bro?” I took my time before answering due to the fact that I wanted to make sure that I was making clear eye contact with Jeremy then said: “What is he doing here?” in a cold unforgiving tone. Tony threw an astonished look his way as the palpable aggression finally came to his attention then said: “I told you I tore a ligament man. I can’t drive, so I asked Jeremy to give you a ride on my behalf. Plus my sister borrowed my car today, so he agreed to use his van to take us man...” This was getting worse by the second. After initially noticing Jeremy, I had come to the conclusion that his presence was due to Tony’s injury which I remembered dismissing his mentioning of an hour prior; My quick fix solution to the problem then had been asking Jeremy to kindly fuck off and let me do the driving. But this now proved itself problematic because this was his car. It took the strong scent of redneck and Pine sol that oozed from the back seat to convince me that the latter was indeed an unavoidable reality. I had no time to call someone else, so that meant that I not only had to find the strength in me to last an hour there and back in Mr. Crothers’ dead dreams mobile, but I also had to be nice about it… I slid open the back door to the van and hopped in. The floor of the car was littered with coffee cups and take-out containers. I was better off getting a ride from my local garbage collector. I gave Jeremy instructions to take the back roads all the way there as I reached in my pocket for anothe r hundred dollar bill and tossed it his way saying: “That’s for the gas; smoke the change..” Not taking well to my comment, Mr. Crothers would decide to defy my instructions a few minutes

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later by taking the highway instead of the back roads l ike I had jus t asked him to. But I didn’t notice until it was too late because I was too busy typing a text to Kevin. “Dude what the fuck is wrong with you? I asked you to take the back roads, how did we end up here?” He threw a nonchalant look in his rear -view mirror then said: “Sorry man, force of habit.” I decided to resist the urge of choking him from behind with his own seat belt until we were traveling at a more favorable speed. That is when the inside of the car lit up in red and blue and I thought I had just gotten hit by lightning…

I had been in the game for almost a year now, and during that time I had met a lot of people who had generously volunteered their time to share with me what it was like on the more explicit side of the coin. The one on which the mon ey, the cars, the expensive apartments and the women, turn into a slew of prosecutors wanting to make an example out of you. And all that advice had been taken into consideration and meticulously archived into my subconscious, which increased my need to be careful in all my dealings. But none would follow me up to this day more than the few words Kevin once told me on one of our t wenty thousand dollar champagne nights… The reason why his words that night marked me, was not due to their slurred yet slightly eloquent del ivery; but rather the awe inspiring thought process they catapulted my mind on. Which came as a surprise view the fact that they were coming out of the mouth of a highly inebriated man in the back of hummer limo full of strippers. He took a bi g drag of a Cuban Cigar that had been hanging off the corner of his mouth for a questionable amount of time, blew the smoke all over the majestic bosom of an inexplicably boner inducing red he ad, then turned towards me with a gigantic grin on his face and said: “Yo Roby, what do you think is the difference between a Chump and a Gangster?” This was the part of the Game I really had no interest in; I was in this solely for the money and the girls, I had no ambitions of being feared or being labeled a “Gangster”. No ambitions of rising to Capo status or becoming a house hold name in the profession. My plan all along had been to carry on business until graduating University and by that time I would have saved enough money to do whatever I want; and that is when I would bid farewell to it all. I debated sharing with Kevin my feelings on the silliness of his question, but abstained from doing so because Law number 38 of my code stipulated that I had to think as I wished, but behaved like others. Kevin was a mentor to me now; I saw no need in ruffling his feathers

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by sharing with him the profound sadness I felt at the thought of knowing that the Game was all he had… “Why do I feel like you are right about to tell me?” I said, throwing an interested smile his way. He took another drag of his cigar then said: “See, a chump can move weight and make a lot of money at it too. He can carry a gun and even shoot Niggas in the face with it too. But the difference is Chumps end up dead or in jail; Gangsters, we just get chubby and move to Miami. Because where we excel, is in what we do when shit hits the fan. And trust me, you stay in this game long enough, shit will eventually hit the fan…” Looking back from where I am sitting now as I write these words, according to Kevin’s theory he is unmistakeably a chump today. But in the back of that Limo, they were the wisest words I had ever heard spoken out of the mouth of a human being. All that goes up must one day come down; how had I never thought about that? Or had I thought about it but allowed the glitter to clutter answers that were so self-evident? And now, in the back of a smelly van, shit had just officially hit the fan. For what felt like half a minute before we were completely pulled over to the side of the highway, I thought my heart had seriously stopped beating. I started looking for something to hang onto in my mind in order to avoid what was starting to feel like a panic attack; and that is when it hit me. I was going to have to rely on the only thing that was yet to fail me in my life; my code. If shit was to undoubtedly hit the fan according to Kevin's theory, my code would at least ensure that said metaphorical fan is off at the moment of impact... Law Number 28 of my code outlined entering action with boldness. If I intended to stay out of prison that night, I needed to gather some balls and confront the situation head on. I took a few deep breaths and finally managed to get out of my head to the sound of several: “What the fuck are we going to do's?!?!” from both Tony and Jeremy. Law number 23 preached the need for one to concentrate his or her forces; if by the grace of God we were going to get out of this, it would require everyone be on the same page. That is when it became evident that it was my duty to set the p age. “Alright guys listen up!!” I said, as I reached in the confines of my backpack for the package. I was going to have to multi-task securing it and delivering survival instructions to what the newspapers were going to call my accomplices, who combined h ad the IQ of a 7 year old dyslexic boy… At first, I thought about tucking the package inside the minivan backseat, but if I had learned anything from hours on end of Cops re -runs, it was that the inside of the seats was the first place they dug in these si tuations. My hands

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instantly began clamming, we had now just finished pulling over to the side and it was a matter of seconds until the cop started walking ov er, and I was holding a half ounce of some of the most premium quality crack rocks on the market t hen. I began shaking; but the more I shook, the more I felt my adrenaline levels rising until they turned into full blown survival instincts and I immediately went into auto-pilot mode. I made a discreet effort to turn my back to see if the Cop had started walking over yet, but saw him still typing what was probably the license plate in his computer. The end was slowly approaching... I turned back around and as I did so, my eye was caught by a roll of duct tape that was sitting at the edge of the passenger side of the dash board. I immediately signaled Tony to hand it over but he was now deep in a panic state that made it quite difficult for him to grasp simple instructions. That is when I momentarily lost my cool and hollered: "Tony!! The fucking duck -tape!! Now!!" Luckily, the elevated tone of my voice would make him come to his senses as he threw the duct tape back and I began to wrap up the package, feeling as though time had never moved this fast in my whole entire existence... Once the package was completely covered, I conspicuously started taping it underneath the back seat while trying to make as little movement as possible to not catch the cop's attention. "Alright guys listen the fuck up!!" I said, in a stern whisper. "This motherfucker is going to be here any second now. Remain cool, the story is we are on our way to Fort Erie for a friend's birthday party. If he tries to give you a ticket, don't fucking argue, I will pay for it. All I want out of you fuckers' mouths is yes sirs and no sirs all arou nd. Got it?" They would both agree to follow my game plan which would in return considerably bring down my blood pressure. My tiny little glimmer of hope would however quickly extinguish when Jeremy took a look in his rear-view mirror, saw the officer approaching and said: "Nevermind guys, we are definitely fucked.." To say that Jeremy's statement felt as though I had just gotten sodomized with a rusty nail would be a shameless understatement. "What do you mean we are fucked!?!" I asked, feeling as though my insides had just been ran over by transport truck. He didn't answer; so I asked the same question a gain, but before he had had a chance to respond, the officer would place three firm knocks on the driver side window and signal Jeremy to roll it down. As soon as he finished doing so, an instant smirk took possession of the officer's face and he said: "My goodness, as if this day couldn't get any better, the gods hand me Jeremy Crothers on a silver platter. Top of the evening to the rest of you Gentlemen .." He then shone flashlight in the van to get a glimpse of all remaining faces...

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Suddenly, the answer to my previous question to Jeremy appeared to me in the form of a heart sinking realization. These two had a history together; and knowing how questionable of a human being Jeremy happened to be, it was most likely the furthest thing from a romance. "Alright guys, I'm going to ask this once and once only" said the officer, as he put his flash light away and held on to the driver side door with both hands in an effort to flex his massive biceps for intimidation purposes. "Are there any drugs in the car? and before you answer that question, I want you to carefully consider the fact that Mr. Crothers priors give me the right to search the vehicle if I please; and if it does come down to that , and I happen to even find a tenth of a cannabis nugget, everyone is going to jail tonight.." Once the imminent reality of going to prison finally settled in, I found myself in the possession of a deeper understanding of the expression "shitting a bowling ball." The aggressive nerve fueled expansion of my anal cavity would quickly be followed by profuse sweating at the thought of becoming some guy named Bubba's girlfriend. Suddenly, a mental image of my mother rose to mind; I pictured the uncontrollable stream of tears that would run down her face like a furious river sweeping everything in its passage. This would undoubtedly break her heart; her only son, a convicted fellon; I wasn't about to let it happen without a fight. I wasn't going down that easily... Out of nowhere, I now found Kevin's words replaying in my mind over and over again; it was now time to turn off the fan. That is when I started pondering my options for a plausible play and suddenly got hit with the solution right in the face. It had been staring at me all along, the one and only thing that guaranteed salvation in the most perilous of times; my code. Law number 21 urged one to play a sucker in order to catch a sucker; and the only way to do so in this case wa s through the use of Law number 12 which endorsed selective honesty in order to disarm one's victim... "Out of respect for you and your time officer, I will confess right now. I do have drugs on me." I said, timidly raising my hand and shying away from eye contact. He immediately reached down for his flashlight and proceeded to shine a light onto the corner of the car from which emitted this timid confession. “What’s your name son?” he asked, following two thorough up and down scans with his light. “Robert sir” I answered, in a petrified tone; we were then ordered to get out of the van, stand in a single file line and empty out our pockets. On the way out of the car, I happened to make quick eye contact with both Tony and Jeremy; they would both give me a look that clearly illustrated the fact that they thought me outside my skull at that moment. Yet little they knew, I had just taken a huge

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gamble and won. The first initial part of my plan had been to draw attention away from the van, and it was workingâ&#x20AC;Ś The Officer would then go on collecting driver's licenses and any other suspicious pocket items that happened to grab his attention. Once he got to me, I handed him my license, then proceeded to reach in the back of my jeans for the little baggie of Coke that Millo had entrusted me with that afternoon. He would quickly grab it, give it a couple of flicks and say: "Is this all you have on you son?" I took my time before answering his question; all for the purpose of gathering as much emotion as I possibly could, in order for my response to come off as sincere as it could be then said: "Yes Sir, that is all I swear." He then tilted the package back and forth a few more times while examining its powdery content then said: "Don't move a muscle ladies; this party ju st started." then walked off to his cruiser to go check our IDs... Once I had made sure that the Officer's attention was now oriented towards his clerical matters, I slowly shifted my head towards Jeremy who had been standing right beside me. I was immediately stunned by the greenish complexion his otherwise pale sickly skin had now adopted. It suddenly dawned on me that it was only a matter of seconds until the officer returned and if I had not figured out a way to convince him to let us go, he would insist on searching the vehicle which would put Jeremy in quite the hot seat , view the fact that his priors gave the cops ammunition to threaten him with five to ten years in a federal penitentiary. And when such delicate matters are at hand, who knows what one can say to get his neck out of the noose... I hadn't been dwelling on the apocalyptic proportion of what was now my imminent demise for long when the officer opened his cruiser door and started walking towards me holding both my license and the baggie in the same hand. He would then purposely stand with our noses inches from one another and his left hand nonchalantly resting on his service weapon when he slowly raised his right hand holding the baggie and said: "You are a university kid with no record of violence or drug abuse, what are you doing with this?" This was my only way out of the situation and I decided to instinctively pounce on it while all roads still led to Rome... What followed was nothing short of an Oscar winning performance. I immediately broke into a heart felt sob that saw a river of tears running down my face at an inconceivable speed. Up until that day, I had been unaware of the amazing gift of lacrimal gland control that had been mine this entire time. Looking back at it now, being a better student of human psychology and all, I can

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only attribute it to the fight or flight mechanism we all come evolutionarily equipped with. Whenever it comes down to do or die, the human being will always do.. I would go into a very sad story about how I was just a poor immigrant kid who was new to the country and had taken on way more than he could chew once in University, and was now resorting to the use of narcotics in order to find the energy necessary to see my scholastic obligations through... "What program are you taking?" he asked, while intensifying his eye contact for the purpose of detecting any hint of deceit. I again took my time to allow myself to fully get into character and said: "Political science Sir. My goal is to actually finish the program and join the academy." I then pretended to once again choke on my own tears then added: "But I guess with this on my record, I can now forget it." My hope had been that the last part about me joining the academy would be a good bridge to help us build rapport. I needed him to humanize me and the only way to do so was for me to reflect a dominant side of him. He would then stare at me for a few more seconds, before slowly breaking eye contact and casually starting to walk back towards the van... I instantly felt my thoracic cage shrinking while the organs it had sworn to protect remained the same size. Was this the moment when my fa te would be sealed and I would find myself confronted with the horrendous reality of trading in my Burberry sweater for an orange jump suit? It wouldn't be long before I found my answer. The officer reached in the van and grabbed my backpack, following a thorough examination of its exterior, he then raised it in the air and said: "Is this yours?" I sent back a weak and timid n od to indicate that I concurred with his observation. He would then immediately start rummaging through it in a manner that indicated that whatever he was looking for was a matter of National security. Once he was satisfied that nothing in the bag endangered the republic, he tossed it back in the van and made sign for me to follow him towards his cruiser... This would be the first sign of encouragement ever since the beginning of the entire ordeal; he was isolating me away from the remainder of what he considered the misfits. My self-humanizing tactic had worked. "You are a good kid, why are you running around with these charlatans?" I would go on to explain to him that I really had little to no knowledge of Jeremy and Tony aside from the fact that we had a friend in common who was celebrating a birthday in Fort Erie and I had just came along for the ride. "Where did you get the coke? Is it from Jeremy?" For a slight second I debated if it was worth it to sink the entire ship just for the pleasure of seeing a terminated Jeremy, but decided that my loathing of him was not worth the unsolicited anal sex...

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"In all honesty, I got it from some guy named Trey with dread locks who hangs right in front of Baraccuda night club downtown." I would carry on for about 15 minutes with my phony description of Trey all while thinking to myself that if there really was a guy named Trey with dreadlocks who happened to retail cocaine in front of the same club, and found himself incarcerated as a result of my bogus confession, then God really didn't want him in the streets to begin with ; he would be nothing more than another victim of circumstances. Once the officer had finished taking notes, he closed his little black notebook, o pened the door to his cruiser, reached in and popped back out a few seconds later with some pamphlets... "Due to your cooperation, I'm going to let you guys go. But I want you to get some help kid" he said, while handing me the literature. I examined them and all three seemed to be some sort of rehab p rogram guides. My plan had worked, we were free. "Sir, you are so kind. You have no idea but you just saved my life" I said, bowing my head in appreciation. He nodded with a bit of a proud smirk on his face and proceeded to turn around to get back in his cruis er. "I don't want to see you boys on my highway again" he said, as he closed the door and started the car. "No Sir you won't" I repl ied, while timidly waiving the pamphlets good-bye. He gave me another smirk and proceeded to taking off... What followed would be a dead silent trip back to St. Catharines. I had almost watched everything myself and my family had ever worked for go up in flames in a matter of minutes. I had no idea if what had just gotten me out of that situation was either luck or skill, but I knew I didn't wish to keep trying my luck in order to find out. I looked down at my left hand which had been resting onto my knee and noticed it uncontrollably shaking; that is when I decided that I couldn't do this anymore. The transportation and distrib ution of narcotics was a done business for me; no matter how great the reward, my mind was now conscious of the risk and had deemed it not worth it. My Tony Montana days were over; or at least so I thought...

The sum all losses... The next morning, I pulled up in the driveway of Kevin's mansion to find myself greeted by a fleet of cars that all looked like they came standard equipped with a pussy magnet. No matter how much of a famil iar sight this was now becoming ever since I had started working for him, My heart still couldn't help but skip a beat every first few seconds at the thought of one day owning this much. Almost like a contraction for an expecting mother, this was the reality I wanted to give birth to. I got out of the car and started walking tow ards the house, after a 204

few friendly exchanges with three guys armed to the teeth who yet somehow struck me as though they struggled with clip -on ties, I was escorted by Mason, Kevin's butler, to the gardens where his boss was having breakfast... After walking through a solarium with an unnecessarily large pool, we finally made it to the door leading into the gardens. As soon as I walked through them, I was immediately star struck by one of the most beautiful sights I had ever seen to date.. In this humongous garden roamed a flock of about 20 of the most beautiful Peacocks; I was rendered yet again breathless at the level of eccentric luxury Kevin's l ife had reached. He would notice me staring at them from afar and say: "You like them? I had them flown in fr om Argentina; I was originally thinking Flamingos but thought the pink would remind me of pussy too much and fuck with my focus.. Sit down, have some tea with me." I took a seat on a white metallic garden chair as Kevin clicked his finger to signal a stand by servant in a black and white ensemble to pour some tea in my cup. I put my hand up as an indicator for him to stop pouring and when he had taken a few steps back, I reached inside the Hermes duffle bag I had brought with me, pulled out the package I had been entrusted to deliver the night prior, sat it on the table next to a basket full of oven fresh pastries and said: "I can't do this anymore Kev; I'm out." He slowly reached for the reading glasses that had been sitting low on his face, sat them down o n the newspaper beside him and said: "I was afraid something had happened when Judith told me that the package had not gotten to her." That is when I would go on recounting in meticulous detail the entirety of the slightly heart stopping incident that had occurred the night prior. He would listen so attentively with such fixation onto my words that for a moment I felt as though he was dissecting them to uncover lies. Then out of nowhere, he just exploded into a riotous laughter complimented by uncontrollable hand clapping: " fucking pamphlets?! Seriously?!?" he managed to utter, in between the few seconds in which he could reclaim his breath from the hysterically euphoric spell he was now under. But no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't get myself to share in his humor. This was very real for me, my entire life had hung from the edge of a cl iff and I had been almost unable to catch it until the very last minute... Once it finally dawned on him that the near loss of my beloved freedom was something that I failed to qualify as a laughing matter, he decided to adopt a slightly more serious demeanor. He would then look at me for a few seconds without saying a thing until the moment he raised his hand and asked me to look around: "Do you see all this? All this belongs to the likes of you and I Robert. The

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ones who acquire power and influence through subtlety instead of violence when the latter can be avoided. That is why I took you on; because in you I see way more of myself than in any other guy on my payroll. You managed to turn off the fan before the shit hit it and that is a priceless skill kid, you can't just give up on it like that.." He was right; I was built for this. I had never felt as al ive my whole entire life as I had in the past year I had been working for Kevin. But regardless of the fact, the abrupt ending of the honeymoon phase which had taken place the night before, opened my eyes to a less pleasant alternate side of a coin I was no longer interested in fl ipping. "Your words mean the world to me Kev, and you know I'm thankful for everything you've done for me . But I just don't know if can dabble in drugs anymore man." My comment would be immediately met by a sarcastic laugh from Kevin and he said: "So what now? Do you wanna Pimp girls? Work dispatch? do some enforcing? what do you have in mind?" I debated taking offense to such heartless use of sarcasm, until my mind decided to embark on an analytic journey of the options that had just been handed to me. One in particular felt as though I had just fou nd the holly grail. How had I not thought of it? Combining two of my favorite things in the world in order to make an outstanding living; money and pussy. what was better than that? Kevin was at at the helm of one of the most impressive prostitution rings in the country and an in into the circle could reveal itself rather fruitful for someone who possessed seduction skills as impressive as mine. "Sure why not?" I responded, cracking a faint smile and taking a sip of my lemon tea... He took a sip of his as well then said: "Why not what?" seeming slightly confused as to what I was referring to. "Let me in the Pimping game, I'm great with women as you know, plus I think it's a great opportunity for me to learn all facets of the business.." What followed was a repeat of that same sarcastic laugh that had nearly drawn blood last time it had surfaced: "Rob look, it's no secret to anyone that you have one of the most elevated pussy acumens on God's green earth. But trust me when I tell you this, the Pimping game is not at all what you think it is.." Despite his attempt at discouraging me, I would carry on insisting until he finally caved and said: "Alright, you wanna be a Pimp kid? Go home and wait for my call." I cracked a slight victory smile as I got up to walk to my car, not knowing that in a matter of hours I was going to be a witness to what would qualify in a court of Law as attempted murder... I had been in the midst of a very animated wet dream starring Jennifer Lawrence when my phone went off, leaving me soaked in a sea of my own

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disappointment at the prospect of waking up before I had gotten at least a hand job. It was Kevin; I picked it up right before it stopped ringing: "Yes boss" I said, while rubbing the sleep out of my eyes and attempting to sound remo tely coherent. "I'm picking you up in 20 minutes, today is training day" re plied Kevin, before quickly hanging up the phone. My watch red 8:15 AM; I quickly hoped in the shower and a few minutes later was in the front seat of Kevin's Mercedes with a Starbucks caramel macchiato in hand... "So what's lesson number one on the curriculum, oh Jedi master?" I asked, in an attempt to pick his brain as to what he had in store for me. He took a small sip of his coffee then said: "Do you remember what I told you in m y study, the first night you came to my place?" It would take me a few seconds to rec all but once I factored in the obvious circumstances in that moment it quickly came to me. "Yes; you said that before anything else, you were just a Pimp." He smiled and s aid: "Exactly, well today you get to witness what that means beyond the fancy clothes and nice cars." At that time, I didn't pay any special mind to his words. I would laugh it off thinking that that day was just going to be written off as yet another fun ride-along with a drug kingpin; another Thursday amongst many others... A few minutes later, we pulled in front of an entrance door to a high end luxury apartment building. Kevin turned off the car then looked at me with a gigantic smile on his face and sa id: "Alright, today's lesson is collection. Are you ready?" I gave him a confused nod which seemed to be enough as he immediately pressed the button in charge of popping the trunk , then quickly got out of the car. I followed in his steps attempting to keep up the tempo, until I was hit with the first sign that today was just not going to be an ordinary day. Kevin had emerged from the trunk holding a forty pound sledge hammer. I raised my hands in a form of outrage and capitulation then said: "Woah!! What the hell is that for?" He cracked another one of his gigantic smiles which were now starting to come off a bit psychotic then said: "Just in case we need to open some doors silly. Come on' let's go.." He closed his trunk and immediately begun walking through the lobby doors holding the sledge hammer out in the open as if it was a Louis Vuitton carryall. What blew my mind however, was the voluntary indifference we got from the concierge staff as we walked towards the elevators as if this was a common scene in the building. Once we reached the elevators, Kevin pressed the 32nd floor button, then turned around to fix the collar on his thousand dollar shirt in the elevator mirror as if he was on his way up to a boardroom meeting. I felt a small sweat pearl run down my back as I began wondering if I was going to like what I was about to see. It wouldn't be long before a definite answer...

