Rich White Boys

1

Ricky danced through the house, his hands twisting and turning with his steps. He was excited. Today was the day his mother would be coming home from her trip to Europe. It was a half year long journey as she island hopped to Norway, crossing to Russia and touring the Eastern states, working her way to Portugal and sailing to Morocco, finally flying home when she reached Egypt.

It wasn't like she had left Ricky by himself. There were maids. Butlers too. There was even a nanny who would stop by every day. It just wasn't the same though. He missed his mother. Ricky was her only child and very precious to her. They would shop together, workout together, go to the movies together. Ricky was her doll that she always wanted. There was tea time on the weekends at two. After a long day of tutoring and work for the pair, there was always their favorite restaurant waiting. When there was a high profile event to attend, there were designer dresses waiting.

Then the divorce happened. Ricky's father felt like he wasn't living up to the future he had fantasized. Ricky's mother didn't want any change in her and her son's lives. The split was easy and quick. The father ended up in Texas with a younger, prettier, gold-digging girlfriend. The mother ended up staying in the contemporary mansion that her son always knew as home. The only thing she requested was a break from the Pennsylvanian life she had grown accustomed to.

Today was finally the day that Ricky had longed for through. His mother always showed him the gifts she purchased for him when they video called, and he couldn't wait for all the cultures to be brought to his front door. He didn't desire to travel. It just wasn't something for him. He didn't want to feel the effects of jet lag and altitude change. And frankly, he didn't want to meet new people. He didn't like to leave his sanctuary of a house and definitely did not want to a few thousand miles away from it.

Ricky fixed his floor-length skirt and cropped shirt, loving the way it fell over his hairless legs and flat stomach. He enjoyed dressing and grooming himself like a female, so that's what he did. All it took for his mother to approve this way of life was for her to see how Ricky's eyes lit up when he tried on his first skirt. From then on, it was her direct order for the servants to accept and allow her son to dress, do his makeup, and act however he wished.

He spun on his bare feet, skipping and leaping to the kitchen. Several cooks were preparing dinner for the night, a simple American meal of mashed potatoes, macaroni and cheese, roasted vegetables, and smoked pork ribs. Ricky refused to eat meat, simply because he didn't like the way it made his stomach feel heavy.

Considering there was still a few hours until dinner, Ricky stole a few grapes from the fridge and rinsed them in the sink before popping them into his mouth and chewing liberally. He continued to dance his way to the front of the house, allowing his outfit and hair to flow around him.

Ricky dropped into his designated armchair, turning to lay sideways. He loved the way it felt for his head to fall back, using the time to imagine what it would be like to walk on the ceiling. This thought was interrupted when he heard a familiar pair of shoes tapping on the tile floor.

Ricky scrambled to stand up, dashing forward to his mother. They wrapped their arms around each other, savoring the embrace. When they pulled away, Ricky was surprised to see how his mother's appearance had really changed. Her hair had been shortened from waist length to be just grazing her chin. It was lightened too, from the black that matched Ricky's shoulder length hair to a gentle caramel. Her skin was no longer a ghostly white but a glowing tan. She wore a light linen skirt and matching long sleeve blouse, a silk scarf around her neck and back of her head. The only thing she wore that was not ethnic was her favorite pair of black Louboutins.

Just as she opened her mouth to speak, a man stepped into the room, another following behind him. Both of them wore all black suits, dark sunglasses, and had dyed black hair.

"Ricky, this is Brian Hugh Warner, your new father, and your new brother, Christopher Thomas Cerulli." Ricky's mother explained, motioning for the two new family member to step forward.

Unfortunately, Ricky was absolutely disgusted with the way his mother had gotten married without telling him, to someone he had never met. Before Christopher could even say hello to his sibling, Ricky rushed away to his bedroom.

He had nothing to say to the two men that invaded his life, and only negative things to say to his mother. Ricky didn't want to get on her bad side, however, so he just stayed silent.

He stripped down to a pair of pink lace panties and a matching bralette, stamping into the bathroom where he washed his makeup off and pulled his hair into a loose bun. From there, Ricky crawled into his bed, letting his bamboo sheets and angora blankets pin him down. He stared at the ceiling, letting his gaze trail down to the bleak room that surrounded him. Everything was a shade of white, pale grey, or pastel. Ricky didn't mind this, he enjoyed it as a matter of fact. He liked things to be clean and in order.

There was a sharp knock at Ricky's door and it cracked open. Christopher took a step in, looking around for a moment. He was surprised with how the room was light, rather than heavy and dark like a typical American house.

"Out!" Ricky demand, pulling his arm out from under his blankets and pointing the way Christopher came. Christopher sighed and turned away, leaving and shutting the door behind him. He sighed, knowing that at least he made an effort to connect with the boy he would be seeing every day for the next few years or possibly longer.

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