Venice (bxb)

15. Tangerine

          "We even bought the kid a car."

          Valentina stationed at the kitchen island, smiles sarcastically at her mother, "Aren't you too old to realise you can't just throw money at all of your problems?"

           Via is towering over a huge salad bowl, adding chilli oil to it. "Well, we didn't want to make him feel like he was being treated differently."

           She stares at her mother, "you could've always gotten that ban lifted. You just never did. Interesting."

           "We discussed it with Aunt El, he just seemed ready to get behind the wheel again."

           "You know what I think?"
            Via silently begs her to proceed.
           "You think that Venice's throwing his weight around, making Jace feel inferior or something. I think that's the conclusion you came to."

           Via purses her lips, not wanting to give her daughter more credit than she's already bit away. She did not want to deepen the smug smile on her face by giving her verbal admission that yes, you're right, you've read your mother like a book. How do you do it, Valentina, my genius freaking show pony of a daughter?

             "How's Jason feeling about it, though? Is he doing okay?"
             "Of course he's doing okay, he's gotten a jaguar out of it."
             "Then why aren't they talking to each other?"

             Valentina rolls her eyes at her mom, "because you read the question wrong, mom. Venice is a huge pussy, he can't push people around and they were fighting because Venice keeps telling Jason that he hates what you guys do for a living and he's going to run away someday."

            It's not like Via hadn't a hunch. She's always known. "My poor kid."

            "Right, if Venice acts like hot shit, he's a poor kid, if I do it, I'm schizophrenic."

            "You don't understand, Val, he was never made for this."

            Valentina smiles, "no, Ma, you don't understand. You never did. You think you read your children like chart patterns but you're always betting on the godamn wrong thing. And honestly, I'm done with this shit. Just because your son is an attention whore doesn't mean you have to give it to him too. There's always going to be people mad at Venice. Not because he's naive or not cut out for this dangerous world we live in but because he's an asshole. He's an ass and he lives inside his head where he thinks he's better than all of us. And somehow he's convinced you too, that he is. He runs circles around you and all you can see is him. I could be drowning in front of you and all you would be able to see is Venice losing a pound or two. This is borderline obsessive, Mom. Like nobody gives a shit about your son. He's mediocre as f*** but he's so good at manipulating people into thinking that he's not." Her fingers flutter against the cool marble, "But hey, I thought you'd figure it out. You went to Stanford."

          "Right, because Stanford taught me how to raise a f***ing brat." But Via, said this under her breath, barely audible because somewhere she was terrified that Valentina would shoot her in her sleep.

Venice had been in his room, doing his homework and not just because he was an A* student but because he had plans in the evening.