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Once the elevator doors parted open, I followed a few steps behind Kevin as he walked down the hallway with a jolly step. Once he reached apartment 3208, he stopped and said: "Alright , we are here." He then turned towards the door and gave it three unmistakeably menacing knocks. After a few seconds of not receiving an answer, he repeated the process again and said: "I know you are i n there Tasha, make it a lot easier on you and open the door.." Following a third attempt, a female voice finally rose from the other side of the door and said: "Go away Kevin, I will tell you the same thing I told your goons last night. It's my fucking mo ney.." Tasha McIntosh was a high end call girl from Las Vegas that Kevin had met at a cocktail party three weeks prior and invited down to be apart of the prestigious Regis House of Pleasures. But just like any young lady that had once been extended this most sought after invitation, she had to go through what Regis Enterprises referred to as boot camp; six months operating outside of the house of pleasures with the goal of a certain amount of money that had to be generated by an established dead l ine in order to demonstrate work ethic. No expenses were spared in order to make all candidates feel comfortable on their quest; anything from luxury apartments, to expensive cars and meal vouchers at high end restaurants were all put at their disposition. Under on e single condition however; they couldn't keep a single dime in cash of the money they generated during camp... "You know the rules Tasha, and that's not how it works. It costs me twenty thousand dollars a month to keep you here, I thought we had an unders tanding" said Kevin, attempting to summon the last little bit of patience that lied underneath the build up of rage that was now taking over him. "It's my fucking pussy Kevin; I make the damn rules.." That is when Kevin slowly closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and once he re-opened them, I immediately lost sight of the man I had now known for a little over a year. He signaled me to take a step back and in that same instant brandished the sledge hammer in the ai r, and in one hit sent the dead bolt on the door flying with a terrifying bang... The door would violently swing open to reveal a petite brunette in a white bath towel, she seemed to have frozen in space at the sight of Kevin holding a sledge hammer. Once her adrenaline finally kicked in, she attemp ted to run towards a bedroom but slipped on a nearby Alpaca throw rug and landed on the mahogany floor. By the time she managed to get back on her feet, Kevin had pounced like a vicious tiger and was now on top of her. He immediately grabbed a handful of her hair, pulled her to her feet, made some sort of sadistic eye contact , then propelled her a few dozen feet in the air until she landed on a nearby kitchen island breaking three wine glasses and a plate in the process...

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"Don't make me break your pretty l ittle face Tasha; where is my envelope?" said Kevin, as he started walking towards where she was laying crying on the ground on the edge of disorientation. Once he had gotten to her, he slowly reached for her neck and began lifting her back to her feet. Upon standing her up, he then pinned her against the stainless steel fr idge, while asking her to open her eyes and look at him.. She opened her eyes while struggl ing to loosen Kevin's grip off her neck; once she felt that her attempts were futile, a second f low of adrenaline shot through her body and she did the one thing that borderl ine signed her death certificate, not to say mine in the process... Tasha would reach at the bottom of her throat for some well stored phlegm, and without giving it a second thou ght, spit it right in the middle of Kevin's face and say: "Fuck you Kevin, I am not scared of you." He paused for a moment as if to absorb the impact of the projectile; he then slowly raised his unoccupied hand, touched the spit on his face, and tasted it. This borderl ine psycho act immediately signaled to Tasha and myself that the stakes in this argument had just been raised. "You are a tough little cookie aren't you sweetheart?" asked Kevin, with one of the most malignant smiles I am yet to see to this da y. Before she had had a chance to answer, Kevin violently backhanded her to the ground... He would then grab her by the hair yet again, and start dragging her towards the balcony doors. She kicked and screamed at him to let her go but Kevin seemed to be in a state of trance as he slid the doors open and continued to drag her towards the ledge. What happened a fterwards looked nothing short of a scene out of a Quentin Tarantino movie; Kevin would grab her by the neck while still holding on to her hair, then without giving it much thought, swing her over the 32nd floor balcony like a rag doll while still holding on to nothing more than a handful of her hair.. "Kevin!! Please!! Please!! I will get your money!! Please don't kill me Kevin, I will have it tonight" she kept screaming, once she realized that the only thing between her and a 32 stories fall was a few strands of hair and the sheer strength in one man's arm... Once the latter notion dawned on me as well, my hero complex immediately kicked in and I started rushing towards the balcony doors outside which stood Kevin, still holding her over the railing by the hair. "Dude, what the fuck are you doing? Bring her back over, this is fucking crazy.." But before I had a chance to reach the ledge and assist in brin ging her back up, Kevin would reach in his jacket and pull out a golden Beretta 9 milimitter and point it right at me. "Take a seat boy; the grown ups are talking." His tone that left no room for confusion as far as what his next move would be if his instr uctions were desobeyed. I immediately

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froze in my tracks and put my hands up; wondering what would happen the day I would have to testify about what was unfolding in court... Once he had made sure that I was no longer a threat to his dealings, he put his pistol back in his jacket and leaned back over the ledge where Tasha was still suspended mid-air. "You have until 9 PM tonight to have my money bitch, or I swear I will come back, set you on fire this time and throw you over this fucking balcony." At this point, her crying had gotten so hysterical that she was completely unable to formulate an audible sentence. What ever little words she was able mutter however, would earn her Kevin's clemency and he would pull her back over the ledge to leave her there to cry in phoetal position on the balcony... Once Kevin and I got back to the car, we sat there for the better part of a half hour without saying a word. A part of me was fuming; I had a mom and two sisters and something about watching a woman get treated the way Tasha had just been treated wasn't sitting well with me. Add that to the fact that I was in total disbelief after watching a man I considered a friend shamelessly pull a gun on me, and you had a recipe for a complete nervous breakdown. Despite my anger however, I knew that what Kevin had just done was the right thing to do under the then given circumstances. And staying upset with him was nothing short of shameless hypocrisy if I considered myself an advocate of my code... Law number 17 demanded the suspension in terror of others in order to avoid predictability. And that's literally and figuratively what Kevin had just done on that balcony. Tasha had made the mistake of believing that the Suave young man in a Tom Ford suit she had met in Vegas and had convinced her to travel a few thousand miles to come work for him, would hesitate even for a second if found compelled to act like the underworld figure he was. And as far as I was concerned, my mistake had been forgetting that despite being in Kevin's good books, he was still my boss. And that meant that if it ever averred itself necessary for him to give me a quick reminder of the fact in the name of the greater good, he wouldn't even blink twice... "You understand why all that up there happened right?" asked Kevin, in an effort to break what was now becoming a very uncomfortable silence. I took a deep breath and responded with a very isolated "Yup.." Upon my response, he immediately began to unscrew one of the five hundred dollar platinum cuff-links which bared his initials, and started rolling up his left sleeve. For a second my heart skipped a beat thinking that he was getting ready for a physical altercation. Once he had had it rolled half way up his arm, he then pointed at one of the multiple tattoos that called it home and asked: "What does that say?" I slightly leaned forward to take a better look then said: "GABOS?" He noded his head and said: "Yes, stands for "Game Ain't Based On Sympathy." Always remember that." It would quickly dawn on me that that had been my lesson all along. When it came down to the game, there could be no mercy. No one was off limits; including women and children. Kevin had not went up there to cause a raucous that early in the morning over an amount of money that couldn't even buy the shoe on his right foot.. He had went up there to send a message to 210

everyone on his collection list, that not following proper paying protocol was frowned upon.. I took a sip of my by now cold caramel machiatto, and decided to ask him a question that had been running through my mind for the last five minutes. "Hey, how come the concierge staff saw us coming in with a hammer and probably heard about all the noise upstairs but never called the cops on us?" He would crack a smile my way while pressing the start button to his car then say: "Oh, its because I'm the majority owner of the building..." I spent the following two days in my apartment trying to figure out what I was going to do with my life. I was still very adamant about no longer transporting narcotics; the risk was too big and I had a feeling that next time I wasn't going to get as lucky as the last one. I started debating an exit strategy. Despite my now slightly flashy lifestyle, I had still managed to put fifty thousand dollars of my hard earned money away in the only banking institution all self-respecting drug dealers frequented; the Nike shoe box. That was my rainy day fund, my get away cash if you would say. The only problem was, a part of me felt not ready to let go just yet. There was a little more to drug dealing than just the money now, the adulation was another important factor... I had after-all grown up in the heat of the hip-hop era; and being the snowman in a small University town got you more ass than being a wall-street banker. I loved the feeling of walking into a nightclub and having everyone begging to buy me a drink, then later on having those same exact people shower me with their money or in some odd instances even sexual favors, in exchange for my product. It was a beautiful world and I had grown very fond of it; I started asking myself what I would do for money if I decided to go legit. One night in particular, I would find myself so stressed by the subject that I consciously decided to get out of my apartment for relaxation purposes in order to avoid making a run for the razor blades. Twenty five minutes later, I was pulling up to the only place guaranteed to bring me solace when life gets tough; the strip club... Beyond the obvious reasons, there is one in particular that seals my love for strip clubs in stone. Out of the entirety of the female sampling menu, strippers are undoubtedly the best bang for your buck; for two reasons. One,They are very easy to pick up, and two, the majority of them are drop dead gorgeous. But what makes them easy to pick up is not the obvious reason most minds gravitate towards when debating the subject; which is money. Most strippers actually take pride in not participating in financially motivated intercourse because it gives them a certain sense of dignity. What renders them an easy pray however, is the fact that they all exhibit the same abandonment issues pattern. Disrobing for money is not a career choice; but rather the result of unavoidable circumstances that make said career the only option in their minds.. So if a man knows how to find the void inside of her and fill it with whatever is lacking, whether be love, companionship, a sense of recognition and so on, they are guaranteed a whirlwind of pleasures headed their way... The Sundowner was one of the most popular strip clubs in the Niagara region. Being very close to the border, it was very often frequented by Americans under the age of twenty one looking to be served alcohol because the legal drinking age in Canada is nineteen. Due to that one single reason, the place was always packed. On my walk towards the entrance, I noticed a line-up that almost stretched down the block. Not in the mood for waiting that night, I would 211

reach into my jeans pocket and pull out a stack of fifty dollar bills that amounted close to two thousand dollars. I grabbed one of the bills and walked past the line towards the bouncers. Once the main one noticed me, he raised his hand in an effort to signal me to halt... I would crack a smirk his way, then put out my hand to shake his. Out of reflex, he returned my handshake while telling me that I had to make my way to the back of the line and wait just like everybody else. His rhetoric would quickly change however, once the smooth feeling of a crisp fifty dollar bill made contact with his skin. While still holding my hand, he took a discreet look at the inside of my fist then said: "You know what bro, I think you are good." I responded with a smile and a wink as he grabbed the bill and quickly rushed to open the doors for me at the major discontent of the people that had been waiting in the front of the line for hours... Once inside the club, my nostrils were quickly greeted by the usual scent of pussy and cheap hair spray that haunts every strip club on earth. I took a good whiff and made my way towards the back of the club. After ordering a drink from an overly cheerful shooter girl, I took a seat at a table facing the stage and decided to unwind and enjoy the show.. Three minutes into a dance routine from a woman who looked like she lost out on an amazing career as a contortionist, I felt a hand gently rub the upper back of my neck. I then slowly turned to my left to find seated beside me, a blonde haired girl in her late twenties wearing a neon glow in the dark bikini. "Hello there handsome. What's your name?" I debated voicing my disinterest; but figured a little conversation wouldn't hurt especially view the fact that I had been cooped up in my apartment for the last three days. "Charles, my name is Charles. What's yours?" before giving me an answer, she would slide her chair closer to mine and whisper: "Skittles; my friends call me Skittles." I couldn't help it; I emitted a genuine chuckle at the sound of her stage name then said: "Like the candy?" She would then answer my chuckle with a wide smile indicating that this was the usual follow up question in these instances then say: "Yes like the candy, do you want to come to the back and taste me baby?" Without even waiting for an answer from me, she immediately moved in for the kill by grabbing a handful of my manhood and shamelessly licking my earlobe. This gesture would send a shockwave down my spine, prompting the unanimous decision of fucking her soul out as soon as I had the opportunity. As she started moving back however, my sight was caught by her nostrils... A very thin white powdery film had decided to elect her upper lip as a colony. Following the considerable amount of time now spent in my new profession, I had no doubt as far as its origin was concerned.. "Speaking of candy, where do you get yours from?" I innocently asked, as I ran my index finger alongside my nostrils to indicate exactly what I was talking about. She immediately began going on rant about how her dealer had been out of town for five days now and to add insult to injury she had just shared her last few lines with about ten of her co-workers who according to her were cheap sluts that never brought their own coke to work and felt the need to mooch off of her supply. She would then conclude her rant with yet another indecent proposal: "Honestly Charles, I will suck your cock on sight if you got a spare bump on you. I've been fiending for the last three hours.."

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I pretended to acknowledge her through a series of absent minded nods. But the truth is, her words at this point had become a far distant echo. I was a man in the midst of a Eureka moment. I started looking around the club and all I could see was dollar signs everywhere. Ninety percent of strippers needed cocaine to function as much as cars need gasoline. How had I not thought of it? There were no need for me to move product myself anymore; all I needed was a girl that I could trust in here to move the product in house on my behalf. My job would just be to make sure that she gets a package whenever she ran out, which in this environment would very possibly be quite often, and just let her worry about the distribution. This was genius; except for one minor detail... The right girl for the job would have to bar none be drug free in order to avoid her falling to temptation and snorting my profits, but I had more chances of becoming the next pope before finding a clean stripper. I immediately decided to begin my vetting process. I would spend the next three and a half hours engaging each and every single one of the little over thirty five girls that were working that night in conversation. One after the other, I observed their mannerisms, the way they carried themselves, their levels of energy and all of that on the look out for any tell tell signs of substance abuse. All I found were just potential clients. Exhausted and disillusioned, I decided to call it a night and head home until I noticed one final remaining girl that I had not spoken to because she was too busy collecting piles of cash from a constant flow of clients looking to take her to the Champagne room for private dances... I debated engaging her in that moment, but found it wiser to wait until the end of the night to make contact. I would wait in my car for a half hour before noticing her in the parking lot headed towards hers. I immediately got out and started walking in her direction; once I was within reaching distance, I gently tapped her on the shoulder and said: "Hi, my name is Roby and I'm a dance instructor. I couldn't help but notice that your splits on stage needed some slight tweeking so I figured we could maybe discuss your technique over breakfast?" She responded to my advances with a thorough up and down scan then said: "I'm sorry, but I don't go for breakfast with pimps," then resumed her walk away... Slightly shocked, I instantly reached for her arm in a gentle yet commanding manner then said: "Woah, whoah hold on pretty girl; What makes you think that I am a Pimp?" She turned around yet again to face me and resumed her detailed up and down scans then said: "Well let's see; for one you don't look a day over twenty five yet you drive an eighty thousand dollar car; not to mention that the watch on your wrist costs two years worth of mortgage payments in the suburbs. Look, you seem like a nice guy and all but just stop wasting your time ok? I'm not the girl for you." She then once again turned around and resumed the walk towards her car. As she did so however, the tiny tank top that she was wearing rose to reveal a set of discreet stretch marks indicative of motherhood. This was my sign from the heavens... In response, I took a step back, made sure to gather some emotion in my voice then said: "Look I didn't mean to be rude ok, my ex literally packed her shit and moved my kids 213

to Michigan without a single word to me today. I guess I am just lonely and was looking for someone to talk to. Sorry I bothered you; have a good night." I then turned around and started walking back towards my car with my fingers crossed. Before I had a chance to unlock my door however, her voice rose from a small distance behind me: "Wait, hold on a sec." Twenty minutes later we were pulling up into a nearby Denny's parking lot. My plan was officially in motion... Her name was Kathleen Nicholson; known to close friends and family as Kat, she went by the name of Miss Kitty when on stage. She was a 26 year old mother of two little girls from two different fathers at the time. She had started dancing shortly following the birth of her first daughter at the tender age of 19. Twenty minutes into our breakfast tete a tete, it became quickly evident that she was the perfect girl for my master plan. Unlike most strippers, she had a bigger reason than just expensive heels prompting her to subject herself to the unease of her chosen profession. But what put her at the top of the totem pole was the fact that she actually had an exit strategy in motion... For the last year, she had been taking courses at one of the local colleges in order to earn certification as a dental hygienist. This was the clear proof of the necessary foresight I had been hoping to find in my perfect candidate. But the cherry on top of the cake was the fact that she was absolutely stunningly gorgeous. This was an absolute prerequisite; in order for my plan to come to fruition I would have to pretend to fall madly in love with her and the latter was going to be a much easier performance in the presence of a certain level of physical chemistry... I did all I could to have her talk about herself under the pretense that I found her absolutely fascinating. And the more she shared, the clearer and simpler my plan kept on becoming. Both fathers of her daughters, one white and the other black, were both horrandeous dead beats. Unable to pay child support, they had left her at the mercy of her financial daemons; let alone the fact that they made little to no effort to be involved in their daughters lives... We would bond over the whole disgruntled ex lover motif when I elaborated on a previous lie about an angry ex-girlfriend who had decided to take it upon herself to pack up my imaginary son and daughter and move them to Michigan without any prior consultation with me. "I can't possibly imagine what you are going through" she said, as her hand reached across the table and grabbed mine in consolation. I would then make the decision of putting my lacrimal glands back to test in order to portray how distraught I was then say: "You are right, it is very hard and I wouldn't wish it on my worst enemy. But I can't help but feel that things got a little better in the last hour or so and I have you to thank for that.." That last part would make her blush profusely as she held onto my hand a little tighter and said: "Honestly, you are way too sweet for life." Half an hour later, we were engaging into a sultry make-out session as the elevator doors leading to my apartment parted open. By the time I finished wrestling with my keys while still fulfilling my responsibilities as a make-out artist, the passion had reached such unseen levels that we found ourselves 214

