She's The Artist

| Chapter 30: Expect The Unexpected |

{LISTEN TO SONG AT THE TOP}

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"I. . ." I stutter, or more like tremble at his presence in front of me right now. I was just placed on the spot with two very human, very built man not only in front, but behind me as well.

One of those men being the one, and the only, Ethan mortherfucking Preze. The gang member, dealer, fit as a whole ass house man standing in front of me with a big old grin of victory in place of his usual blank face. Not to mention, his eye's give off his whole demeanour and dominance which may or may not be giving off Mafia vibes.

So, tell me this, how the fuck am I going to 'say sorry' to someone like him? That's right, you can't. So, in a situation like this one, you run.

Well, you could do that. Or, you could just stop being a cry baby and just talk to him like the adult you are. 

Sometimes I really, really hate my conscience. Don't get me wrong, sometimes she comes in handy, (a.k.a when getting drunk or high as a door nail) But the other times, she's just a pain in the ass.

"Earth to Alex. Hello?" Ethan's deep, muscular, voices brings me out of my mind and back to the present. That and him waving in my face like I'm stupid and out of my mind.

I'm about to respond to his calling, like a normal and not stupid person would do, but I stop. With my month half-way open and my face frozen in a state of awe, I see something that I haven't seen in a long time. Something that only my brother would know about.

I slowly let my mind sink into the thought of what I saw just behind Ethan. What I saw just past his door, and straight into the back of his room. It's way better then the face Ethan is making right now. Way better. 

Slowly but carefully, I step around Ethan without breaking my eye's away from the object in front of me. It seems like the world around me had just blurred. Blurred into nothing but mush and dust. It seems like I'm in my own little world. One wear only me and this piece of my broken past can come together and stay.

I'm half aware of the voices calling to me, trying to break me out of this fantasy that I never want to leave. I'm sure I look like I have just lost my mind, but, at the moment, I really don't care. All I care about is the piece that is now in front of me.

My brother's guitar.

How I didn't see Ethan carrying this around blows my mind beyond repair. How could I have been so blind? He came to my apartment with this guitar and I still didn't notice. Even when I woke up here, I spotted a wooden guitar in the place that it's in now.

"What the hell White?! You can't just come in here saying you want to apologize and then just blank out like some-"

"How do you know about this guitar?" I ask before he can even finish scolding me for just walking into his room. I have to know if he knows what kind of guitar this is. Or even if this is my brothers at all. I do remember finding out that my farther and him were close so there has to be a connect somehow.

"What? It's just a guitar that one of the gang members gave me when I was small. That's it." I hear Ethan say and that gives me some intel on how he received this exact guitar. I don't know much about them, but I could tell which one was my brothers and which one was not.

Well, only because that's the only one I would want to remember. 

You see, my brother had gotten his guitar taken away when I was in 8th grade. He told me it was because dad said that it was to load and that he wanted the house to be in peace and quiet. Jack and I didn't believe it but, we let it go. Well, at least I did. I quickly found out that-that was not the reason for why he did that. He did it to earn cash. When Jack found out he was so furious at dad that he went to the shop he sold it to and with the money he had saved from starting his new job, bought it back. Now, when my dad somehow found out we knew that he would just take it back and sell it again. So, we put our initials on it. I wrote mine on the upper bout on the back and Jack had written his on the lower bout on the back as well. We had marked something that would always be ours and so we would one day go back, and buy it again.