Venice (bxb)

2. Drugs

            "So, school starts tomorrow. You boys excited?" Venice and Jace dragged their head up the length of the pseudo-patriarch's height.

            They woke up an hour past noon and their bodies hadn't readjusted to the world of living yet. The boys nodded in reply.

             "Well, take care of your sister, alright?" Begrudging nods.

            "What's wrong with you two?" Via asked from the kitchen island. She looked like she'd been awake for a while. For as long as Ven (or Jace, for that matter) could remember, Via'd always be up at nine. On the dot. Thirty minutes before the Nasdaq was hers for the taking.

            Aunt El materialized at the front door, cheeks dusted red and slightly out of breath. Always been a runner, that Elodie. "Where's Val?"

            Larker rolled his eyes, "self-banished to her room." After Via and Larker's failed attempts to coax their daughter out of her second-floor bedroom, they'd resorted to setting up an office in the kitchen island rather than the basement.

            "You two," It took a while for the boys to realise that Aunt Elodie was addressing them. "Ven? Jace?"

            Their heads fell hanging on the headrests, "yeah?"

           "After breakfast, go out and get some sun."

            "What? Why?"

            Larker occupied the empty seat next to Jace with his cup of decaf. "What do you mean why? Kids your age are supposed to be out."

            Jason was ignited by this conversation, extending his hands towards the window and retracting immediately like it had scorched him. "Oh, the sun, it burns!" He writhed in his seat.

            Even though Venice thought that Jason had presented his case rather brilliantly, the adults were adamant about kicking the boys out.

            Venice pushed his sunglasses up his nose and followed his cousin out the front door in his fake Greta-motif slippers.

            The house felt like it fit in Ven's one hand while he was inside it. He'd gone as far as describing it as claustrophobic to his mother.

            "It's bigger than our home in Long Island, Venice." He understood what she'd meant as he walked out with Jason. It stood tall and sleek in the cul-de-sac.

            "Why you staring at the house, bro?"

            Ven turned to his cousin, "they make too much money selling drugs."

            "Drugs are expensive."

            It wasn't scalding but the sort of warmth you'd welcome if you were half-naked, lying on a cushioned towel near Natoma river. Preferably with beer you sneaked out of your parents' refrigerator.

             "Hey!" Jason was calling out to this kid sat on the pavement. "My name's Jason. What's yours?"

            "Link!"

            "Link for what?"

            "My name!" They were close enough for Jason to not yell at him like an idiot anymore.

            "Link Rivera," he squinted. To be fair, the day was brighter than it was hot.

            "Jason," he pointed to himself and then at his cousin, "and Venice Conigrave." Jason had a trademark way of announcing their surname.

            It's the same tone that people would use to announce their occupation or the fact that they had a PhD.

            Link seemed disenchanted. "Why'd you say it like that?"

            Jason raised an eyebrow. "Like what?"

            Link grinned at him, "like," squaring his shoulders, giving Jason this challenging look and mimicking the same drop in octave, "Conigrave."

            Venice shouldn't have broken into a giggle—but did. He earned himself a stern glare from his cousin. "I don't say it like that."

            "Sure."

           "Do you live around here?" Venice broke what otherwise would've turned into a cycle of I'm-not-are-too.

            Link pointed to the house behind him—which was identical to every house on the cul-de-sac. "That's me."

            "Damn, we neighbours." Link nodded. Seems like he'd noticed.

           "Which school are you guys going to?"

            Jason momentarily looked at Venice for confirmation, "Menlo."

            "No way," he said with a grin that Venice was beginning to mistake for a signature of entitlement, "I go there."

            "Shit," Jason returned Link's indignation. "Senior?"

            What were the chances? In all the 18 years he'd known Jason, the moment they'd moved to bumfuck-Atherton, he was glaring at the very real possibility of being replaced, even worse, redundant.

            "Are you always this quiet?"

            Venice's inner monologue had been interrupted. "No." Yes, he was always this quiet and no, not as half as blunt—but this Link guy was unpalatable. Venice was naturally repulsed by the sort of people that matched Jason's energy. Venice wasn't sure if he would even tolerate him if they weren't relatives.

            "Just me then?" Link feigned hurt. If this were Long Island, this dude would've gotten his face bashed in. First by Venice and then Jace.

           He gestured towards the cobblestoned road that led them into the city, "what do you do here for fun?"

             "Smoke unhealthy amounts of weed."

            Venice wasn't amused, "all the time?"

            Link shook his head at Venice, "you drive?"

            "Yeah."

             "Hot." And Venice doesn't realize that he's kept Link's gaze for a moment longer than what was deemed normal.

             "For real though, sell Atherton to me." It's Jason's voice that cuts them out of their reverie.

             Link just gave him a dastardly smile, "you're coming to school tomorrow right?"