unable to make it to my bedroom and decided to begin intercourse on an Italian marble kitchen island that sat in the middle of my kitchen... In one raging sweep, I managed to clear several take-out containers to make enough room to see her seated comfortably. Then as we continued to trade saliva, I reached inside the pair of curve complimenting yoga pants that she had on in search of her pussy mound. She had gotten so wet at this point that her tight little bikini panties were now stuck onto her clit. I would eagerly remove all bottom articles of clothing and almost instantly start going down on her until she came on my tongue several times. Once I had made sure that she was as slippery as a baby seal, I got off my knees , lowered my pants and watched as she greeted my cock with an excited smile. I would then put my tip at the edge of her lips just to tease her a bit until she couldn't take it anymore and begged me to penetrate her as she pulled me closer. I would do exactly that until the fateful moment when we both exploded in gushing orgasms while sharing a kiss filled with animalistic passion... That night as she lied asleep on my chest following our heavy bump and grind session, I started going through the details of the plan I now had inside my head. What I intended to have her do for me would take a lot more than just some good cock to earn her cooperation. I needed to deepen her attachment; and I knew just how. At the top of her Maslow pyramid was a need to find a good and consistent father figure for her girls, that was her version of self-actualization. Providing them with the one thing she knew deep down she couldn't give them herself. And if I played my cards right, I could easily find myself in a position to fill that void, therefor rendering me indispensable and increasing the amount of leverage that I had on her... My chance at putting phase 1 of my plan in motion would arise the next morning, following a very steamy round 2 of our kitchen counter antics from the night prior. As we lied there breathless, in a sea of our own sweat and cum, she expressed how bad she felt for not having done enough summer activities with the kids and before you know it, it would be time for back to school. I immediately decided to pounce on the opportunity. "Well, I'm pretty much free the whole day, why don't we take them to Canada's Wonderland for the afternoon.." At first, she seemed a bit reticent about the idea of bringing me into her daughters' lives having just met me the night before. For anyone else, this would have meant capitulation; but with Law number 43 of my code which required me to work on the hearts and minds of others, I quickly figured out an exit strategy to lift her out of her well founded fear. "You are right babe; maybe it is too early. It's just that I was so excited to take my own kids this summer and now that I don't even know where they are I thought you would maybe allow me to feel a portion of that joy through yours. I'm sorry I shouldn't have asked." I then pretended to choke with emotion as I quickly made a strategic exit towards the washroom leaving her there to think... I spent the next five minutes leaning against my washroom sink, responding to emails. Once the five minutes were up, I decided to come back out. She had started getting dressed and as soon as she seen me coming out, she started walking my way, wrapped her arms 215

around my neck and kissed me with never before seen passion as she stood on the edge of her tippy toes. "Get dressed, we are picking up the girls from my dad's in an hour and going for breakfast first before heading to the amusement park." I let out a faint yet still slightly saddened smile and said: "Are you sure princess?" She would rise even higher on her tipy toes, kiss my forehead and say: "You are an amazing and loving man Roby, there is no reason why you shouldn't get to meet my girls." Three hours later, the back of my white on white Range Rover Sport which had in the past been the stage for some of the most devious sexual acts in the model's history, was now home to two car seats strapping two little girls ages three and six that were beyond excited about spending the day at the amusement park. I considered myself generally good with kids. Not because of any extended previous experience or anything, but because with children, there was no need for my code. Their needs were simple and in the open; everything was black or white. I threw a quick glance in my rear view mirror at those two little girls in the back of my car and started wondering what life would be like if I had to live for someone else other than myself. Having the responsibility of shaping a human life. What would I teach them? My code? Was I so proud of the person I had become since coming in contact with it that I would wish it upon my offspring to follow the same path? I would snap out of my little existential questionnaire once we got to the highway exit ramp that led to the park. I took another look in my rear view mirror then said: "Alright girls we are here, who is excited to get on some rides?!?" my enthusiasm would be immediately overshadowed by a series of: "Me!! Me!! Me!!" The following five hours would be spent making sure that Kat observed as I got closer and closer to her girls by the minute. Anything from caring them on my shoulders all through out the park, helping them clean food related messes, tying up shoe laces, buying ice cream and even giving swimming lessons were all components of my watch me play daddy act. And judging by how much her pupils dilated with excitement every time she glanced at us, phase one of my plan was working like a charm... Once we got back to her place, I helped her put the girls to bed and did not even flinch when Malaika her youngest one threw me the freebie of the century by asking me to read them a story. Two chapters into the tale of a boy who lived in a gigantic bean plant, they were fast asleep. We decided to relocate the party onto the couch. Following breakage into a bottle of wine, we decided to toss on a movie. Five minutes into the flick however, I noticed that Kat who was now laying with her head on my chest, had not taken in a single second of it since the opening credits. Instead, she was too busy staring at me with eyes that oozed with love and affection. Once I made note of it, I decided to ask the obvious. Not because I needed confirmation, but because the more she repeated it the more real in her mind it became. "What's up babe?" I asked, as I cracked a smile and took a sip of my wine... She took a deep breath as her pupils dilated even further than I had thought humanly possible without being under the influence of heroin then said: "Today was one of the best days of my life and I owe it all to you; thank you Roby. On behalf of me and my girls." A few tears immediately started running down her face and she quickly fought to wipe them off with the sleeve of the hoodie she had put on once we had gotten home and said: "God, why 216

am I so emotional?" I would immediately pull her closer to me, give her a long kiss on the forehead and another equally long one on the lips then say: "You and your girls are nothing short of amazing and you deserve all the world has to offer. All I ask for is a chance at proving to you that I can be that man to complete the circle in your lives..." That now concluded phase one and it was time to move onto phase two; my least favorite but highly crucial phase of my master plans. The purpose of phase two involved creating a contrast from one extreme to the other in order to feed the mind a sense of what it is like to lose the thing it cherishes the most in that moment. That same sense of loss due to how sudden and unexpected it is, creates so much mental turmoil that the person such pain is inflicted upon would do absolutely anything to never feel that way again. It's the same thing I had done with Erica a few years prior when I wanted her to start applying herself in school in order for her mother to notice a change in her and attribute it to my presence in her life; therefor leading to me living in her house rent free for almost a year. And just like I had done with her, I would have to invoke Law number 16 of my code in this case as well; by using absence to increase respect and honor... The following morning, Kat and I found ourselves awoken at what I considered an ungodly hour for anyone who had never had to deal with the responsibilities of parenthood, by her eldest daughter demanding some breakfast. Her sister had already jumped in bed with us from the night before and was still sound asleep in between Kat and I. "Kysiah, be quiet. You will be grounded for a week if you wake up your sister. You can wait for me in the kitchen, I will be right there" replied Kat, in a stern yet affectionate tone. She then gently rubbed my head to see if I was awake; a few kisses on my shoulder later, she asked if I could look after the little one while she tended to the needs of her eldest. I gladly agreed to do so as she gave me one more kiss on the forehead before hoping out of bed... As I lied there next to that little girl, my sight was caught by a purple Dora the Explorer back pack that sat on a nearby shelf. I came to the fast conclusion that it undoubtedly belonged to her, and as I did so, an idea sprung to mind. I could use this moment as one final act to fully seal in stone my work from the day before. In that same moment, I instantly began rummaging through my Versace Jeans pockets for my smart phone. Once in hand, I set its web browser to YouTube, raised the volume as far up as it could go and within a few seconds, the theme song to Dora was blaring through out the room. The little girl immediately rose from her sleep screaming: "Dowa!! Dowa!!" at the top of her little lungs while clapping her hands with excitement. "Yes Hunnie, Dora. Here come look" I replied, while handing her the phone and pulling her closer to me... Five minutes later, Kat walked into the bedroom doorway holding two cups of coffee and found herself literally frozen at the sight of a picture so heartwarming it belonged on Hallmark father's day cards. Her little girl was cuddled up to me amid a cute by slightly incoherent description of the show's characters to my greatly faked amazement. She would stand there for the better part of a minute as I pretended not to notice her presence due to the simple fact that the longer she stood there, the more indispensable that image was becoming to her happiness. Finally, she would decide to walk into the room, hand me 217

one of the cups of coffee and say: "So, what are you two misfits up to?" I took a sip of my coffee, sat the cup on a nearby by nightstand and said: "Well, Miss princess over here is telling me about a monkey named Boots." I then started tickling the little girl in order to move her to the side and make room for her mother. "Come join us mommy" I said, as I grabbed her coffee, sat it down next to mine, pulled her towards me and let her fall onto my lap. She immediately wrapped her arms around me and we began exchanging slow passionate kisses. And then out of nowhere, a slow stream of tears began running down her face. "Where have you been my whole life? I feel like I'm walking inside of a dream I never want to wake up from." Instead of taking a more sentimental route, I decided to opt for some comic relief by licking the tears off her face. "umm.. Tasty stuff, you should cry more often." She would instantaneously explode into a riotous laughter as she expressed her disgust at my buffoonery. I was time for my exit... "Babe look, I would love to stay here in this beautiful dream with you and these gorgeous girls but I unfortunately have to run. I have some summer school work due tomorrow morning that I am yet to start working on." She replied by making this adorable sad puppy face that I couldn't help but find charming then said: "When do I get to see you again?" I went on promising her that I would see her that same night, well knowing that I had absolutely no intention of doing so. But the latter was a necessary part of my plan; in order for phase two to begin its duty, I had to set her up for blows of disappointment. Twenty minutes later, I was behind the wheel of my car with a bit of a heavy heart... Regardless of the fact that I knew from the get go that the premise of Kat's and I relationship was solely strategical, I couldn't deny having had a great time with her and her daughters. She was smart, she was funny, ridiculously good looking, gave thunderous applause deserving blow jobs, had a good head on her shoulders, and on top of that, she was an amazing mother. It quickly became evident that it was going to take a lot out of me not to fall for her. But I knew better; I couldn't afford to let the heart dictate my ways in matters of business. Because feelings only bred one thing, and that was weakness. Law number 20 of my code urged against committing to anyone; it was within the maintenance of my independence from such feelings that lied the mastery of my surroundings... The first flow of phone calls and text messages inquiring about my whereabouts would start coming in around ten P.M that same evening. "Hey babe, didn't hear from you tonight. You must be caught up in your work so I won't disturb you. I just want you to know that I am thinking about you. :)" Phase two was officially underway. As days went by, the frequency of her attempts at contacting me grew in intensity and started becoming less and less civil. "I haven't heard from you in five days now. Which I think is rude because you are clearly declining my phone calls and my messages are marked as read so I know you are seeing them. Can you at least just let me know if you are okay?" The key to a successful phase two was timing; if I re-initiated contact too early while she was still in the anger phase, I would most likely find her in an uncooperative state which would render all my efforts null. The secret was to wait until the depression portion kicked in... 218

"You know what, I can't believe that you actually managed to fool me into believing that you and I had something real happening to the point where I brought you into my daughters' lives. When in reality all you wanted was pussy apparently. You are a piece of shit just like their fathers. I'm done, goodbye." Reading that text message borderline knocked the wind out of me. Even if I knew strategically speaking that everything was going according to plan, a side of me couldn't help but feel heartbroken at the thought of this beautiful woman thinking so little of me. It would take a mustering of all my inner strength to not re-initiate contact in that moment. It wouldn't be until three days into week two of total radio silence when she finally sent me a message clearly indicating that the depression phase was now well underway... "You know what, I thought about it and it can't possibly be you, it must be my fault. I just wish you could talk to me and tell me what I did wrong so I can change it. I've called you six times today and you still won't pick up. Please Roby, just talk to me and tell me what you want me to do and I promise I will do it." I had been out for dinner with Kevin and was now on my way home when that text came in. I began debating the possibility of a quick pit stop at her place in order to begin phase three but figured that showing up at Eleven in the night might give off a slight air of desperation; a mistake I couldn't afford so far into the procedure. Little I knew however, Kat had already beaten me to the punch... I pulled up into the underground parking lot of the Condo building in which I resided and got out of my car to head towards the elevator doors when the sight of a gray Dodge Durango truck struck me as familiar. At the wheel sat a brown haired woman who looked like she had fallen asleep waiting there. A few steps towards the car later, my suspicions were quickly confirmed; it was Kat. I instantly picked up my pace fearing the worst. Once I was within reaching distance of the vehicle, I immediately swung the door open and called out her name while moving a few hair strands away from her face. She slowly opened her eyes; they were blood shot red from hours of crying and waiting from me. "Are you okay baby girl?" She responded with a timid nod while another single flow of tears ran down her face; She seemed exhausted. I quickly removed the blazer I had on and threw it around her shoulders. I then lifted her from her seat, closed her driver door with my foot and started caring her in my arms towards the elevator doors. Once upstairs, I took her directly to my room, lied her on the bed, removed her heels and put a comforter over her. She was still drifting in and out of sleep, I began wondering if she had been drinking. Not wanting to take any chances as far as the livelihood of the ten thousand dollars Fendi rug in my bedroom was concerned, I thought it wise to grab a bucket, fill it up half way with water and set it on the side of the bed just in case nature violently called... The following morning, I opened my eyes at the usual crack of dawn to find her still asleep on my bare chest with her arm wrapped around my waist. I then kissed the top of her head while gently playing with her hair until she slowly began opening her eyes. "Good morning pretty girl." She slowly lifted up her head and as soon as we made eye contact, we found ourselves instantly rushing for each others' lips. A few seconds into our highly 219

animated make-out session, she began running her hand down my abdomen until she had reached the bridge of my boxers, and then without a single warning, she took hold of my morning wood with such vigor that it began cutting circulation onto the head of my shaft. Such a mix of pain and delightful pleasure awoke the monster in me on sight... She was still wearing the same curve complimenting little black dress she had had on the night prior. I immediately took hold of her wrist with enough strength to have her let go of my membrane and put both her hands on the headboard bars as I reached in a nearby drawer for one of my neck ties. I managed to pull out a light blue silk one and instantaneously began tying her hands onto those same bars they had been holding onto while prompting her to lay on her stomach. "Ou daddy, you are so kinky.." Her eyes were so full of lust that I nearly exploded in my boxers every time we made eye contact. Upon her statement, I grabbed a handful of her hair from the back, pulled on it with an air of viciousness and said: "Shut the fuck up" then spanked her ass so hard that I think the red imprint must still be present to this day... The latter drove her to the edge lustful madness. "Oh god, fuck me daddy." I grabbed the pillow I had been laying on, put it underneath her stomach in order to give her back an effortless arch, slowly began raising her tight little dress to reveal a lace thong of the same black, then as I gently kissed the small of her back said: "Nah baby, not yet. First, I wanna taste your sweet little pussy." She bit her lip in anticipation as I moved her little thong to the side and begun running the tip of my tongue up and down the edge of her flower from the back. As soon as I penetrated her with my tongue, she started bucking. In an effort to secure her, I put my arms underneath her hips, and locked my fingers on her lower back in a restraining movement. Unable to move much and on the verge of exploding on my tongue, she found refuge in the pillow she had lied on the night prior as she buried her head in it to muffle her intense screaming... On her third oral stimulated orgasm, I found myself unable to take it anymore. I took off my boxers in order to free the beast and began teasing her mound with the tip of my cock. Once her wetness had drawn downward every drop of blood in my upper body, tripling the size of the throbbing veins that called my manhood home, I finally decided to penetrate her. Her pedals were so wet and so tight that I feared her eyes would do a full 360 turn in her head the moment I fully entered her. I would start her off slow until I could no longer be gentle; leading into a severe pounding that made her squirt twice before I exploded inside of her in a fury of cum, sweat and breathlessness... Upon recovery of some basic motor skills, I finally untied her off the headboard. "Get up, I will make you some breakfast" I said, while patting around the floor for my boxers. She propositioned a shower first. A few minutes later, she emerged out of the bathroom with wet hair wearing nothing but one of my dress shirts to find me frying some eggs and bacon. "Orange juice?" I asked, as I poured a freshly squeezed batch in her glass. She took a seat across from me on the marble island and took a sip of her juice, but as soon as she did so, I immediately began sensing a certain level of tension. "How come I haven't heard a word from you in two weeks?" she asked, in a tone that left no confusion as far as how she felt about the latter. It was now time for the third and final phase of my plan... 220

I laid down the spatula I had been using to flip the eggs, turned down the heat, walked around the counter, took a seat beside her, grabbed her right hand and held it gently in between both of mine. "Kat, I haven't been fully honest with you" I said, attempting to buy sometime in order to gather enough emotion to make what I was going to say remotely believable. Her palm immediately began sweating. "Oh God, I knew it. You are married." I couldn't help but break out in a small laugh upon hearing her statement. "No babe, on that end I was fully honest with you. I was with my ex for a while and we had two kids together but nothing ever came out of it." A sense of relief seemed to overcome her in that moment but she still remained curious as to what I was now talking about. "So what is it then?" she asked, with still a distinguished air of fear in her voice... "All this" I replied, pointing around my apartment, "the car, my school, well I don't have rich parents paying for it. I am a drug dealer Kat." The look of relief that seemed to have intensified upon this latest discovery, out of nowhere morphed into anger. She quickly withdrew her right hand from my grasp at what seemed like the speed of light and slapped me mercilessly across the face. "This is why you put me through two weeks of pure hell? Because you thought I wouldn't accept the fact that you are a drug dealer?" Her frustration seemed to keep intensifying by the second. I began wondering if I had not done this way earlier than I should have. "I mean, I am a stripper for fuck sakes. How did you possibly think that I would judge your career choices?" I took a few seconds prior to answering then said: "That's precisely why I didn't tell you.." The confused look on her face grew even larger and she said: "What do you mean that's precisely why?" I took another deep breath for the purpose of readying my game face; and that is when I began. I went onto a long explanation about how I had been looking for ways of mitigating the risk in my current occupation, and one of the ways of doing so was to find someone who would help me move product inside the strip clubs due to a large client base and very little exposure. I would intentionally admit to her that that had been the purpose of my visit the night we met; but after getting to know her, I had fallen in love with her and her daughters but felt as though the premise of our relationship had originated from a lie and I just couldn't stand lying to her. So I thought walking away was the best way of avoiding hurting her because the thought of it alone was soul wrenching... She would listen to me with a deathly quiet without interrupting me a single time. Once she had made sure that I was finished, she managed to choke back a few tears and asked: "You are in love with me?" That was it; the buying question I had been waiting for. I was in, my code as usual had prevailed. "Yes Kat; I know it hasn't been long but I am indeed madly in love with you." She instantly leaped out of her seat and wrapped her arms around my neck. "I love you too Roby. You are an amazing man and I do intend to help you out with whatever you want." It would take everything out of me to conceal the victory smile that was now forming on my face upon hearing those words. But I needed to, I had to solidify my work...

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I gently pulled her away from me, put a few strands of her long brown hair behind her right ear, intensified eye contact and said: "Babe, you don't have to do this for me. I want you not because of what you can do for us; but because when I am with you nothing else, not even money seems to matter." She bursted into a giggle that was quickly followed by more tears. "I want to do this for you baby. I want to be your ride or die chick. That girl that will go to the moon and back for you." I immediately pulled her back towards me and we began embracing passionately. "Are you sure baby girl?" She gently grabbed my temples with both hands, kissed my forehead and said: "I have never been more sure of anything in my life..." Regardless of the fact that it would all come crumbling down alongside every other aspect of my existence in a mix of mournful sorrow and disillusionment a little over three months later, I still managed to put together an exquisite operation centered around Kat. The plan was simple; I showed up at the club at around seven O'clock every night with a McDonald's bag containing an ounce of coke divided in one gram baggies buried underneath a couple of cheeseburgers. To the bouncers at the door, I was just an over-caring Pimp who showed love to his girl by clogging her arteries with sub-par nutrition. I would take a seat in the back, order a drink and a few minutes later, Kat would join me. We would usually talk for a bit before she made off to the back with the bag in hand and I showed myself out. Between the girls that worked in the club and the patrons that frequented it, the ounce would usually be gone half way through her eight hour shift... I couldn't have moved the weight any faster if I was working the corners of Baltimore Maryland in the mid-eighties. The cherry on top of the cake, was the fact that on top of street prices, we tucked on a convenience fee for having the fun powder so readily available to a drunken clientele that was in dire need of it to sustain the good times. On an ounce where I was usually clearing nineteen to twenty five hundred bucks if I peddled it gram by gram to students in night clubs, I was now making an extra thousand doing barely one tenth of the work. And as if life could not have gotten any better, one night Kat would introduce me to two of her friends who worked in two less popular but just as busy strip joints in town. They were looking to supplement their incomes and had heard of the business opportunity I had graciously blessed Kat with... After negotiating an eighty five percent take, we finally struck a deal. Overnight, I went from clearing fifteen thousand on a six day work week to thirty five thousand on weeks that had long weekends. All I had to do was play house with Kat as often as I could and make sure that the girls got their product delivered to them at the beginning of every shift without fail; the rest was just a matter of kicking back, playing Xbox in my condo and collecting my stacks of cash at the end of every night. Three months into the whole thing, I was feeling like nothing short of a kingpin. And my Nike shoe box which had now well over a hundred fifty grand stacked into it, hadn't been the only thing to take notice. So had fate; and it was about to deal me a few blows that would require a piece of my soul in order to rise from them... One September morning, I found myself woken up way earlier than anyone should on a Saturday, by the loud ringing of my business line. It could only be one of two people and 222

the second one was Millo and I was the one usually contacting him, not the other way around. Without even looking at the caller ID, I flipped open the phone and answered with my head still buried in the pillow. "Kev, I know you are my boss and all but I think you calling me at this time is a clear violation of some pretty major labor Laws." He let out a small slightly obnoxious laugh then said: "I have pictures in my safe of the labor minister getting his balls gobbled by an 18 year old Korean girl. Good luck with your claim." The sad part was this was actually a fact... "Rise and shine princess, I am downstairs." The latter finally prompted me to open my eyes. "What? What are you doing downstairs at eight in the morning on a Saturday?" A surge of excitement suddenly took over his tone of voice. "I got two backstage passes to the Jay-Z concert in Montreal tonight. You are coming with me and we are staying there the weekend; pack light." Before I had had a chance to object to his proposal of a little brocation, he immediately hung up the phone leaving me wondering if this is how he always got yeses out of people. Not too long after, I was tossing my Louis Vuitton carry-all in the trunk of his Bentley Continental GT and we were hitting the road... A little over two hours later, He pulled into a park&fly parking spot at Pearson international airport in Toronto. Once we got inside the terminal, I began walking towards a nearby ticket sales counter. "So are we buying tickets on the next flight out, or what are we doing?" I asked, as I threw a quick glance at a board stained with a sea of delayed flights. He threw another one of his signature "you are so silly" Kevin laughs my way then said: "Tickets? Nah kid, I work too hard to fly commercial, I charted a jet. We are covered." He then turned around and started walking towards a nearby VIP terminal... I had never been inside a private jet until that day. But regardless of the latter, it didn't take much to realize that this was not your average jet. It was a Gulfstream G650, the mother of all private jets, complete with an on board chef and two flight attendants ready to cater to any of our capricious needs on the little over 45 minutes trip from Toronto to Montreal. "Hi, my name is Stella and I will be tending to anything you need on this flight. May I start you off with a glass of champagne?" Before we had even had a chance to give her a yes or no answer, she handed Kevin an I two crystal flutes containing some Veuve Coqueliquot that was most likely older than I was. Kevin then raised his glass for a toast and said: "To the lifestyle of the rich and famous; the only reason why we grind as hard as we do." As I sat there unconsciously running my index finger along the rim of a gold plated cup holder with my head lost in the clouds, an indescribable feeling suddenly took over me. No more than a little under four years before that day, my whole entire family had been sharing a single bedroom inside a refugee shelter. And now here I was; sitting on a ten thousand dollar an hour flight, sipping six hundred dollar champagne as if it was water. Add that to the fact that I had no problem in my life at that moment that I couldn't financially tackle and you had a recipe for a complete moment of bliss. For the first time in my life, I began feeling like I had made it further than my father had ever done at his highest pinnacle; and I was only 21 years old...

