My Bad Boy

Chapter seven

( JULIO POV )

My pop and mi madre had what you could call love.

At least I like to believe they did.

My mom had me when she was young and my pop was there for her to raise me in the beginning. They had no money to help them and my pop swore every day to my mom that they were going to make it.

My mom tries to sell me on the idea that my pop gave a shit about his kids but the one thing my pop could never be was a father. I just think he didn't have it in his blood to take care of the people he brought into this life.

The truth is real fathers stay at home and help their kids through life. They encourage them to do good. They make sure they support them no matter how hard it might be to do so.  What has my father ever done for me?

Nada.

I think about all of this as I race down the road with my motorcycle. The wind whips my hair and I squint my eyes against the sudden bursts. My hands suddenly tighten on the handlebars as I think more and more about him.

The best my pop could do was make a call from prison once a month, asking mom if she had money to send him. Everytime he did this I would have to snatch the phone from my mother’s tear filled eyes and curse my father out.

I would tell him that we didn’t have the means or the money to send some low beat father who has never given a damn money. I asked him everytime why we should help support the person who was supposed to be at home, taking care of us.

So no, he wasn’t getting a dime from us.

I guess my father was better at getting to me than I first thought.  I always prided myself in being the guy who can have control over situations, but the moment my father talks, it’s like control is the last thing on my mind.

He brings out the side of me I like to keep hidden.

When Becca told me that I held myself well and I got the job, the first thing I did was hop on my ride and head home to tell mi madre.

I knew she was going to be pissed that I wasn’t focusing on school, but the moment the paycheck came in in two weeks, I know she would think differently. Even the little bit I’m getting paid will help us out immensely.

Though the whole time I worked I kept thinking about Kelsey and that stupid red beanie she wore.

I’ll admit, the girl was prettier than I first thought. The way her nose was a little pink from the cold and how her cheeks seemed to hide her blush was even more enticing. If it wasn’t for the way she always looked at me when I wasn’t paying attention, I could almost believe she didn’t like me.

But I know better. The whole act she puts forth is just that; an act. If I could, I would break through the walls she has up and show her something more than the small world she likes to keep herself hidden in. A world where it was okay to be who you wanted.

When I got home the night after my first night at the Cafe, I learned that someone tried to contact me. I knew who it was  without even thinking about it. My mom handed me the phone and I put it in my back pocket, threw my shirt on the floor, and dialled the number they left behind.

When someone picked up and started to speak in Spanish, I knew who it was immediately. I guess one thing my pop made sure of was that all his little drug employers kept an eye on his son and his familia.

His way of showing us his love I guess.

This caller in particular told me that I needed to meet them at this club called the Blue Lagoon on Sunday and make sure I made it there by nine o'clock sharp. I knew for a fact they didn’t like people not showing up on their expected time limit.