Heartless People

SIX

All good things are difficult to achieve; and bad things are very

easy to get.

—Confucius

LAUREN

"Please, tell me I heard you wrong." I was doing my best to stay calm, but it seemed the world was on piss-the-fuck-out-of-Lauren mode.

Michael sighed, pouring himself a glass of brandy. "I'm afraid not, daughter. Apparently your grandfather will be making a stop in the States."

"But grandfather hates America," Vero stated the obvious, making me want to throw my glass at her face.

Camz leaned against the desk, forcing me to calm down with her eyes. She could do that now. Her own little superpower; where she could control what I was feeling with just her beautiful brown eyes.

But she couldn't understand how much I hated my grandfather and how much he hated me. I didn't even want to give him the satisfaction of talking about him.

"When will he be here?" Chris asked, not bothered at all. Out of all of he was the only one our grandfather liked. If he had it his way, our grandfather would have killed me a long time ago.

"I don't give a fuck, he isn't staying here! He can take his old motherfucking cane and shov—"

"Shove it where, granddaughter?" The devil himself said, dressed in a ten thousand dollar suit, as my mother opened the door for him and his three bodyguards.

My father, Chris,vero and even my own mother stood up straighter, each one of them gave my grandfather the respect his title commanded. I may be the one who ran the Jauregui clan now, but
my grandfather was the one who built it. He was the original. Before him, we were a bunch of street thugs. He created our empire after being a drug runner for a boss much older and wiser than himself. One day,he snapped and took an ax to the motherfucker. War broke out. My grandfather had three very simple skills: killing, thinking and
stealing. If he wanted something, he could have it.

"I think she was going to say, shove it up your old ass." Camz stated with ease, causing the whole family to pause. Even I couldn't speak to the asshole like that.

No matter how high up I was, no matter how powerful, custom made it impossible. When our grandfather passed down the family business, he had my father sign a contract—the same one I had to
sign—stating that hed get five percent of everything, and that he was always treated with respect deserved. Everything was put into writing like this was some civilized business deal. It used to be based
on honor, but everyone wised up to that real quick. Families had to sign their souls away in ink to make sure people knew their place.

His wrinkled old hand tightly gripped his wooden cane as he took a step forward. If you were to age my father thirty years and give him silver hair, he and my grandfather would look exactly the same.

As children, vero and I used to joke that the reason he had so few wrinkles was the fact that he would scare them away when he looked in the mirror. Though now he did look rather worn out.

"You must be the Italian cow now sharing my last name."  He looked her up and down with disgust. As I stood, Camz glared, telling me to back the down or else.

She moved from behind the desk and stood directly in front of his face, causing his bodyguards to step forward as well.

"Old man, you're in my house. That makes you a fucking guest. I don't owe you shit and you will respect me if you want my respect. My name is Camila . Mrs. Jauregui if it suits you," but She leaned
in until their noses were almost touching. She was shorter, but the black heels helped. "If you ever call me a cow again, I will kill you painfully slow. I don't care how many motherfucking body guards you have."