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That night, Kevin and I watched the Jay-z concert from behind the stage right curtains, standing amongst a horde of hockey players, Italian mobsters and whoever else was considered a somebody on the Montreal social scene. A few minutes before the end of the show, Kevin turned towards me and uttered the last few words you ever want to hear out of the mouth of a man you just witnessed doing three shots of Patron in a row. "Come with me, let's go for a drive." Once outside the venue, the Valet pulled up next to us in the canary yellow McLaren P1 Kevin had rented for the weekend, and there we were shortly after, doing 120 km/h right in the middle of busy downtown Montreal... "Where are we going?" I asked, while attempting to reach for some sort of "holly shit" handle in a car that had a stronger UFO feel than anything else. Following an aggressive overtaking of a semi-truck and barely missing a massive construction LED sign by a hair, Kevin kicked the car into higher gears then said: "To the top baby, where else can we be going?" Ten minutes later, we pulled up to a large black gate in the upscale Montreal neighborhood of Westmount. After entering a code on a nearby keypad, the gates began to slowly part open as we resumed our drive at a much more considerate speed this time. The little under half a mile gravel driveway up to the house was surrounded by an extremely well maintained arboretum on both sides which gave the property more of a country estate air than an urban manor... From a first outside glance at the mansion, the first thing to come to mind was the fact that calling it a mansion was nothing short of a blasphemous understatement. The thirty four thousand square feet, sixteen bedrooms, twenty four bathrooms five-storey mega-palace sat on a three acre fully enclosed plot of the most expansive land in the region. But as if that had not been mind boggling enough, everything from the interior to the exterior of the property had been meticulously modeled after the palace of Versailles by the previous owner; a shipping tycoon from Quebec City with taste buds that demanded nothing but the best this world could possibly offer...

As Kevin and I stood there admiring a gargantuan copy of the famous David's painting of Napoleon Bonaparte that covered the entirety of a 10 feet wall inside one of the two ground floor libraries, he slowly turned towards me and asked: "So, what do you think of the place? Do you like it?" I couldn't help but chuckle at such an oversimplified outlook on how I was feeling in that moment. "Dude, babies are likable, good black Friday deals are likable, decent blow jobs are likable. This, this is the dream that my dreams have in their sleep." He smirked at my answer, walked towards a near-by mini bar, poured some twenty thousand dollar Remy Martin Louis the 13th cognac in two glasses, handed me one of them then said: "Well, I'm glad you feel that way. Because in a few weeks this will be your new home..." The three hundred dollar sip of my drink I had just taken immediately landed on the floor the moment his statement reached my ear drums. "What? What do you mean this is going to be my new home in a few weeks? You own this place?" He raised his glass in toasting fashion then replied: "Yes Sir I do, as of yesterday morning. You my friend are 224

standing on the grounds of the second Regis House of Pleasures. A few weeks from now, this place will be crawling with the most premium pussy money can buy and the Montreal elite to buy it. And I want you to relocate here and quarterback the whole thing." Very few times in my life I could say that I had ever found myself at a genuine loss for words, and this was one of them. What he was proposing was beyond a promotion; this was going from a low level division chief to chairman of the board over night... "Look Kev, I really don't know what to say man. I mean don't get me wrong I am beyond honored by your vote of confidence but in all honesty, are you sure that I am the man for the job? You have at least a hundred people in your organization more qualified than I am, why me?" He let out a laugh as he took another sip of his drink then said: "I heard about your new strip club hustle; That shit is genius. Rob look, a few months from now prostitution will be legalized in Canada; which will make the RHP not only a legal but also legitimate business. I don't need your classic Pimp at the helm of the operation. I need someone with tact, finesse, and an understanding of the functioning of power and human psychology. Not a thug that will beat the girls into submission. That era is over and done with..." My throat suddenly began knotting. Not because of my new promotion, the piles of money I was soon to make or the hundreds of honeys that were soon to be under my direct command. But instead, It was due to the fact that Kevin was the only person in this world other than myself, who was truly aware of the talent and set of skills my code afforded me. "Alright Kev, I will do it." Upon hearing my positive answer, he instantly sprung forward and gave me a strong hug. "Oh man, we are about to make a killing. Make sure you call your accountant and get him to hire an assistant to help him crunch the numbers. Because there are going to be a whole bunch of zeros.." On the flight home the following afternoon, all I could think about was Kat. I was going to have to find a way of letting her down easy. But no matter how hard I tried, my mind just couldn't conceive a way of going about it. I had watched her go above and beyond the last three months doing whatever I asked of her for my pure financial benefit without asking a single question or utter one complainant word. On top of that I had now become a fixture in her daughters' lives; which meant that I now had three hearts to break instead of one. The thought of it alone made me sick to my stomach. But regardless of the latter, I knew that I just had to do what I had to do. Broken hearts were nothing more than just the cost of doing business... Upon landing, I turned my phone back on to find two unred text messages. The first was from my sister Marie asking me if I was coming home for Thanksgiving. And the second was from Kat: "You need to come see me as soon as you get back to town. We need to talk and it can't wait." I began wondering what could possibly be the matter. If it had something to do with the business I would have found out already; I had made sure to get two of the bouncers at the club on payroll to make sure that she was safe from any ill intentioned individuals who might want to rip her off or even worse, rob my product. So this meant that whatever she wanted to talk about was personal... 225

Three hours later, I laid three soft knocks at her apartment door with sweaty palms at the thought of the conversation I was about to initiate. A couple deep breaths would lead me to the final conclusion that making this as quick and painless as I possibly could was just the humane thing to do in this case. Knowing myself, I knew that if I didn't do it tonight it would drag on until the day I had to pack my bags and get on a plane which would eat at me for a very long time view all she had done for me. The least I could do was give her ample time to come to peace with my new move. She deserved at least that. Little I knew however, I was the one in line for what I still consider the rudest awakening of my life to date... Following another set of knocks, she finally opened the door wearing nothing but a pink sports bra and some sweat pants. "God, is there anything you don't look astonishing in?" I said, left breathless at how amazing she looked with her hair up. She immediately leaned in the door, stood on her tipy toes and kissed my upper lip. "I missed you baby, how was your bro weekend?" Her question would lead into a half hour of small talk until I started noticing a growing level of unease as minutes went by. I suddenly remembered her text message from earlier; apparently I wasn't the only one with a thing or two on my mind. "So babe, you said you wanted to talk and it was urgent. Is everything alright?" Upon hearing my question her eyes suddenly shifted in fear as she slid closer to me on the couch and said: "Yes, we do need to talk. I just don't know how to tell you what I need to tell you." In my mind, I instantly began to cross my fingers hoping to God that she was about to tell me something along the lines of: "I can't move product for you anymore." Which would make my next move a hell of a lot easier to play if I could manage to paint her as the instigator of our demise. I grabbed her left hand and held it with both mine then said: "You know there is nothing you can't tell me baby girl," then gently kissed her forehead. She would then reach for the half glass of wine that was sitting on a nearby coffee table, chug the entirety of the content then say: "Ok, there is no easy way of putting this so I am just going to come out and say it.. I am three weeks pregnant Rob." The next few seconds that followed that rather unsettling news would feel like the peak of a heroin trip. The room immediately began spinning around me and I felt as though my whole entire world had just been sucked into a black hole. Out of reflex I instantly let go of her hand as if I had just noticed early signs of Ebola and sprung up from the couch at the speed of a little girl that had just seen a mouse. "What? When did you find out?" I asked, as I poured the remainder of a bottle of wine in the glass she had just drank from and proceeded to follow her example. "Last night, my period was late for a week so I decided to take a test" she replied, as she buried her head in her knees and began crying... At the sight of her reaction, all notion of decency immediately left my mind and I turned into caveman mode. "Look this is no fucking time for tears ok, shape up. You need to call a clinic tomorrow first thing in the morning and you need to get this taken care of." At this point I had begun pacing around the apartment like a mad man which made her even more scared. "Well that's a bit fucking presumptuous. Don't you think we should at least talk about this? Go over our options? Please Rob sit down" she begged, as she got up 226

with a face covered in tears to come closer to me. Before she had reached where I stood however, my rage would hit boiling point and I would propel the glass of wine I had in hand against the wall. She let out a shrieking scream as she scurried back towards the couch. "You have two kids with two different men and I have no intention of being the third one. You are making that appointment tomorrow; end of fucking discussion Kat!!" I then walked towards the front door and slammed it shut in anger behind me as I left her apartment... Upon getting back in my car, I attempted to start it but the nauseous feeling I then felt had intensified to the point that I rushed back out in an effort to not vomit the potato soup I had had for lunch on the flight all over the white interior. Once I had hurled the entirety of my stomach's content, I crawled back inside my truck and began banging my head against the steering wheel in desperation. In a matter of just a few hours, I had went from being on top of the world to feeling buried underneath a seatrain. I was a 21 year old drug dealer, I had no business taking on the responsibility of raising another human life. I would make it back to my apartment by the grace of God and immediately decided that a Marijuana induced coma was the only thing I could possibly rely on to ease the pain of the thoughts that now ran through my mind... I woke up the following afternoon to find a text message from Kat on my phone. "I decided to grant you your wish. I have an appointment at the general hospital tomorrow morning. I don't want you to ever come anywhere near me ever again. Good bye Rob." A swift rage suddenly took me over and I lunged my phone across the room. Once my mind began to settle, my anger would start to morph into sadness. That is when I began wondering what the actual source of it all was; what or who was I truly mad at or about? It couldn't possibly be Kat because I was not stupid to the point of ignoring the fact that it took two to tango. The truth was that I was mad at myself more than anything. I had reacted like a coward in front of adversity and had decided to take it all on the poor mother of my unborn child. My anger had been motivated by a sense of loss; because I figured that having a child meant foregoing the opportunity I had just been handed... Once the sorrow revealed itself yet again unbearable, I decided to seek refuge in the only thing capable of silencing my mind back then; shameless substance abuse. I got out of bed and dug out a bottle of vintage Johnny Walker that had been sitting in my liquor cabinet and began downing it as if my life depended on it. Add that to a series of multiple bong hits and I was back into my coma a few hours later. That night, I would dream of my mother, who had went through the same exact thing I was going through in a much more unforgiving setting. She had gotten pregnant with me at 23 years old living in a place where the culture considered pregnancy out of wedlock subjects to be nothing more than Godless hussies. What if my father, armed with way less resources than I did, had forced her to take the coward way out; just as I was about to? The following morning, I attempted to open my eyes at around ten in the morning but found the process met with much difficulty. Once I finally got over the throbbing pain in my frontal lob, I began assessing the damages from the night before. The floor was covered in Doritos and bong water, which I had most likely tipped in my sleep. But the paragon of 227

my drunken stupor was the fact that I had lost control of my bladder and completely sullied the whole entire middle of my five thousand dollar sectional. A strong feeling of discouragement suddenly took me over and I laid my head back down. A few seconds later, a voice rose in my head and asked the one question that would see me sprung to my feet in an attempt at remedying the wrongs I had committed. "Is the preservation of this life you are living right now worth the one of your unborn child?"

Without even giving it a second thought, I instantly got on my feet, threw on the first shirt I could grab and began bolting towards my car still drenched in a putrid mix of urine and liquor. A few seconds later, I was doing 150 Km/hour in a 60 zone on the way to the hospital. I began praying to God out loud for what was the first time in a very long time. "God please, let it not be too late and I swear I will dedicate my life, energy and might to your servitude. Please God let it not be too late." I kept repeating those same words until the moment I screeched to a halt in front of the hospital main entrance and leaped out of my car without even bothering to close the door behind me. I then began running through the hospital hallways like a mad man in search of an information desk. Once I had finally reached one, I shamelessly cut in front of the two people ahead of me. "Kathleene Nicholson!! What room?!?" I asked, as I attempted to catch my breath... The attendant threw one look my way and immediately figured out that this was a case of life and death. She began typing her name in the computer but every second that she took felt like a year; that is when I snapped. "What fucking room lady?!?!?" Startled, she almost knocked over the coffee that was sitting beside her keyboard and let out a faint: "305, she is in room 305." That is when I began furiously running again. Not wanting to wait for the elevator, I decided to take the stairs which I climbed a set of four at a time until I reached the third floor. I then began my frantic search for the room until I saw it at the end of the hallway and rushed through the door with manic desperation... To this day I shall never forget that particular instant of my life. The first person I noticed the moment I walked through the door, was Kat's sister; Jen. She was seated in a chair next to the bed where Kat lied with an ivy needle stuck in her hand. Slightly startled by my brute entrance they both turned towards me with a fearful look in their eyes and I immediately noticed that Kat had been doing some heavy crying. "What the fuck are you doing here? Didn't I tell you I never wanted to see your face again?" she screamed, as more tears began to run down her face. That is when it finally dawned on me that it was too late; the deed had been done. The feeling in my legs instantly disappeared and I collapsed on my knees and began to sob inconsolably... I had just killed my unborn child out of sheer selfishness. I began wondering if this was something I could possibly live with. I had never felt such devastating heart ache and every breath that I took felt as though I had just swallowed a thousand razor blades. I began crawling on the floor towards Kat's bed; all I wanted to do was hold her, share my pain with her, the only person in this world who understood how I felt in that moment. But as 228

soon as she noticed me getting closer, she became extremely frantic. "Get the fuck out of here!! Don't come anywhere near me!! I fucking hate you!!" she kept screaming those same words over and over again and at such a high anxious pitch that two male nurses rushed in the room and began to drag me off the floor. "Baby I'm sorry!! please forgive me!! I'm so sorry!!" I wept, as the nurses continued to drag me out... Once outside the room, they finally released me. "Sir, I'm sorry but you have to leave. She doesn't want you here." Heart broken, disillusioned and not to say utterly devastated, I began walking towards the hospital exit. The only thing on my mind at that moment was Whiskey; and lots of it. It was going to take a few barrels to numb the pain. Once I pulled out of the hospital property, I immediately noticed a bar across the street while sitting at a red light. Without even waiting for the light to change, and with no regard for oncoming traffic, I slammed the gas and B lined over a curb and across the street. To say that I had absolutely no regard for my own life in that moment would have been putting it horrendously lightly. Yet little I knew, I was a few minutes away from yet another life changing blow... I took a seat at the bar and was quickly approached by a bar tender that looked to be in his late fifties. "What can I get for you pal?" without even hesitating I replied: "Tripple Jack Daniels, neat." One look at my puffy red eyes was the giveaway he needed to figure out that I was having a really bad day, that is when he obliged and as soon as he poured the drink, I immediately downed it and asked for another one. "Woah, you want to take it easy there buddy? It's only noon. Having a rough one or what?" Not being in the mood for negotiations, I reached in my pocket for two hundred dollar bills and sat them on the bar. "That's your tip. Leave the bottle and refrain from saying another word to me until I leave." Shocked by such an exorbitant tip and straight forward statement, he grabbed the bills off the counter, examined their legitimacy and once satisfied sat the bottle beside me and walked towards another patron... I would sit there drowning my sorrows for the better part of an hour until the moment my pity party was interrupted by the loud ringing of my business line. I nonchalantly pulled it out of my pocket, threw a quick look at the caller ID and proceeded to ignore the call; it was Kevin. Within the space of a second later, he called back again and I repeated the same process. But before I had even had a chance to put the phone back in my pocket, he called again. This was not like him; that is when I finally decided to pick it up. "Kev, look man I really can't talk right now OK. I'm gonna have to call you back." Before I had had a chance to finish my sentence however, he quickly interrupted me in the most alarmed tone and said: "Shut up and listen to me very carefully. Whatever you do, you need to leave the fucking apartment this instant!! The cops are on the way if not there already. You need to destroy that phone and get out of town right now!!!.." Those would be the last words I would ever hear from my friend and mentor Kevin Regis. In a matter of seconds, the entire world I had worked so hard to build over the last year and a half came crumbling down like a house of cards. What had happened was that the night before, Millo's house had been the subject of a surprise police raid following a tip from one of the many enemies he had made on the streets. The result was a record 229

breaking finding of twenty five kilos of cocaine and a little over three hundred grand in cash. With his priors, he was easily looking at twenty years in prison. And the only way to remotely bring that number down was to hand the feds an even bigger fish. That is when Kevin would come to learn that in life, people are loyal until it was no longer opportune to be... Within hours, the cops would track down the entirety of the list of all properties under Kevin's name. And one of them was the apartment I had called home for the last year. My lack of good credit had just saved me from some serious prison time considering the fact that if the cops searched the place, they were bound to find the little under half a kilo that was sitting in my ceiling. Once I hung up the phone, I began wondering where I was going to go. That is when the true gravity of the situation suddenly dawned on me; my money, every single penny I had saved from my dabbling in the drug game was all in that apartment. My hand immediately began shaking. According to Kevin the cops could possibly be there already... I sprung off my stool and started running towards my car. A few seconds later, I was burning red lights carelessly rushing to get to the apartment. Once I was two streets over, I parked the car, grabbed a spring jacket and a fedora that were sitting in the back seat, tossed them on and began walking towards the building. Once I turned the corner on King Street, I found myself stricken by one of the most horrifying sights of my life. There were about nine Royal Canadian Mounted Police cruisers and a S.W.A.T transport vehicle parked right out front. As I stood there frozen in fear, I watched one of the over twenty police officers on the scene come out of the building carrying an evidence bag containing the Nike shoe box that held the little under a hundred and eighty grand of my hard earned money. It was all over... I walked back towards the car and once I hopped back in, I couldn't find the strength to drive away. I felt as though I wanted to explode in a hysteric crying fit but my body wouldn't release any tears. I suddenly felt more alone than I had ever been in my entire existence. Life had once again chewed me, spat me out and stomped on me for emphasis. I then pulled out a pack of cigarettes and lit one; as I exhaled the smoke, I began wondering which part of my code could possibly protect me against the feeling of sudden and unforeseen rock bottom. But I couldn't find a single Law to my rescue. That is when I decided to shut my eyes and go to sleep; hoping that I would wake up to find out that this was all nothing but a bad dream. Two hours later, I would with much sorrow separate from the last piece of property that linked me to Kevin; my car, which was on his credit card. And hop on a bus towards Ottawa... The twilight zone... So there I was, with nothing but the outfit on my back and three hundred dollars in my wallet on an 8 hour coach bus ride towards the Canadian capital. My initial option had been to go back to my parent's house which was a mere 45 minutes outside of St. Catharines. But aside from the fact that I really was in no mood to explain the prodigal son's sudden return, the fear of getting dragged out of there by an RCMP SWAT team any day now would have driven me to 230

madness. That is when I had decided to opt for the Ottawa alternative. My sister Jocelyne had relocated there for school a couple of years prior and I knew that she would have no issue granting me asylum until I had figured out a way of getting back on my feet... As I sat on that bus, with my head pressed against the foggy window due to the fact that I felt unable to carry its weight, I began debating my options. "What am I going to do now?" I kept asking; I sure as hell couldn't go back to dealing cocaine; I had no millionaire organized crime boss to lead me through the trenches and the risk had just availed itself not to be worth the reward. That is when it dawned on me that I was going to have to find a real job. My days of waking up at three in the afternoon and making double someone's monthly income by nine at night were over; and with it, my extravagant lifestyle. Suddenly, my depression which I thought could not have deepened any further, instantly reached never before seen levels... I finally got off the bus at around one in the morning to find my sister waiting for me outside the station doors. "You didn't bring a single bag?" she asked, puzzled by my showing up empty handed. "It's a long story and I am way beyond tired to tell it. Let's grab a cab" I replied, as we exchanged a warm embrace. Following a 20 minute cab ride marked by a series of absent minded small talk on my part, we finally arrived out front of her apartment building. She had been living in a five hundred square feet 1 bedroom bachelor apartment on the 19th floor of a housing project high rise that stood in a neighborhood mainly populated by east African immigrants. "That's your bed pal, make yourself at home. I'm off to bed" she said, pointing at a small leather love seat that was sitting in the middle of what I assumed consisted of the living room... As I took off my jacket and sat down on that tiny couch, the thought of my six thousand dollar a month now long lost apartment came to mind. Everything I considered mine was now sequestered behind some police yellow tape; either that or sealed inside some evidence bag. The previous weekend in Montreal suddenly felt as though it had been eons in the past.. For the entirety of the following month, I would spend my days smoking every single leaflet of pot I could get my hands on and watching soap operas until my sister got home from work to provide me with the only form of human contact I could bare to interact with. Every night would then be spent the same way as the previous one; smoking pot, watching television and eating Chinese take-out from the restaurant across the street because it was the only thing that we could afford... Once my monetary resources dwindled down all the way to a mere forty dollars, it quickly became evident that I had to find some sort of income stream and fast, if I still hoped to at least manage to cater to any of my basic needs like food and clothing which I was in dire need of. But regardless of the fact that I was well aware of the gravity behind the situation at hand, I couldn't bring myself to shake off the shame factor in the equation. The past year had gotten me used to a level of standard so high that the thought of possibly putting on construction overalls and taking orders from a man with a grade eight education and bad teeth revealed itself unbearable. I suddenly began wondering if this is how my father had felt when he went from being a big shot Lawyer to a mere taxi cab driver...

