Trigger King

Chapter 1

CHAPTER ONE

Wedding is the part of family occasion that I always dread and since it's going be Gustave's wedding in two months, I was expecting for the worst. I would see Padre's old friends, from different countries and continents. My father is half-Colombian and he fancies making friends with different nationalities that involve his business.

More friends. More connections. More money for our family.

"The Ricafortes will visit us," my father mentioned while looking at me. Faustino Ricaforte, the head of their family is my father closest associate. He has a filial son, Viktor Ricarforte and the man that my father wanted me to get physically involved with--my body in exchanged of Ricarfortes Mexican cartel connection.

Noong kinse anyos ako ang unang pagkikita namin ni Viktor, sampung taon ang tanda niya sa akin. Malaking lalaki si Viktor, matapang ang itsura at matalim ang mga salitang lumalabas dito. Just use your body, Gustave mentioned.

'Yon ang ginagamit niya sa mapapangasawa niyang si Delilah Antoquia, mula sa angkan ng mga politiko. Sampung taon ang tanda ng babae kay Gustave pero bulag-bulagan ang aking kapatid. Magpapakasal siya para sa koneksyon, para sa pamilya.

Dinner was the second family occasion that I hate--dinner is where Papa usually command us like a puppet. Mama didn't look at me and my twin brother raised his eyebrow to say what he wanted me to respond. Wala na akong takas, hindi na akong pwedeng magpatay-malisya sa gustong mangyari ni Papa.

"I'm preparing for it," I said in a whisper. My voice is so small. My father, Guerero Castellanos lowered his utensils, and I embraced his discipline as what he would always call it.

When you answer, Cherry. Answer with dignity and pride. With conviction and not weakness, never ever sound that you're a pathetic person who isn't sure of what he's going to do, that's weakness for Padre.

I looked down and my legs trembled as Papa quietly assessed me away from his table. Napakahaba ng mesang gawa sa Narra't nagsusumigaw ang marangyang disenyo nito sa gitna ng aming salas. Malaki ang aming salas nakabase sa disensyo noong unang panahon sa Europa.

Ang gumawa at nag-disenyo ng aming bahay ay isang arkitekto mula sa Italya. Gusto ni Papa na nalalaman ng iba na hindi lang kami basta mayaman. Na kami ang nakakaangat sa buong Pilipinas.

Our house was a semblance of an ancient Roman homes, intricate patterns and beautifully painted walls. It screamed opulence and grandeur. The humongous chandelier on the center of the room lit up the whole place as the paintings of different Colombian artists were placed on the wall too.

We have multiple rooms, inner courtyards and spacious swimming pools. We also have a Mexican cellar which is intended to be a wine cellar. I know better that that wine cellar is more than the place where my father collects his wine, it's the punishment place, the place where traitors meet their death.

Hindi pa ako nakakapunta roon at wala akong planong pumunta. Isa 'yon sa mga ugali kong sinusuka ni Papa. Wala akong sikmura para sa gawain ng aming pamilya at kahit kailan ay hindi ako magiging katulad ni Gustave.

Hindi gusto ni Papa ang pagiging mahina. Mahinang boses. Malamyos na wika o kahit ano pa man ang tawag mo diyan, hindi lambing ang katumbas niyan para sa kanila ni Gustave: isang kahinaan.

"I can't hear you, Cherry." Gumalaw ang upuan ng aking ina. Naglalaro sa aking isip ang kanyang mukhang nakiki-simpatiya sa akin, gustong lumapit pero hindi nito magawa dahil isa iyong kahinaan.

"Cherry, I can't hear you. Paulit-ulit na lang tayo sa bagay na 'to." Wala ng pasensya sa boses ni Papa, noong bata pa ako ay kaya pa niyang hindi pansinin ang mga galaw kong pang-mahina.