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"Look I don't know what's going on with you and I've tried to stay out of it as much as I could but it's really time you got out of the apartment and found a job. My hydro bill came today and it's twice over my budget. I am going to need some help if you intend to stay here." That was my sister's way of telling that the honeymoon phase was over and I was no longer a guest but a roommate who now had the duty of sharing the household responsibilities. I would spend the following day handing out resumes to any plausible employer in a five mile radius. Anything from restaurants to coffee shops to call centers, grocery stores and even the local Walmart. Two weeks later, I received my first call back. It was from a local chain of franchised grocery stores called NoFrills. They were in need of a cart-boy... The latter's main responsibility consisted of gathering shopping carts left in the parking lot and bringing them back inside the store for reuse. When asked by the manager the reason behind the little over a year gap on my resume, I debated telling her that I had been employed as a narcotics trafficker for an organization strongly tied to the mob but deemed it safer to give her some sort of excuse about having had to focus on my studies in order to bring up my grade point average. She appeared to buy it and decided to give me the job on the spot. The following two months would be nothing short of a stroll through the valley of the shadow of death. With no Lord as my Sheppard... It was now mid-November and the gruesome Ottawa winter was starting to have its' presence felt. I usually spent five of my eight hour shift outside collecting carts from six in the morning in a foot of snow on certain days, and when I was not running back and forth between the store entrance and the parking lot, I was cleaning either washrooms or some sort of spill in any given isle. To call the experience extremely humbling would have been putting it insultingly lightly. My first week in, I began noticing that people were starting to find extremely peculiar the fact that I always wore the same outfit to work everyday. As the whispers in the lunch room got louder and louder, it became quickly evident that I had to do something about it before an unflattering nickname ensued from the entire ordeal... With nothing but eighteen dollars to my name and not expecting my first paycheck for another week, I decided to go attire shopping at the only store within my budget at the time; the salvation army. After swinging the store's door open to the sound of a bell I personally felt screamed: "This guy is one breath a way from rock bottom," I was warmly greeted by a middle aged female store clerk with a salt-pepper hair. I would timidly ask her to show me to the man section while avoiding all forms of eye contact and she would respond by pointing out a series of red and white bins that sat in the far right corner. Following a little over an hour of rummaging through a series of shirts that looked like they had once served as family heirlooms, I began feeling some initial tell-tell signs of a nervous breakdown... Where were those ten thousand dollar Saturday afternoons spent luxury shop hopping on Bloor Street downtown Toronto now? Feeling short of breath and with a dizzy head, I decided to take a seat on the floor in one of the corners of the store and begun a series of sobs muffled with the help of what had once been a glorious Hawaiian shirt. No matter how hard I tried, I just couldn't come to peace with how unsatisfactory my life had yet again gotten, even though it clearly wasn't my first rodeo. As I sat there lamenting about the loss of joys from a a past life,

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a voice suddenly rose from the confines of my soul. "Stop being a little bitch and remember Law number 36 of your code..." No better self-given advice could have been more applicable in that moment than the disdain of the things I couldn't have. I all of a sudden began to feel a resurgence of shame; but not because of the fact that I had went from shopping at Louis Vuitton all the way down to browsing thrift store bins. Instead, it arose from the thought of having spent the last two months feeling sorry for my self well knowing that I had been down in life before and had manged to rise from my difficulties over and over again. No matter my present circumstances, the only thing I had not been robbed of was a single choice; between laying down and playing the victim as life senselessly beat me upside the head or taking a stand by deciding to meet my challenges head on with all my might and knowledge until I was yet again the master of my fate... That night on my walk home through the snow, I would make a firm decision that I still live by to this day. I was no longer going to allow my present circumstances to dictate how I perceived myself. What had happened had happened and there was not much if anything that I could do to change it. What I could do however, was decide in which direction I was going to orient my next step going forward. Suddenly Kevin's wise words rose to my mind again: "the difference between a chump and a gangster is what one does when shit hits the fan." I abruptly found myself missing him very much; I had recently found out through old connections that he had been sentenced to ten years in prison. If I was still out roaming the free world, it meant that a greater purpose awaited me. Not only gratitude was owed to the heavens but it was also my duty to find out the nature of said purpose. My first chance at doing so would present itself a little over a month after, through a highly unexpected encounter... The slow rise of the phoenix... One early December evening, I found myself walking home through a life altering amount of snow, following what had just been without a doubt the longest day of my newly found career. It had started off bright and early with my 17 year old department manager ripping my head off for not properly disposing of the cart pushing machine the evening prior. Then as soon as I got out of my dignity squashing party, I got called in for a clean up in the female washroom. The scene I was met with would put my gag reflex to an unprecedented test. Some woman in her attempt to change her child, had found out I would assume much to her surprise, that she wasn't down doing her business after the diaper had been removed. The result was a large amount of infant feces smeared all over the changing table and the wall adjacent to it... Needless to say that at the end of my shift, all I wanted to do was go home and burry my head inside my bong. It had been snowing non-stop for the last four hours which made the twenty minute walk nothing short of a nightmare. And as if mother nature deemed the foot and a half of snow not challenging enough, especially because every inch of my body was frozen and in pain from pushing shopping carts outside for eight hours, she would judge it appropriate to toss some fast winds in the mix in order to blind me. I felt an impulse to start crying, but decided to hold back due to the fear of having frozen tears on my eye balls blinding 233

me even further. The epitome of my misery however, would happen the moment I decided to cross the street in order to use the sidewalk that appeared to be a lot less covered in snow... I threw a quick look left and right for any incoming 60km/h traffic and when I saw none, decided to cross. But as I leaped over a snow bank, I landed on some black ice and immediately slept and fell on my back in the middle of the road. Deathly afraid of traffic which was to surge around the corner at any time now, I tried to quickly get up but an extremely sharp pain shot through my tail bone and I found myself down again. That is when I decided to crawl back towards the sidewalk. As i did so however, a beam of light suddenly peaked around the corner and by the sound of the engine, it was going at a speed fast enough to put me in a wheel chair as a best case scenario. I began crawling faster while screaming at the top of my lungs for the car to stop. At the absolute last second, the driver noticed me and slammed as hard as he could on his breaks. The car would slid to a stop so close to my face that I could smell the burning rubber... The driver of the car got out of the vehicle and began running my way. "Dude are you okay?!?!? Oh my God, are you hurt?!?" he kept repeating those same questions over and over as he lifted me off the pavement and sat me down on the side-walk. Still in shock, I was completely unable to say a word back to him until he asked me the one question that made me snap out of it that same instant. "Do you want me to call an ambulance for you?" That was out of the question for two reasons; aside from the inconvenience of having an extra bill to pay on top of the mountain that was sucking my finances dry, I still didn't know if there was a warrant out there for my arrest and had no intention of finding out tonight. "Nah man it's okay. Just help me up, I'm alright" I replied, putting my hand up in order to grab his... After much effort and a considerable amount of pain on my end, he finally managed to get me up. "Thanks man, I think I'm good now" I said, as I begun dusting the snow off my pants and jacket. He didn't say anything right away and kept staring at me in the process. I couldn't help but feel a little weirded out by such an inquisitive look. And then out of nowhere he is like: "Robert? Robert Mudenge?" Shocked by the sound of my name coming out of this man's mouth, I immediately looked up and said: "Excuse me, do I know you?" with a genuine look of curiosity on my face. It was as if my question had been a direct shot of adrenaline through his neck. He grabbed me by both shoulders and shook me slightly then excitedly said: "Holly shit!! You are Rob Mudenge. Dude it's me, Jack, Jack Creighton. From high school." I threw a couple of genuinely intrigued looks his way until I realized that it really was him then said: "I will be damned, Jack Creighton, as I live and breath. How are you buddy?" He laughed and immediately went in for a strong hug that was instantly met with a few words of complaint on my part as my body was still in pain. He let out a series of apologies then asked: "Dude, how did you end up in the middle of the road? I could have killed you." I gave him a shortened version of my ordeal and at the end of it, he let out a shocked facial expression then said: "Dude, you have to let me buy you a drink. I won't take no for an answer." I debated declining his offer, but following a quick look back at the day I had had, I was indeed in dire need of whiskey. "Sure why not?" I replied, as I ran my hand over my back in order to assess the damage...

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A few minutes later, we were hitting the highway towards downtown Ottawa aboard his 2010 Audi S4. "This is a really nice car man, you must be doing really well for yourself" I said, as I looked around with the envious eyes of a kid in a toy store. He let out a small chuckle then said: "Yea I was actually going to sell it and buy the Q7 SUV but now I really like the breaks on this thing, so I think I might hold off on that." I couldn't help but laugh at his comment and agree with him on top of it. "Oh by the way, speaking of doing well, do you mind if I stop at the office really quick? I just have to grab something then we will be on our way." I shrugged my shoulders in response then said: "Hey man, I'm in no hurry. Do what you gotta do." Five minutes later, I was waiting for him in the car out front of a full glass high rise office building... As I sat there waiting, I began looking around the car. The leather on the stearing wheel was so soft that the way I kept feeling it approached borderline fondling. Once I was done playing around with interior navigation system, I started opening compartments. This had now just went from innocently looking around to full blown snooping; yet I was strangely comfortable with the notion. The moment that would follow, I still consider to this day one of the most life changing of my existence so far. I opened the center counsel for the purpose of seeing how big it was and found myself greeted by hundreds of pay stubs that were stuffed inside of it one on top of the other. I pulled one out and threw a quick look at it. At the top was Jack's name and beside it was the name of the company he worked for: "Kiriopoulos Marketing Corp." underneath the company name was a sum of forty eight hundred dollars. But what knocked my boots off was when I went to look at the pay period and the interval was just a single week... Not able to believe my eyes, I dug back inside the center counsel for more stubs and they were all averaging anywhere between three to ten thousand dollars a week. Shocked, I put them back in, closed the counsel and began wondering what he did for a living. "He is probably like a Lawyer or an accountant or something" I kept telling myself. Suddenly, the regret of not finishing school when I could have came over me.. A few minutes into my inner lamenting fest, the driver door swung open and in came rushing a freezing jack holding a white envelope. Following the exchange of a few pleasantries, he tore the envelope open and pulled out a blue paycheck. Ever so curious, I threw a quick look at it to find it spotting a whooping sixty five hundred dollars. The shocker however wouldn't be the sum, but Jack's reaction. "What the fuck is this? Why can't these assholes ever get my pay right?" Mind blown by his reaction, I couldn't help bust ask what he did for a living at this point. That is when he looked at me and said: "Oh, I sell water heaters door to door bud."

The Rental water heater market in the province of Ontario had for a very long time been a monopoly entrusted solely in the hands of the single Natural gas provider in the region, then known under the name of Consumers Gas. When the latter went bankrupt in early 2000 however, and decided to sell their little over 5 million units portfolio to a series of British companies, the provincial government decided to intervene by deregulating the market in order to open it up to competition. The result was the pop up of hundreds of companies in the rental water heater business that were all trying to get a piece of the action by selling old Consumers Gas clients on a "free upgrade" which consisted of an $800 water heater that they 235

would have to sign a contract agreeing to pay a monthly rental fee on of anywhere between fifteen to twenty five dollars a month depending on the size of the unit for the entirety of its' lifetime; which could range anywhere between fifteen to twenty years. The generated profits were staggering; which meant insane commissions for the sales staff... "What? Do you need a degree to do this shit or something? That money is insane" I asked, just unable to believe that anyone could make this type of money in such small intervals legally. He let out a loud chuckle then said: "Dude, I was teaching English to 6th graders before I started working here. All you need is two working legs and the ability to talk." Regardless of how simple Jack made the whole process sound, I still couldn't wrap my head around it. It just sounded too good to be true. I had to check it out for myself in order to find out. "Do you think you could get me an interview?" I asked, still rather perplexed by the whole idea. "Sure man, why don't I pick you up on my way into the office tomorrow morning. I will introduce you to the boss myself, his name is Dennis..." Welcome to the winners' circle... To describe the KMC office between the hours of 8 and 11 AM as nothing short of a neo-nazi youth rally would be not only appropriate but also distinctly accurate. Eighty five kids all between the ages of 18 and 25 hyped up on red bull and greed screaming positive affirmations along the lines of "Who is the winner? I am a the winner!!" to each other's faces while heavy metal rock blared through a surround sound system at a volume just purely offensive to any functioning eardrums. The entirety of the sales force was dressed in white cotton shirts tucked neatly inside brown kaki pants, and on the shirt pockets were stitched the words "LivClean" in green letters. "How come the company's name is KMC but you all have LivClean on your shirts?" I asked Jack, slightly confused by the discrepancy. "Oh, LivClean is the company we market. They supply the tanks.." We then took a seat in a blue meeting room stuffed with folding chairs and a microphone on a stand at the front. Ten minutes later, a short greek guy with the build of a post-pubescent 15 year old boy, dressed in a three thousand dollar suit, made his entrance to a heated round of applause from every one in the room. He didn't look much older than the majority of the kids present that day. As he walked to the front, he raised his arms in the air to take in the energy from his audience, ran his fingers through an over gelled comb-over, grabbed the mic off the stand then yelled out: "What are we!?!" without skipping a beat, everyone in the room including Jack hollered back: "Lean!! Mean!! Selling machines!!" he then repeated the same questions three more time before wishing everyone a good morning... What followed was an hour and a half of sales training and client objections handling. The motto was that everyone in the room was not only genetically but intellectually superior to the homeowners they spent eight hours a day soliciting, therefor there was no reason as to why they should take no for an answer, just because they knew better. There were nothing that a client could say at the door that we were not provided an answer for. And as far as the delivery of said answer was concerned, everyone in the room was a trained neuro-linguistic programmer; meaning that they were well equipped to talk anyone into anything; even if it involved side stepping the line between fact and embellishment. At the end of that meeting, I 236

felt right at home. This was exactly what I needed; to be surrounded by driven, hungry and ambitious young people willing to do whatever it took to get to the top... Once everyone got up to go to work, following a series of screaming high fives and chest bumps as if they were headed to the final game of the rose bowl, Jack pulled me to the side and said: "Come with me, I am going to introduce you to Dennis." We then walked into a corner office with an entire view of downtown Ottawa. It was your classic, overly remunerated sales executive's office. Fully equipped with on-suite bathroom, all ebony desks, shelves and cupboards, plus a massive executive all leather seat that looked more like a throne than an office chair. The entire place reeked of excess and entitlement and I was loving every single inch of it. Jack and I took a seat on a leather couch that sat in a corner of the room across from a glass coffee table. A few seconds later, Dennis emerged from the washroom in the middle of a conversation on his blue-tooth device. Upon noticing our presence, he excused himself from the call and began walking our way with an energetic step. "Ahh, you must be Robert. I'm Dennis Kiriopoulos, pleasure meeting you..." "Mr. Kiriopoulos, the pleasure is all mine" I replied, as we exchanged firm enthusiastic hand shakes. "Please call me Dennis; Mr. Kiriopoulos makes me sound old." we traded a few pleasantries on the matter as he indicated for us to take a seat and asked if we wanted a cup of coffee or a Red Bull. Following my polite decline, he decided to get right to business. "So I hear you and Jack have been friends since high school." I debated telling him that friend was a tad bit of an over-statement, and that the correct term he was looking for was pawn; useful in such matters as scoring the hottest girls at school or procuring drugs later on planted in an enemy's locker to see him suspended days before graduation, but decided to keep said facts to myself instead. "Yes, we played on the basketball team together." He cracked open what was his fourth Red bull that morning judging by the contents of his recycling bin then said: "So, why should I hire you brother?" I was about to give him a classic interview answer about how hard working and motivated I was when I decided to go against the grain at the last second. "Because I am the guy you can trust in the future to look after your shop while you sail in Monaco, that's why." The sip of his Red Bull he had just taken almost came out flying out of his mouth. He then gave me a thorough up and down scan and and said: "Is that right? And what makes you think that?" I sat up closer to the edge of the couch and gave a detailed look around the room. "Simply put, I want it all Dennis. The fifty thousand dollar Audemar on your wrist, the Rolls Roys keys on your desk, the prime real-estate downtown and your ability to summon enough charisma to raise an army of dedicated soldiers at your service. I want you to one day find me worthy enough to take under your wing and teach me your ways, Oh Jedi master." The latter drew an enthusiastic laugh out of him and he said: "I like you kid; a lot. I think you will do really well here." He then got up from his seat, walked towards me to shake my hand and said: "Welcome to the winner's circle." That same day, I walked into the NoFrills three hours after my shift was due to start and announced my resignation to my 17 year old manager. Livid at the prospect of my quitting mid shift, she began a series of insulting rhetorics concluded by threats of a horrible reference if I didn't provide her with an adequate two weeks notice. Amused by her benign menace, I would 237

grab my last cheque out of her hands then look her in the eye and say: "In two weeks, you will notice that I stopped coming to work you miserable bitch." then stormed out feeling more alive than I had been in months. This was a new beginning for me and I had every intention to run with it until the wheels fell off. On my way to the bank that day to go cash a measly $750 cheque for two weeks of back breaking work in the freezing Canadian cold, I was skipping down the street in the snow like a mad man at the thought of this being the last mediocre cheque I was to ever cash. I now had a chance to put my skills to use without having to constantly look over my shoulder for red and blue lights... Take care of the grind and the grind shall take care of you... It took me approximately two and a half months to make a name for myself in the office. The beginning of my journey towards the top of the sales charts however, revealed itself to be paved with obstacles that on some days felt unsurmountable. Regardless of how well remunerating the job was, it was anything but glamorous. Six days a week, eight hours a day in minus thirty degree weather on some February days, with one week in town and three weeks on the road working small towns all around the province. It was a complete rock star schedule. But I didn't care; I had a set list of goals that I was willing to die to see accomplished. And in order to do so, I had created a single driving motive for myself; completely and utterly outwork my competition. I went out and bought every single sales training or self-help book I could get my hands on. While my co-workers were out partying after an exhausting day of knocking on doors and getting rejected hundreds of times before closing a single deal, I stayed in my hotel room, reading books and tweaking my approach to the process. And before I knew it, my sacrifices began paying off substantially... One glorious Monday morning, following my fourth week in a row as the top salesman, I walked into the office for the morning meeting and was pulled aside by Dennis wanting to have a word. I entered his office and closed the door behind me. "I'm I fired?" I joked, thinking to myself how ironic the latter would be if it was indeed a fact. He let out a chuckle then said: "Quite the opposite actually. You have been toping the charts for months now; at a rate I haven't seen anyone not even myself rise when I was still in your shoes. What are you doing differently?" I debated telling him that I was winning because I knocked 500 more doors everyday than anyone in that training room, but Law number 30 of my code would have me lean more towards making my accomplishments come off as effortless. "I don't know Boss, I guess I'm just lucky." That's when he reached inside his desk, pulled out a set of keys to a Dodge Grand Caravan and tossed them my way. I grabbed them and stared at them for a second then said: "What's this?" seeming utterly clueless as to what was going on. He cracked a smile and said: "Congratulations Kid, you just got promoted to crew-coordinator..." And just like that, my weekly cheques would soar from $2000 to $5000 overnight because on top of my own generated production, I was now responsible for a crew of guys that I made what's referred to in the industry as overrides off of. Meaning that on each and every deal that they wrote, I got a substantial piece of the pie coming my way. Within the span of a month and a half, I had the largest and highest production grossing crew in the office. Other coordinators begun approaching me to find out what was the secret to my mind boggling success. But I 238

knew better than revealing the contents in my little bag of tricks; I considered this a heartless competition and I knew that sooner or later, if given the opportunity, they could turn around and use those same secrets against me... But truth be told, the only secret was the fact that I adopted a systematic approach to my craft. The first element that any member of my crew had to learn was discipline. I considered what we did a sport; and required the commitment of a professional athlete from anyone under my command. Meaning that such things as hard work, dedication and sacrifice were not optional. Secondly, I led by example. While other crew bosses were content dropping their guys off on turf and sleeping in their vans all day long until pick up time because they knew that they were making a cheque regardless, I took it upon myself to always outproduce my guys. It was the only way I could solidify my authority and avoid potential mutinies. And last but not least, I had a winning edge as far as client psychology was concerned. My guys and I understood that people were far more motivated by the fear of loss than the joy of gain. So instead of using the standard pitch that consisted of listing the benefits of switching their water heater provider to our company, we made clients lose sleep at the thought of contracting Legionnaire disease, or their current heater flooding their basement and their home owner's insurance refusing to cover the damages due to their negligence in owning an outdated machine... Life had now gotten back to grandiose status. I was riding high again; on some days, I found myself so happy and fulfilled that I thought my heart was going to explode. I had not only found the job of my dreams but I was really good at what I did; and everyone took notice. At that year's award ceremony gala, which was held in Los Cabos Mexico, I took salesman of the year award which came with a cool glass tomb stone with my name on it and a sweet twenty thousand dollar cheque. That night, I tried to have a drink for the first time in what was now 10 months, but I could barely swallow half of the shot of whiskey in my glass. I had went so long without drinking due to the focus I had dedicated to my craft that I no longer had a tolerance for alcohol. My single drug of choice was now money. And I was about to find out that the company had made new changes that were going to see my fix quadruple in size... One early April morning on my way to the office, I received a text message from Dennis informing me that I had to report to the main boardroom upon my arrival. He had decided to call an impromptu crew bosses meeting during which a major announcement was to be made. After parking my van, I did as instructed to find the other three coordinators seating thete waiting. "So superstar, you seem to be in the bosses good graces, what do you think this special announcement might be?" asked Larry Jordan, a middle aged crew coordinator that had been working for the company for a little over five years now. "Bust out the popcorn and let's find out" I replied, while taking a seat near the head of the table. Ten minutes later, Dennis came bursting through the door with his usual high intensity, followed by a man who looked as though he had been engineered based on a Ken doll blue print... "Good morning Gentlemen, and welcome, to the first day of the rest of your life. Because today is a glorious day indeed. You are all about to be handed the opportunity of making a Million dollars within your next three years of employment at this firm." Dennis's words would instantly provoke a laws of physics defying erection for everyone at that table, as we all sat on 239

the edge of our seats hanging onto every syllable out of his mouth, as if he was in the midst of announcing the second coming of the Christ. "Starting tomorrow, KMC in partnership with the Ontario Energy Group, will now be able to offer our clients the opportunity of upgrading their home heating and cooling systems on top of our usually offered water heaters. The gentleman standing next to me is the founder and C.E.O of our newest partner company." That man's name was Alex Farber. A 35 year old Russian financier tycoon who had made millions of dollars by setting up companies that offered financing opportunities on anything from mortgages all the way to personal computers. The word on the street however, was that him and another one of his Russian buddies with close ties to the Kremlin, had a little over three years ago, set up a heating and cooling equipment company known as "Mr.Tankless." The latter was known to everyone in the industry as the potato that doomed the sack by singlehandedly annihilating customer confidence in companies that dabbled in our business. Which often resulted in having to spend hours distancing ourselves from the likes of them in order to talk clients out of the fear of getting scammed... Legend has it that the company would make their clients fill up financing applications in order to acquire equipment, then turn around, gather the information off those applications, and use it to apply for loans with other financial institutions without prior consent from the client. The rest would now be just a question of making the small monthly payments on the loans, while investing the hundreds of thousands of dollars they earned everyday from forged financing applications in such ventures as real-estate and night clubs all over the Toronto area. The fat lady would come singing once some of their clients started noticing major discrepancies on their credit reports, this would give birth to a government investigation. Upon realizing the imminent curtain fall, Alex and his partner would dissolve the corporation which was technically under the partner's name, and the latter would take off and move back to Russia to live a life of luxury for the remainder of his days. Alex who was nowhere on paper, would remain in Canada, reincorporate under the Ontario Energy Group and continue business as usual... Everyone sitting in that boardroom that day, knew exactly who we were getting in bed with, but truth be told, none of us cared the least bit. We were all about to get ridiculously filthy rich. The amounts paid in commissions on furnaces and air conditioners were borderline absurd. Out of nowhere, we went from clearing $250 in a single household that we made following the installation of a water heater, to $3000 if we managed to sell the client on upgrading their heating and cooling equipment as well in the process. On a slow month, with a crew of twenty guys working around the clock, I was clearing a hundred thousand dollars minimum after taxes. I was literally, a bonafide Rock star... One weekend, out of boredom, I put a down payment on a two and a half million dollar penthouse overlooking the Ottawa river, then went out and bought an Eighty thousand dollar BMW 750I Alpina Limited edition. On my way home from the dealership, I happened to drive by the marina and without even giving it a second thought, pulled out my phone, googled a Sea Doo dealership in town, and three hours later, I was the proud owner of a Sea Doo speedster 200; all under the pretense that bitches liked boats therefor I had to have one. In the matter of a year and a half, I had went from having nothing but the shirt on my back and pushing 240

shopping carts in a grocery store parking lot for minimum wage, all the way to making more money than I could have ever dreamed of selling drugs. But just like any other time in my life, my climb to the top had been long overdue for an avalanche...

The wrath of the stricken Sheppard... No matter how much money I made, I always wanted more.. I couldn't stop myself from working if I tried. But at this point, almost two years in, the job had gotten to be more than just the money. It was a chess game; between myself and the person on the other side of the door. I was intoxicated by the art of the deal; the knowing that whenever two people came in contact, a sale was always made; it was either I sold the client on my product, or they sold me on walking away. And I hated being sold. The next goal on my list was expansion, I had witnessed the possibilities. Guys who were making 3 million dollars a year off of running two or three offices the size of KMC, and I wanted that. At this point, I had a team of 28 guys who I had put my blood, sweat and tears into training and they were performing well above standard. I felt ready for the big league, my own shop. My shot at making this dream a reality would one day reveal itself in the form of a fierce, girl next door gorgeous little brunette by the name of Kayla... On a cold January afternoon, a few days following my 23rd birthday, I found myself working a small middle-class neighborhood in a suburb of Ottawa called Kanata. I walked up a partially shoveled driveway towards a two story bungalow and rang the door bell. While waiting for an answer, I did my usual fast scan of the property hoping that it would give me an idea of what the person on the other side of the door was like. Two minutes later, the front door swung open to reveal a middle aged woman with blonde hair. "Hi, how can I help you?" She asked, in a friendly tone. That was my queue to go in; I instantly began my pitch to find myself quickly interrupted by the homeowner. "Oh you are here for the heating and cooling equipment right? Your colleague is already here for the assessment.." Her statement found me slightly baffled. If there was one part of my craft I was extremely meticulous about, it was area distribution for my guys. They were each handed maps at the beginning of each day with their assigned area of work and each and everyone of them was well aware of the consequence of adventuring outside their assigned action zone. "I'm sorry, my colleague? What's his name?" I asked, intending to match crime to punishment once the offender had been outed. "Oh, no, it's a she" she replied, while taking a good look at my badge. The latter boggled my mind even more; not only I had no girls on my team, but there were not a single female on the entire KMC sales force. A few seconds into my fiery internal investigation, an exact copy of Selena Gomez in dark jeans and a blue long sleeve shirt that red National Home Services rose from behind the homeowner and said: "It's alright, I think you are better off going next door, I got this one.." 241

It all suddenly became very clear; she was no colleague, she was a competitor. NHS was the biggest player in the market at that time. They were owned by a corporation by the name of Just Energy which made billions of dollars a year selling fixed price commodities such as Gas and Hydro. As a result, they had all the money in the world to invest into a sales program that made the rest of us look like amateurs. Just to get an interview there, you had to at least have had three years of prior experience. The whole place was ran like a Navy Seal camp. But the system worked, their guys generally outproduced us on a scale of three to one, making double the amounts on our cheques at a fraction of our commission rates. The company had no need for an elevated payout schedule because the system they had in place allowed their guys to make more money than anyone else in the industry through virtue of volume... "Alright then, if you will forgive my intrusion, I will be on my way." I would bid both ladies farewell and start walking towards my car. It was late in the afternoon now and I was due for my only break of the day; a fifteen minute lunch recess during which I devoured a quick sandwich while listening to a taped Tony Robbins seminar, then rushed back to work. As I was about to take a bite of my sandwich however, I heard two aggressively loud knocks on my driver's side window. A bit startled, I began to lower it down. It was the NHS girl from the house down the street. "Do you know you could have cost me that deal?" she asked, clearly refusing to acknowledge how unorthodox I happened to find this entire interaction. "Oh no, you couldn't close it?" I replied, attempting to sound remotely compassionate. That is when she snapped. "What? What do you mean I couldn't close it? Of course I closed the deal; I can close an already closed door, that's not the point. The point is, I have been working this neighborhood since 9A.M, and you being here now is going to fuck with my mojo. So why don't you move a few streets over?" She then began walking away from my car... As she begun her dramatic exit, my mind was still caught up on trying to figure out how one closed an already closed door. "Who says shit like that?" I asked myself, as I watched her walk away with her sales binder clutched in both arms against what I assumed was a confident bosom. She had a fiery attitude and the hips of an angel; I couldn't let her get away from me. I immediately sprung out of the car and hollered: "Hey, wait up!!" and began mildly jogging her way. "Alright, I will make you a deal" I said, as I started slowing down. "You want the area all to yourself, I will play you for it. Rock, paper, scissors. If you win, I will get out of this side of town. If I win, you still get to keep the turf, but have dinner with me instead. Tonight." I received an instant outraged expression and she said: "Rock, paper, scissors? Seriously? What are we 8 years old?" Her response drew a laugh out of me. "Look, I think it's a fair deal. I have been working the area for a fair amount of time as well and I'm quite emotionally attached to it." Exasperated by my endless flow of arguments she finally ceded... "Fine, one round. Winner takes all" she said, as she took off her right winter glove, assumed position and got ready to rumble. I did the same and she begun the count. As soon as she said scissors, she drew rock. But myself instead of drawing one of three, I used my thumb, index and middle fingers to form a claw, and immediately grabbed on to her little soft fist. Confused by this never before seen act in the very well known game, she gave me a bewildered look and said: "What the hell is this?" That's when I adopted the most casual look and said: "Oh, that's snake; snake bites rock." She exploded into a riotous laugh on the spot and tapped my 242

shoulder. "You cheated, I have never heard of such a thing." She was hooked, the tap on my shoulder was an indicator of interest. I adopted a puzzled air and replied: "Really? You have never heard of rock, paper, scissors, snake? Did you not get the email? I think there was a bulletin too.." She couldn't stop laughing; she went on a euphoric franzy for the better part of half a minute then finally managed to stop and grasp a few breaths. "Why do you want to have dinner with me?" she asked, still not completely done laughing.. I made sure to cease her eyes in mine then grabbed on to her hand and pulled her closer to me. "Well, I could lie and say that I don't find your laugh absolutely hypnotizing, but truth be told I am mainly fascinated by the idea of sharing a meal with a woman who does what we do. I have never met one before.." We would stare into each other's eyes for a few more seconds until she reached in her binder, tore a piece of paper, scribbled an address, handed it to me and said: "Pick me up at Eight." She then began walking away again. I inspected the little piece of paper for all the information I needed until I realized that I was still missing a crucial piece. "Hey wait, you never told me your name." She turned around with a smile on her face while continuing to walk backwards and said: "I am Kayla..." Kayla Marie Tournier is to this day still considered a legend in the business. She was not only the youngest, but arguably one of the most successful crew-coordinators in the industry at the tender age of twenty four. She had started working for NHS when she was sixteen, after her and her brother who was an employee of the company at the time, decided to concoct a scheme that would see her lie about her age on her application as well as her level of previous experience in order to secure the post. Legend has it that she caught the eye of upper management the day her then crew boss was in the middle of doing drop offs of all the agents in their assigned canvassing areas, when Kayla complained of having to cater to some basic bodily functions. Being new on the job, not to say very easy on the eye, the crew boss felt a soft spot and offered to drive her to a near-by gas station so she could use the washroom. What followed is a tale used by training managers all across the country when they speak about total, unaltered dedication to one's craft... She asked him to pull over the van right in the middle of a suburban neighborhood, hopped out, sat her sales binder on the hood and said: "I will be right back." Then to the complete astonishment of everyone in the van whose majority were all males, she ran towards a near by fence bush and crawled in as if she was some sort of raccoon. Two minutes later, she emerged back out in the same fashion she had immersed herself, did up the belt on her jeans, grabbed her binder off the hood of the car and said: "Time to go to work. Good luck guys," then walked off in the horizon. Fast forward 6 years down the road and you found her at the helm of one of the fastest growing crews in her office, with 19 dedicated agents whose half were all females. It was the perfect scenario, the guys felt compelled to do well to impress the girls, and all the girls wanted was to be Kayla. One hand washed the other in perfect financial harmony...

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That night after dinner, I drove her home. Fifteen minutes after leaving the restaurant, I pulled up to the driveway of a half a million dollar house in a forested suburb. "Wow, is this yours?" I asked, as I had had to pick her up from a girlfriend's place earlier. She smiled then said: "Yes indeed, bought it last year. For me and my mother." I began drilling my head hoping to find a good excuse to get her to invite me inside; but turns out she already had her mind set on how the remainder of the evening was going to unfold. "Alright Rob, look" she said, as she undid her seat-belt and turned towards me. "I had a great time tonight; and I think you are a really sweet guy; but I am not going to invite you inside my house tonight. I just got out of a thing with a salesman and I am really not looking to hop into another right away." I instantly felt the little boy inside of me die. Following a brief moment of silence, she began again. "I am however, going to fuck you. On one condition; that after tonight, you don't even think of calling me again..." Lost for words and still unable to process what exactly had just happened in that moment, I witnessed Kayla reaching over my legs for the other side of my driver's seat and pressing the automatic button that rolled the seat backwards. Once it was as far back and as far down as it could go, she leaned in for what would go down in history as the hottest car make-out session of my entire existence bar none. She was wearing a form fitting little red dress and I was dying to slide it up her well squatted thighs. She reached for my zipper and after undoing it, was met by my well beyond eager manhood at the prospect of penetrating her. Following a few motivated strokes, she raised her little dress to reveal a lace thong of the same red. But after pushing her little panties to the side, instead of getting on top facing me, she turned around to face the windshield and began to ride me reverse cow girl style... Once my tip came in contact with her soft little wet mound, it became quickly evident that she might have beaten off a little more than she could chew. I was too big and she was still too tight to start things off in such a position. That's when she arched her back, grabbed onto my steering wheel, turned towards me and said: "Fuck me like you mean it." To me that was a clear challenge. I grabbed her by the back of the neck and forced her down my massively erect cock as she held on to the steering wheel ever so tightly while gasping for air. Once I was all the way inside of her, with one hand on the back of her neck and the other on her perfect little waist, I began moving her in a circular motion while stuffing every inch I gained up her insides. This nearly drove her to explosion; she was now holding onto the steering wheel with one hand while the other tightly held the silk neck tie I had on that night. We would continue like so until we both exploded simultaneously and sat there, still inside each other, quivering and attempting to catch our breath... The next morning, I felt so energized from the night before that I got to work half an hour before my usual arrival time.. I hopped on the elevator from the building's underground parking lot and pressed the 19th floor, which was where the office was situated. Once the elevator got to the ground level, the doors slid open and in came Dennis; dressed in a tailored navy blue suit with white stripes and a pair of shoes that looked like they had definitely claimed the life of an alligator or two to make. As soon as he saw me, he began his usual used car salesman enthusiasm show. "Ahhh, there he is!! My pride and joy, my superstar. How are you this morning?" I couldn't help but crack a big smile and replied: "I'm feeling great bossman.. If

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I felt any better it would be illegal." He gave me an up and down scan followed by a smirk. "Woah, sounds like someone got laid last night..." The smile on my face got even wider; "Yea man, I met a girl. And so far the consensus is that she is pretty awesome." He immediately cracked up laughing and said: "Slow your roll player. Don't make the mistake most newly rich guys make. You make a little money, next thing you know, you fuck around and get married to a bitch that will take half of it in exchange for three years of denying you blow jobs." I laughed and began wondering if his bitterness towards the institution of marriage was due to prior experience then said: "Nah, I don't think there is any chance of that. She is a salesman, it would feel like holding a loaded gun to my dick.." An air of curiosity suddenly invaded his face out of nowhere. "Oh yeah? What does she sell insurance?" he asked, taking half a step closer. "Nah, she works in the industry actually" I replied. "Is that right? What's her name?" I felt a bit put off but his curiosity but didn't think much of it. "Her name is Kayla..." His air of curiosity suddenly increased a thousand fold and he stepped right up to my face. "Tournier? Kayla Tournier? You had sex with Kayla Tournier last night?" His question took me completely offguard as probably illustrated by the look on my face at that moment. "Yes, yes I did. Do you know her?" The elevator stopped before he had a chance to answer and as soon as the doors slid open, He zapped through them at his usual maniacal speed and said: "Come in my office; we need to talk." As I speed walked behind him attempting to catch up, I began wondering what he wanted to talk to me about. That's when it hit me; she had mentioned the night prior that she had just gotten out of a thing with a salesman and she didn't want to get into another this quickly. That's when I felt a drop of sweat run down my spinal cord. I walked into his office behind him and closed the door... "Sit down Rob" he said, as he took off his jacket and set it on a coat hanger that was sitting in the corner. I wondered if I should do the same with mine just in case he was losing layers in anticipation of a fisticuff . I took a seat on the couch and watched him crack his first morning Red Bull and that's when he began: "I have been trying to get that girl to come work for us for the last three years. I've put everything on the table, signing bonuses, trips, outrageous commission schedules, you name it, I have done it. But she still won't budge. I want you to step in and finish the job." Although slightly relieved, a side of me couldn't help but feel a bit disappointed. I was looking forward to comparing notes on Kayla's cowgirliness with Dennis... "Dennis look; I appreciate your vote of confidence in the fact that my cock can inspire career changes, but as you know this girl is not just anybody. She is a major player over there and happens to be very well established, she is just not going to up and change companies just because I'm fucking her.." He took a large gulp of his Red Bull, sat it down vigorously, wiped his mouth with his hand, then said: "Alright tell you what, I will make you a deal. You figure out some way of getting her here, I don't care how you do it. And I will give you your own office.." My heart would skip the next five beats at the sound of his offer; but then I began wondering. What could possibly be motivating this man to the point where he found himself putting down his most valuable bargaining chip so early in 245

the negotiations? And that's when it dawned on me. There was only one thing on God's green earth that could make a man lose all common sense to this extent; pussy... Dennis wasn't solely interested in Kayla's leadership abilities. What he qualified as attempts at head hunting her, was shameless courting instead. And judging by his seemingly frustrated zeal, he had failed miserably. Now, he expected me to deliver her on a silver platter and once she was locked into an employment contract, use his leverage as boss to get inside her tasty little panties. The plan was genius, and I found the trade more than fair on my end. The only issue however, was the fact that I really had no idea how I was possibly going to pull this off. But that was no real concern of mine; I had been in cases like these hundreds of times throughout my life and each of those times, if I looked long and hard enough, solutions always appeared. I didn't expect this one to be any different. I sat there in silence for a few more seconds before giving Dennis an answer to his request, then got up from the couch, walked towards his desk and reached over it to shake his hand. Once he held on to mine, I looked him in the eye and said: "You got yourself a deal." Then walked out of his office searching my call log for Kayla's number... Once her name appeared onto my screen, i clicked call and waited for an answer. Following three rings, her voice finally came though on the other end. "I thought I told you that you could never call me again?" I laughed at her sarcastically unfriendly greeting and said: "Well, I just wanted to let you know that I just officially quit my job, and was wondering if you wanted to move to Mexico with me and go half and half on an Alpaca farm.." She burst out in a laugh and said: "Awww, you want to live off love and fresh water with me? I'm flattered." The latter gave way to ten minutes of small talk that culminated to me asking her if she would like to come by my condo that evening so I can make her dinner. She initially objected to my offer under the pretense that she didn't trust my culinary abilities, but later on gave in once I told her that my "chicken a la Jean-Robert" had been critically acclaimed by multiple tribe elders who believed it to have soul healing properties... That night after dinner, we made love on nearly every single square inch of my apartment. Following an explosive grand finale in my body jet shower, we decided to dry off in the sheets and watch some television. She then begun making fun of me, stating that the 62" flat screen TV that hung on my bedroom wall was a clear indicative of the fact that I was compensating for something. The latter would ensue into a vicious tickle fight that left us both giggly and breathless. Once we came back down to our senses, I decided to begin probing. "Babe, can I ask you something?" I said, while running my fingers through her still moist hair. "Sure, go ahead" she nonchalantly replied, still caught up in the inner workings of my Tv's touch screen remote. "Have you never thought about coming to work for KMC? I mean they pay so much better and with your level of talent you could be making three times more than what you are clearing right now at NHS.." She put down the remote on the bed, began laughing in a slightly mocking fashion then said: "Well, aside from the fact that your boss is a creep and has been trying to fuck me since the day he laid eyes on me, the higher payouts at your company don't really motivate me. Sure NHS are a bunch of obsessive Nazis who go as far as checking my work 246

van twice a week to make sure it's spotless, but they know what they are doing. On top of that, I have put eight years of my life in that place and if I manage to tuck an extra five on top of it, I will surely be running it. So thanks but no thanks." As I watched her fall asleep on my chest to the sound of Jon Stewart's daily show, it became evident that there were no way in hell I was going to convince this girl to come work for us. I lied there thinking about my office; it was within grasping distance and yet I just couldn't get my hands on it. It usually took the most dedicated performer a minimum of five years before being even considered as a potential regional manager. But there I was, with just under two years to my name and the opportunity to jump to the next level. I couldn't let this get away from me, this was my shot at total financial freedom... I fell asleep that night wishing I was a better praying man; maybe if I got on my knees and asked God, he would provide me with an answer. Two hours later, I woke up in a franzy gasping for air. I had found the solution; She was human; if greed was no motivator, loss was going to be. Law number 31 of my code dictated that I had to control the options; by getting others to play with the cards I dealt. If she was not willing to crossover on her own intent, then I was going to have to put her in a position that gave her no choice but crossover; while still making it look like it was her decision of course. I lifted my head to check on her and found her deep asleep. I then moved her to the side and put on a pair of pajama pants. I walked into my dimly lit living room, and begun to rummage through my sales binder looking for one of our company product pamphlets... Once I had located a couple, I grabbed a few of our financing agreements which had our logo imprinted on it in a big shiny font, folded them neatly and placed them inside each of the brochures. I then walked towards the large marble island that sat in the middle of my kitchen and started going through Kayla's Manolo handbag which had been sitting there all evening. I would snatch her car keys and her cell phone, then get out of the apartment as stealthily as one possibly could, hoping that she wouldn't wake up. A few seconds later, the elevator doors would slide open onto the underground parking of my condo building. I walked towards the visitor area and pressed the alarm button on her key fob. A loud ringing came blaring from a brand new Nissan van with the NHS logo plastered on the driver side door. I unlocked the car then proceeded to stash the brochures containing the contracts all through out the car; mainly underneath the seats. Once that was done, I grabbed her cell phone, looked through her call log for her boss's number, and once I had found it, blocked the caller ID and made the call... As expected the call would go straight to voicemail, due to the fact that it was nearly three O'clock in the morning. I waited for the beep and decided to leave a message: "You don't know who I am; however, I want you to know that Kayla Tournier and her team are writing business for a higher paying competitor." I then hung up the phone and made my way back upstairs. Following a thorough effort in making sure that I put everything back in place due to the fact that there were absolutely no margin for error on this one, I climbed back in bed to find her still sound asleep. Now all I had to do was wait and hope that my plan would unfold the way I expected it to. If everything went smoothly, I would undoubtedly be on the fast track at making my first million by the tender age of 25. But I

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was soon about to learn that expecting things to unfold as planned in my life, was an unreasonable luxury I had chased for years to no avail... The next morning, I was woken up by some rather suggestive fondling from Kayla that shortly after morphed into some excellent mouth work. Following a quick breakfast that mainly consisted of Orange juice and some Pop tarts, we kissed each other goodbye and headed to our respective offices. I carried on with my usual morning agenda as I did everyday; a one hour crew boss meeting followed by my daily training pump up for my crew. Half an hour into stressing the importance of a question based selling method however, I felt my phone vibrating. It was Kayla; I declined the call in an effort to gauge the amplitude behind the reason why she was calling. But before I had even had a chance to put my phone back in its holster, it rang again. This time, I excused myself and stepped in the hallway; then took a deep breath and casually answered: "Hey babe, watsup?" She couldn't answer right away; she was crying. "Babe are you alright? What's wrong?" She would finally manage to gather enough strength to formulate a sentence in between sobs then say: "Can you meet me for lunch please? We need to talk." Usually, when women said those words to me, nothing good ever came out of it; the last one to do that had informed me that she was expecting my child. But somehow, as far as this case in particular was concerned, I had a good feeling about how the conversation was going to unfold. She asked me to meet her at a small Italian restaurant downtown and twenty minutes later, I walked in to find her sitting in a corner, staring outside a window in the emptiness. I could see that the crying had went on for a while as only half her face still had make-up on. I pulled a seat next to her at the table, kissed her forehead and asked her what was wrong. That's when the tears began again and she said: "I just got fired..." The deed was done; my plan had worked to a stupendous extent. Her boss after checking his voicemail that morning had waited for her to arrive to the office, before deciding to stage a surprise auto-sweep. All the crew bosses including Kayla had handed their keys over for the purpose of this practice that they were now very used to. Half an hour later, the word came back concerning some troublesome findings in Kayla's van.What ensued was her boss not even giving her the courtesy of firing her himself due to the fact that he was a firm believer that traitors were not deserving of any explanations. Instead, he would send his assistant to do the dirty work on his behalf. "They won't even tell me why. All they said was that I was a traitor and had no place there anymore" she sobbed, while reaching for the table napkin to wipe the tears off her face... I slowly got up from my chair and stood behind hers. I then moved her hair to one side of her neck and began massaging her shoulders. The effects were instantaneous; she started taking deep breathes which were sending a series of shivers up and down her body. "You know what? Fuck them" I said, while running my fingers on her upper neck. "If they can't see how lucky they are to not only have a crew boss but a leader as amazing and talented as you are, then it's their loss." She raised her arm and slowly reached behind her neck to pat my hand in gratitude then said: "You are sweet baby; thank you for being by my side." She then took a deep breath as she relaxed even further, took a sip of the water

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that was sitting on the table, then said: "You are right, fuck those motherfuckers. Do you think Dennis's offer might still be on the table?" Three hour later, we were in Dennis's office walking her through the doted lines on where to sign and initial in order to validate her new employment contract. There was now nothing standing between me and my new shop. In a matter of a what I figured would be a few weeks, I was going to go shopping all through out the city's primmest corporate real-estate for my new digs. Once that was done, the sky would be the limit from there. I had every intention of modeling my shop based on the NHS prototype; the creation of a cult-like culture grounded in such values as discipline, dedication, hard-work and sacrifice. I could do whatever I wanted, I was going to be the head-honcho now. Then, I began dreaming about all the things I was going to do with the piles of money I was about to make, which took me on a journey down memory lane... One September afternoon shortly after our arrival in the U.S, My dad decided that he wanted to take us out for a Sunday drive. So all five of us got inside his light blue Barwood Taxi cab and crossed over the belt-way into Potomac Maryland. To call this neighborhood affluent would have been nothing short of slandering its' good name. This was the Hamptons of the Washington D.C area; Forbes magazine had once deemed it amongst the top-five richest Zip codes in America. While driving down the street to the sound of our amazed expressions at the turn of every corner, my father would see an open house sign and decide to pull over so we can take a look inside one of these behemoths. Upon laying eyes on the five of us and the taxi cab we had just hoped out of, the Realtor on site immediately figured out that we were just tire kickers. We didn't fit the demographic of his usual clientele of Lawyers, judges, doctors and K Street lobbyists. He would just dismissively point us upstairs, hand us a flyer and inform us that he would be downstairs if we had any question at the end of our self-given tour... That night, on the way back to my father's 1 bedroom apartment, the only thing I felt in my heart was rage. Not even a few months prior, I was the kid whose friends' felt feelings of wonder and envy by walking inside our home. What had happened between then and us browsing inside a place we were neither wanted nor could afford? I subconsciously carried that pain with me all the way to that fateful day I sat in that office and watched Kayla sign her life away on that contract. In that exact moment, I made a firm decision. That upon making my first million, half of it would go towards a down payment on that house or a house similar to it in that Potomac neighborhood for my parents. That was going to be my sole driving ambition until that goal manifested into reality. No matter how noble my quest however, I was very soon about to learn that dreams have a funny way of burning to the ground when carelessly mixed with attenuating circumstances... The following morning, I woke up and did something I hadn't done since my days as a high school athlete; I got up and went for a jog. A huge corporate rise as the one I was about to soar onto meant a new life, and a new life meant new habits. If I was going to become a millionaire, I had to start acting like one. Two hours later, I walked into the office with a very noticeable change in my walk and headed directly to Dennis's office. He 249

was sitting at his desk, Red bull in hand going through some paperwork. "Top of the morning my Lord" I said, as I walked in without knocking and closed the door behind me. He lifted his head upon my entrance then said: "Ah, Robert, just the man I wanted to see. Sit down, we need to talk." I couldn't help but cringe upon hearing that last part, but decided to dismiss the gut feeling as mindless superstition view the fact that we indeed had some talking to do... I took a seat across the desk from him then said: "Well, If I am correct, I believe that I have splendidly lived up to my end of the bargain. Which leaves one element to fully seal the deal." He let out a faint smirk, took a sip of his Red bull, leaned back in his chair then said: "Yes, about that; there has been some changes that I am hoping you will come to peace with for the sake of the continuation of our partnership." My heart immediately sunk in my stomach. "What do you mean? Changes, Dennis we had a deal. I deliver Kayla, I get my own shop. We shook hands on this; you gave me your word." He took a quick look at his watch as a way of politely indicating to me that he did not have much time to dedicate to this conversation then said: "I have decided after much thought to open my own Heating and Cooling company, which can mean even greater opportunities in the future for all of us. I urge you to see the positives behind this.." That is when the truth came to light. I had been played, like notes on a music sheet; used as a puppet in this man's grand scheme. Dennis had never had any intentions of giving me my own shop. His plan all along was to cut out Alex as the middle man. He had now made so much money through his partnership with OEG that he no longer needed them to be the liaison between him and the equipment suppliers; he now had enough capital to be able to walk up to the big boy's table and buy into the game. And if he was going to do that, he would need his entire sales force consolidated under one roof at first, in order to avoid outrageous overhead on his young business's books. Which meant absolutely no expansion in the cards for a while... "So what now?" I asked, on the verge of leaping from my seat and biting his nose off. He once again switched into used car salesman mode and said: "Robert look, I know I made you a promise. But unfortunately new circumstances arose. I say stick around and work with me on this new project and in five years or so we'll bring this conversation back onto the table." I was livid; to the point where I thought I was going to throw up from rage. I debated going into a franzy and calling him every name in the book for playing me the way he had just done, but Law number 9 of my code had thought me that no winning was ever done through argument; I had to act instead. After a few seconds of tense silence, I let out a sarcastic snicker then said: "Well you see Dennis, the way I was raised, I was thought growing up that the fascinating thing about the nature of promises, was their immunity to newly arising circumstances. But then again what do I know?" I then immediately got up and walked out of his office slamming the door behind me... Thirty seconds later, I forcefully pushed open the men's washroom, and in an act of sulfuring anger, booted the door to the first stall i saw with such strength that the it flew off the hinges and landed on top of the toilet. If I had had a gun in my car that day, I would most definitely be writing this story from prison at this precise moment. I walked up to the 250

sink and began running the water. After dabbing my face wet a few times to see if that would ease my white rage, I lifted my head and looked at myself in the mirror. My eyes were blood shot red and there were two throbbing veins coming out of my forehead. "I am going to make you pay" I said out loud, while holding onto the sink as I pictured it being Dennis's neck I was squeezing the life out of. I wasn't going to let this betrayal go unpunished. Law number 15 of my code advocated the utter annihilation of the soul, body and mind of one's enemies; and I had never failed to abide by my code... I would spend the following three days concocting a plan of action. At first I had no idea how I was going to make Dennis face the consequences of his ungentlemanlike behaviour. The usual route as far as these things were concerned, was to sleep with his wife or his girlfriend. But he presently had neither; which took away from the easiest option on the list. One day, while sitting in a crew bosses meeting where he finally announced his plans of starting his own HVAC company, the only question on my mind as I watched him go through some sort of triumph speech was: "What do you care about the most, and how can I rip it out of your tiny little hands while feeding you your own heart in the process?" and that's when it hit me; the only thing he truly cared about was his business, his mighty sales contingent... Dennis had been putting everything he had into KMC for a little over ten years now. He was a well known success story in the industry. The only son of two greek immigrants, who driven by the only thing that everyone in that room shared, which was sheer ambition, dropped out of high school to capitalize on the amazing gold rush that was the government commodity sector deregulation of the late 80's early 90's in the province of Ontario. Overnight, private companies could now buy large amounts of Natural Gas and Hydro directly from the suppliers, and sell it back to the public at a borderline illegal markup, under the pretense that the rate at which the client signed the agreement was to never fluctuate, no matter how high market price went. He would start off going door to door for years on end, while learning the true secret to the business; leverage your own knowledge... In this industry, knowledge was money. The more people you thought how to do what you did, the more money you made. The hardest part was to find people crazy enough to brave the atrocious learning curve not to say the fear of sometimes working your butt off for a whole entire week, to find out the following payday that all your deals had canceled and there was no paycheck with your name on it; try explaining that to your landlord. But on the flip side, if you could manage the daunting task of pushing a guy all the way to his first Three thousand dollar cheque in one week of the same hours that he would have put into a construction job that payed significantly less, then you had a lifer on your hands. Sales is like gambling; once you taste the sweet flavor of fast money, you become hooked for life. By now, Dennis through restless hard work had managed to amass a large enough amount of those lifers, which had made his organization a self-duplicating entity. That's where I was going to hit him; by taking away his entire sales-force. Law number 42 of my code

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advised striking the Sheppard in order to scatter the sheep. I was going to cleave him from his own herd and watch him perish in the wilderness... The following day, I woke up early in the morning and drove four hours south to Toronto. At 9 A.M sharp, I was in the OEG office flirting with a little red haired receptionist named Carmela that kept taking discreet looks at the bulge area of my tailored suit pants while I waited for Alex to get there. Five minutes before I had her convinced that a smoke break in the back of my BMW was in order, Alex walked in followed by an army of Lawyers and accountants. Upon laying eyes on me, he instructed them to wait in one of the boardrooms and began walking in my direction. "Robert, I'm surprised to see you here. Is everything alright?" he asked, while shaking my hand. I would hold on to his a little longer than convention dictated then say: "Well, everything is about to not be alright on your end my friend; you are about to lose a lot of money very soon..." The man who had walked in a few minutes prior looking as though he had just crawled off the cover of a GQ magazine, now looked as if he had just seen his own ghost. "Let's go talk in my office." He put his hand on my back and began leading me towards his personal executive elevator. Once two floors up, the elevator doors opened directly onto his office and he pointed to a lounge area that was composed of a full white leather living room set and an antic coffee table on which sat a box of vintage Cohiba Cuban cigars. He took a seat on the couch across from me, reached in the cigar box and said: "Cigar? I had these flown in from Havana last night. Well worth the ten thousand dollar jet fuel tab." He had one of those Russian accents that made him sound as though he would have no problem taking a golf club to someone's knee caps if necessary. "Don't mind if I do" I replied, while watching him light his as I did the same to mine. He took a few strong puffs which filled the room with smoke, leaned back in his seat then said: "So it's true; that little short Greek fuck is trying to cut me out..." Initially, I found myself quite surprised as to how well informed he was about the whole situation. But then again, you didn't get to become a self-made multi-millionaire by the age of 35 without having your ear on the street. I went on for the better part of an hour walking him through the intricate details of what was unfolding at the KMC office. At the end of my tale, rage fueled bite marks had severed the bottom quarter of what was left of his cigar, to the point where he found himself having to put it out. "So why come to me? I thought you were Dennis's golden boy." I took a sip of the Cappuccino his assistant had brought in for me a few minutes prior then said: "Well, let's just say that Dennis and I have some irreconcilable differences. Plus you happen to be the man who signs the cheques of the man who signs my cheques; I thought it was about time we became better friends..." My answer was initially met by a suspicious body scan which was quickly followed by a hearty laugh. "I like you Robert; you are the cunning type. I can see the fire in your eyes. You are going to be very rich one day." I thanked him for the compliment which later on led into fifteen minutes of unnecessary small talk. I attributed his 252

curiosity to the fact that he saw a younger version of himself when he looked at me, and decided to play along with his 21 questions game about my background. Until he finally decided to ask the one question I had hoped to hear out of his mouth since I had gotten behind the wheel of my car that morning. "So, what do you propose we do to stop that little vermin in his tracks?" I took another sip of my Cappuccino and sat the flowery china tea cup on its saucer with a faint smile on my face then said: "I thought you would never ask..."

The plan was simple; phase one was isolation. I managed to convince Alex to call Dennis in order to congratulate him on his new venture and thank him for his well rendered services, by giving him access to his private jet which would take him to the Bahamas where he would spend a week roaming the seas aboard Alex's 50 feet Flybridge yacht. Unable to resist the temptation of a week at sea surrounded by nothing but crystal blue water and Russian sports models, Dennis gladly jumped onto the opportunity, leaving his office at the mercy of wolves. Phase two was to get all the crew bosses on board for a possible transition plan. This wasn't going to be as easy; Dennis had made all of them aside from Kayla who was a recent addition, very rich men. And they were not going to up and leave his side without asking a few questions first. This is the part of the plan that required immense care on my part. If they happened to figure out that the idea of this whole entire coup had originated from me, for the sole purpose of my own personal gain, they would put up major resistance therefor resulting in the whole plan falling apart... Luckily for me, Dennis had broken one Law of my code that I was about to use to cost him everything he had worked for all these years. Law number 45 outlined that preaching the need for change was fine; but reforming too much at once was a sure path towards damnation. The only thing that these guys were truly loyal to was their money; but most importantly, the consistency at which it came in. One evening, Alex and I decided to take them out for dinner and I spent the better part of an hour selling them on the fact that Dennis's new venture which meant straying away from just running a sales contingency to taking on such responsibilities as covering equipment installs, negotiating with suppliers and building a customer service call center, would only mean one thing. More overhead on the company's books; which meant a cut in commissions and bonuses not to say a way longer wait as far as promotions were concerned... The latter seemed to get at least half the room on my side. A few voices around the table begun rising by formulating various reasons behind their discontent of how Dennis was now running the shop. The second half would carry on objecting, claiming that they wished to speak to Dennis about his definitive plans one last time before making a decision. That is when Alex decided to step in and offer everyone around the table a fifty thousand dollar signing bonus, and a Mercedes S class to each of them as a 253

token of his appreciation if they decided to come on board right away. A half hour later, the conversation around the table had dramatically shifted. A vote would be taken proclaiming me as the new leader of the group which meant that upon the signing of the new employment contracts, I would be crowned KMC's new Lord supreme commander. We would all part ways that evening agreeing to meet in three days time for the signing ceremony...

Three days later, I walked into the office feeling like nothing less of a God. I was a few signatures away from crushing an enemy while assuming the rains of a massive sales organization in the process. My day couldn't have gotten any better if you had told me that Rihanna wanted to make a sex tape with me. Upon my entrance through the glass doors however, a feeling of unease immediately took me over. The usually buzzing office was dead quiet; even the administrative staff was nowhere to be found. I took a look at my watch and it red 10 A.M; we had agreed to all be here by 9:45 at the end of dinner the other night. I began peeking through boardrooms and offices still unable to find a single living soul. Until I heard the last voice I was expecting to hear then, rise from behind me. "Hello Robert; looking for something?" Startled, I sharply turned around to find a non-tanned Dennis standing behind me. One look at the smirk on his face, and it became instantly evident; he knew everything... "Dennis, Hi. Back so soon, glad to see you brother" I said, trying to mask the trembling in my voice to the best of my abilities. He exploded in a maniacal laugh and said: "Glad? Are you really glad Robert? Because I hear you've been quite busy trying to fuck me over in my absence.." And just like that, everything was over. My dreams of running my own shop had been suffocated at the hand of a man I had pronounced dead a few days prior. That's when the nature of my crucial mistake dawned on me. I had violated the number one Law of my code; I had attempted to outshine the master and had lost. And now, I was about to pay. I let out a laugh that clearly indicated that I no longer had anything to lose then said: "Well, you fucked me without even the courtesy of a reach around before all this. So consider this good old fashioned payback. Now, how about we stop wasting each other's time and you tell me where you want to go from here?" He took a few steps closer to me and put his hands on his hips in conquerer fashion then said: "Well, if it was up to me I would stick a pen in your throat and watch you bleed out on this carpet. But lucky for you, my carpet cleaning bills are through the roof this month so I am just going to have to do with watching you pack your shit and get the fuck out of my office. You are fired." I couldn't think of anything smart or clever enough to say back that would save whatever little was left of my dignity. So I nodded in defeat and began walking towards the glass entrance doors with my tail between my legs. That's when his voice rose again for the purpose of putting a final dagger through my heart. "Oh by the way, thank your little girlfriend on my behalf for the heads up when you see her. If it wasn't for her, I would be on the ocean while you and that Russian Jew fuck obliterated everything I have worked so hard for..." 254

Once I got back behind the wheel of my car, I sat there for a few minutes in a complete state of shock. But not at the prospect of losing my job, that I could work around. I had managed to make myself a big enough name in the industry that I would have no problem finding open doors. But rather at the idea that it was Kayla that had tipped Dennis off about my plans. I immediately pressed the start button on my car and put the V8 engine to work by speeding at a furious rate towards Kayla's house. Ten minutes later, I was banging on her door like a mad man yelling out her name. "Kayla come the fuck out, we need to talk right now." Five minutes later, she finally opened the door wearing her NHS uniform; she had gotten her old job back... "What the fuck do you want? Keep banging on my door and I will call the cops." Her statement would immediately give rise to some rather homicidal thoughts as I pictured myself taking one of her garden gnomes to her skull. But instead, I took a deep breath and attempted to summon whatever little calm energy I had left then said: "You fucked me Kayla; you told Dennis about my plans and now I lost everything, my job included. Why?" Her reaction would be the last one I expected following a question of the sort. She began laughing hysterically then said: "Why? Fucking why Robert? You used me as a bargaining chip you piece of shit, that's why. My boss made me listen to the voice mail you left on his phone, then showed me the brochures you planted in my car knowing that he was going to find them and fire me. Now you get a taste of your own medicine and you are standing here asking why? It's called fucking Karma Robert, live with it. Now get the fuck off my property." She then slammed the door in my face and walked back inside her house... I would stand in front of it for another fifteen minutes before gathering enough energy to walk away. As I stood there smitten by what had just unfolded, all I could hear were her words echoing infinitely into my soul. She was right, I had spent my whole entire life trying to one up everyone and everything in my surroundings; without a single care in the world as far as the damages I was doing to the lives of others were concerned. As long as I got mine, then all was well in the world. I had never done or said a single thing in my whole entire life that was not motivated by own gain, yet here I was, with close to nothing; feeling empty and more alone than ever. What was the point of it all I kept asking myself.. My code, this brilliant mind I had put to selfish use, this constant need for accolades and recognition, my complete and utter refusal to see myself lose, my fear of feeling less than the ones I was so busy hurting in order to gain their approval; what was it all for? The answer would come to me from the mouth of the single person responsible for me shifting into the person I was then; on a beach half way across Central America...

The curse of all Sons of Monarchy...

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The moment I got back behind the wheel of my car, all I wanted was to get away from it all; the conniving, the prospect of taking another shot at Dennis, my constantly ringing phone, the stress of having to figure out what I was going to do next, who I was going to approach for a job? how I was going to do it? would my team follow or stay behind? All these things added up, felt like an overactive bee hive had found refuge inside my skull. Without even giving it a second thought, I started my car and drove directly to the airport. Twenty minutes later, with nothing but the Armani tailored suit on my back and the one pair of underwear I had on, I stood in the middle of the airport looking at the departure and arrival board for the next flight somewhere warm. All I wanted in that moment was to just lay on a beach where no one knew me, and just feed my thoughts as much whiskey as my saddened liver would be able to handle... I noticed an Air Canada flight towards San Jose Costa Rica that was due for departure in the next half hour. I then immediately approached the girl that was working the counter and asked if there was any room on the aircraft. Following a steady five minutes of digging around, she looked up with a smile on her face and said: "As a matter of fact, I think this is your lucky day. One passenger just canceled her first class reservation at the last minute and if you get it now it would be half the price she paid." I debated going on a tangent about how the whole point of me standing in front of her was because today was actually the furthest thing from my lucky day. But decided not to; I was in no mood for conversation. "Awesome, I will take it" I said, slightly grinning while I handed her my credit card... Five hours later, we landed at the Juan Santamaria International airport. That's when it suddenly hit me that I spoke little to no Spanish. I would however quickly find solace in the fact that I spoke the most widespread language in the world; dollars. I hailed a cab and hoped in the back to find myself pleasantly surprised by the sound of my driver speaking English on the phone. Maybe the girl at the Air Canada counter had been on to something, maybe the tables were finally turning. "Alright my friend, take me to the best resort within reasonable driving distance. But first, we have to stop at the mall." He cracked a sympathetic smile as he took a closer look at me from his rear view mirror then said: "The airline lost your suitcase?" Wishing it was that simple, and still not in the mood to socialize yet despite the fact that I was right in the middle of paradise, I let him believe his statement in an effort to make sure that he stopped talking to me... Following two hours of retail therapy at the Plaza America, I finally checked into a Villa overlooking the ocean at the Westin Playa Conchal. The place was breath takingly luxurious. Set on an all white sand beach, the hotel had 406 rooms, two mega pools, eight a la carte restaurants, five bars, and a world renowned golf course. But all I was interested in in the immediate future, were the five bars I intended to spend my days taking advantage of. Later that evening, I went downstairs to have dinner then decided to put the resort owners' judgment to the test, by making them reconsider the whole idea of all inclusive drink packages. Nine whiskey neats later however, I began feeling a bit sick and decided to lay my head against the bar counter I was sitting on. But a few minutes into my cat nap, a voice that somehow sounded strangely familiar rose from the seat beside me and said: "Hey, are you ok?" I slowly lifted my head with the intention of quickly dismissing whoever's unwelcome concern this was, but as soon as I laid eyes on her, all words immediately evaded my brain as I 256

sat there rubbing my eyes like a stunned cartoon character, thinking that I was either dreaming or the whiskey was now playing tricks on me. My reaction was however not just particular to me; she seemed just as shocked to see me judging by the look on her face. "Oh my God, Rob? Is this you?" she said, in a tone that clearly indicated that she thought herself delusional as well. I managed to finally regain some verbal skills and put a few inaudible syllables together. "Jesus Christ, Amy? What are you doing here?" As soon as I said her name, a big gorgeous smile instantly took possession of her face, followed by a stream of joyful tears as she leaped off her feet to hug me tight... As soon as our bodies collided in a warm tight embrace, it felt as though all the weight in the world had just suddenly been lifted off my shoulders. Everything around me went silent as I closed my eyes and felt her skin against mine. It was as if after years of a never ending search through a loud and busy universe, I had finally just managed to find that only perfect place of peace and quite in it's ever so complex fabric. Nirvana was no longer a place; but a moment for me. She still wore the same Cocoa butter lotion she did when we were kids. And a single whiff of it instantly took me on a journey composed of the most amazing memories of my life. We would stand there for at least a minute, holding each other tighter every second that went by, unable to let go at the thought of finding out that this was all a dream the moment we did so... Once we finally realized that this moment was indeed set into reality, we began to loosen our grips so we could look at each other. Despite the beautiful pearly white smile illuminating her face in that instant, it was still covered by an on going flow of tears, so much so that her nose started running. My eyes couldn't help it either, and begun tearing in unison with hers as I wiped her face and she wiped mine to the sound of our collective surprised giggles. "Wow, I don't know what to say. I can't believe you are here, in front of me, after all these years" I said, unable to contain the almost child like excitement in my voice. She immediately reached for both my hands, kissed the right one, gave me another quick hug still smiling bright then said: "I know, I still can't believe this is real. You are here, in flesh and bone, my Roby.." I affectionately squeezed both her hands and said: "My God, what are you doing here?" As soon as I asked that question, her whole entire demeanor changed, she quickly yanked her hands away from mine and took a step back with the facial expression of someone who had just realized that they left the stove on in their apartment then said: "I.. I am getting married.. Tomorrow.."

Not even half way through processing the shell shock like effects of her answer, a tall well built white guy with brown hair came around the corner, put his arm around her shoulder then said: "Ah, there you are. I have been looking around for you everywhere." He then took a look at her face and immediately noticed that she had been crying and said: "Honey, is everything alright?" She quickly wiped the remaining tears off her face, took a deep breath and said: "Yeah, yeah, everything is great. Honey, this is Robert, a childhood friend from back home. Roby, this is Eric; my fiancee." He instantly reached for my hand and began to shake it vigorously. "Robert, pleasure meeting you. Are you here for the wedding? I didn't see you at the rehearsal dinner tonight." I explained to him that I was there on vacation and had happened to run into Amy by sheer luck and he said: "Well, any friend of Amy is a friend of mine. We 257

would be honored to have you at the reception tomorrow night." I didn't know what to say, and judging by the look on her face, neither did Amy. "I am sorry, tomorrow is no good for me" I said, unable to find a reason strong enough to validate that statement. "But I wish the both of you all the best; Nice seeing you again Amy." I then quickly walked off towards my Villa, knocking a few chairs over in my clumsy drunken exit... As I lied there in my King size bed, watching the cool ocean breeze blow the soft white day curtains up and down, I began wondering if that's how I should have handled Eric's invitation. Amy and I were eons in the past now, and she didn't owe me anything, why couldn't I find it in me to be happy for her and attend what was most likely going to be the happiest day of her life? But then again, where did one find the strength to attend the wedding of the only woman they had ever truly loved. I kept picturing her reaction at the sight of me earlier on over and over. It was clearly evident that she had also felt something. I debated getting out of bed, going out to look for her and doing what I did best; which was taking what I wanted. But a voice inside my head kept telling me that it was too late, that disrespecting that poor man by going after his fiancee on the eve of their wedding day was nothing but an act of selfishness. That's when I decided to turn over and go to sleep. Upon reaching the edge of a slumber state however, I heard three consecutive soft knocks at my door... The clock on my night stand red 1:30AM, and I had not ordered any room service. Unless it was some overzealous house keeper showing off for a promotion, I couldn't possibly imagine who could be at my door. Still half asleep, I staggered through the villa's sitting area and opened the door while rubbing sleep out of my eyes. "Can you believe this place gives you a complimentary case of Crystal if you book the honeymoon suite?" It was Amy; wearing nothing but a long, form fitting blue satin dress and some flip flops. Judging by the level of cleavage exposure that was unfolding, I assumed the designer of the dress just like Amy were not believers in bosom incarceration. But then again, with a body like hers, it was a shame that we lived in a society that frowned upon nudism. "Well then, remind me to ask for a room transfer first thing in the morning." She blessed me yet again with that smile that could have lit a pitch black room, raised the bottle of champagne in the air and said: "Get dressed, we are going for a walk.."

For a night with a full moon, I found myself a bit surprised by the little number of people that were out and about on the beach. "This place is absolutely stunning isn't it? We have been here for a week and leave for Aruba right after the wedding, but I really don't want to go." I felt a knot in my throat following her statement but managed to keep my composure as we kept walking side by side with her holding onto my arm. "So what's her name?" she asked, in a bit of a detective like tone. "She?" I replied, slightly perplexed by her question. "Yes, the girl that broke your heart to the point that you decided to come get drunk alone half way across the world." I couldn't help but laugh at her attempt at overreaching and said: "Nah, there is no she. It's just everything else in my life that begs for some bottle time." As I kept walking, she stopped while still holding onto my arm and said: "Sit, tell me everything. Starting from the moment you walked away from me underneath our tree." 258

I had spent my whole entire life priding myself in never feeling the need to share my burden with anyone. I was a lone wolf, and everyone else pray; wolves never sat to pour their hearts out to sheep;until that fateful night.. I looked in Amy's eyes and saw them overflowing with compassion, a genuine need to help me carry my cross; opening up to her became instantly effortless. We sat on the sand looking at the waves and passing the bottle of champagne back and forth as I went on for almost two hours filling her in on every single detail of my life. From my father's free fall from the financial pedestal, to us having to move from the US because we could no longer afford to live there, to our stay in a refugee shelter, to finally making it to University but choosing to deal drugs instead, all the way to the abortion of my child and all the newest struggles that had unfolded in my professional life as of late. She was the first person I had ever told about my code; at first, she looked a bit apprehensive at the thought of sitting beside someone who lived by a set of rules that promoted the playing on people's need to believe in order to create a cult like following; but never once said a judgmental word about it... By the time I finished telling her about every single detail of my life since I had last seen her, the rays of the rising sun were starting to pick out of the horizon. She had listened closely without a single interruption. Once I was done, she grabbed my hand, squeezed it affectionately and said the few little words that would later on give birth to this book. "Wow, I know exactly what you are going through believe it or not. I even have a term for it." I laughed at her rather shrink-like statement and said: "Is that right? Go ahead and analyze me then Doc." she let out a laugh, inched even closer to me, laid her head on my shoulder while still holding on to my arm and said: "You have the curse." I abruptly turned my head towards her and exploded in a laugh at the idea of witchcraft being at the hand of my misery then said: "The curse? What do you mean the curse?" She kept on staring into the rising sun with her head still on my shoulder and replied: "Yes, the curse of all Sons of Monarchy..." "You and all the likes of you spend your whole entire life as princes, feeling as though you are the chosen ones, that where you are is where God wants you to be because it is the natural order of things. Until you wake up one morning and realize that the people have risen and in your place now stands the Republic, which means no more room for your kind. The lucky amongst you come to peace with exile and the idea of a normal life; while the majority, the cursed ones, spend every waking moment looking to climb back to the heights they once knew. Inadvertently forgetting that peace resides within working alongside the Republic, as it is an instrument of the people, not in doing whatever is in their power to topple it." In that moment, I fell in love with her all over again. But this time a thousand times more than I had ever been when we were fifteen. She was right; I had spent my whole entire life looking to relive old glories, while forgetting to just live at the same time. As a result, I had lost sight of my true self by seeking refuge into a set of laws that acted as a shield against my refusal to accept life as it came... "Amy, I am sorry" I said, while kissing the top of her head. She lifted it off my arm to look at me and asked: "For what? You didn't do anything to me." I grabbed her hand that now sat on my knee, looked her in the eye and said: "I was selfish for walking away from you, and not 259

picking up your phone calls afterwards. Especially because not long before that I had begged for your forgiveness for simular reasons, and you had found it within you to give it to me." Before I had had a chance to carry on with my apology however, she raised her right index and middle fingers, and put them both on my lips in an effort to stop me from talking then said: "Shhh, no more. You were hurting, your dad had just left and you were going through a lot. That time is way gone now." She then pointed at the half risen sun and said: "Look, it's a new day now." As I looked at the sunrise, it suddenly dawned on me that this woman, who I now without a shadow of a doubt knew that she was the one God had put on this earth for me, would very soon belong to another man. The thought of it shattered my heart... "Do you love him?" I asked, while fully shifting my body to face her. She ran her fingers through her long silky hair and said: "He is a good man; and he is very kind to me. And yes, I think I love him." The weight of disappointment instantly crushed my soul and all I could do was nod at her answer. "But here is what I know for sure," she begun again, "There is not a day that goes by that I don't think about you. About what we had, about how I've never loved a man as much as I loved you, and how I can't help but wonder if it's a sign that I would run into you half way across the world the night before my wedding." We sat there for a few seconds looking at each other, and then in a moment of heated passion, we both simultaneously pounced towards one another and locked lips. I hadn't felt butterflies this animated in my stomach since the last time I had kissed her. She began undoing the button on my shirt as I bit her neck and undid the zipper on her dress. After nearly a ten year wait, had my first time with Amy finally come this time? That age old question would bring back memories of the last time her and I had gotten this passionate. The sensation of fear and confusion that emitted out of her that night was palpable. That is when I realized that that same feeling was present even here. Up until the night before, she had planned her life like the perfectionist she was to a T. Until I showed up and began wrecking emotional havoc by bringing back tales of an old teenage romance. This was the woman that had just given me back my life, the one that through a few words of wisdom had just oriented me in the direction towards peace of mind; no matter how much I loved her for it, I just found it impossible to keep going because it felt like another one of my selfish mistakes, and I was done with those. She had started to undo the strings on the swimming shorts I had on when I put my hand on hers and said: "Hold on baby, wait." She replied by taking a strong enough bite of my lower lip to draw blood and said: "Seriously? Ten years later and you are still stopping me from having sex with you?" I ran my finger across my lip in an effort to assess the damage, and once I made sure that there was no need for stitches, I grabbed her hand and said: "Trust me, I would swim across this ocean right now for a chance at making love to you. But I need to know if you are sure about this. That this is what you want. Because once we cross this line, there really is no going back to your old life." She took a deep breath and ran both hands through her beautiful hair with eyes closed then said: "I don't know Rob. I'm sorry. I really don't know if this what I want." Upon finishing that sentence, a flow of tears came running down her face and she buried her head in her knees in order to let them out. That's when I got back on my feet and extended her a hand in order to help her up. Once we stood facing each other, I wiped the tears off her face and said: "Don't cry pretty girl, today is going to be the most beautiful day of your life. You are 260

getting married." She smiled with still teary eyes, stood on her toes to give me a hug then said: "I love you Rob." I held her tighter in my arms as her words jerked a few tears out of me and replied: "I love you too Princess.." Once we got back to the part of the resort that required us to go our separate ways, we looked at each other, both knowing that neither of us wanted to let the other go. "So, I guess this is it" she said, attempting to fake a smile that was quickly betrayed by yet another set of tears. "I guess so, yeah." I replied, as I grabbed her hand and pulled her closer to me. "Amy, you understand the reason why I can't come today right? I mean I really want to be there for you but it would just hurt too much and I don't think I.." She would save me from my mumbling by putting her silence fingers on my lips yet again; then slowly kiss my cheek and say: "I know Roby. I don't know how I would say I do either, knowing that the potential love of my life is sitting there watching me." She then began to slowly walk away while we still held hands, until our fingers finally separated and we walked backwards still looking at each other. Once I could no longer hold the flow of tears I felt rising, I decided to turn around and speed walk to my room in an effort to not have her see me like that for what was most likely the last time... I went straight to bed and slept through the better part of the afternoon. Upon opening my eyes, I felt an undeniable feeling of change. As if I had just woken up from a long coma to find everything around me brand new. I walked to the balcony of my villa and took in a deep breath of the cool ocean breeze as I stretched my limbs. I then reached in my pocket for my pack of cigarettes; but once I took one out, I found the need for it immediately extinguished and I took the entire pack and chucked it over the rail. That was another one of my old habits that belonged in my past life. I was no longer that guy anymore. But I somehow felt that regardless of my rebirth, I should not forget about my story; as it was a cautionary tale for the future that I not only had to keep in mind for my own sake, but also share. If it meant saving the life of one or two Sons of Monarchy. That's when I rushed to the resort's souvenir shop and bought a laptop. My new mission in life was to now tell my story, and it was going to begin with putting it down on paper... I sat on the balcony and began writing out some thoughts as I watched the sun set over the infinite horizon of the North Pacific ocean. That moment, I made the decision to stay in Costa Rica until my book was finished. There was something about that place that just kept inspiring me to do good. Either that, or the fact that I no longer felt the need to impress or always be in a dominating position. All I wanted to do from now on was live my life, one day at a time, without egotistical influences that constantly took me away from enjoying the beauty that was the present moment by sequestering me in a prison made of fear and worry. I began thinking about Amy; and the gift of freedom she had just bestowed upon me. By now she had probably already said I do and was on her way to Aruba for her honeymoon. In the midst of picturing that slightly heart sinking image however, I heard three soft consecutive knocks at my door that were exactly simular to the ones from the night before. My hand began to shake immediately; It was Amy, I could sense it... A part of me got very excited and wanted to rush towards the door. But another couldn't help but be petrified by the wonder of the reason behind her visit. Had she come back to tell me that she hadn't been able to go through with it? That she wanted me and only me and that our 261

serendipitous encounter after all these years was a sign from heaven that she could no longer ignore? Or had she come to say one final good-bye, before taking off to her honeymoon with her new husband? One final embrace before she moved to a suburb somewhere in Iowa? where her new life of mommy and me classes would now begin? Was I to forever go down in her memory as the one that could have been? I took a deep breath and began walking towards the door; knowing that whatever I was due to uncover behind it, no matter how life changing it might be, I was going to somehow find a way to accept it and carry on with a smile. Because the new Robert Mudenge, was now truly the master of his own fate, the commander of his own soul...

THE END...

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