Teenage Troubles (Prequel for Teenage Baby)

Chapter 12 | The captors

Chapter 12 | The captors

Breakfast for the Alains reflected their family detachment. Three males silently sat there, one a slave of society, the second constantly pissed and willing to punch, and the youngest with nothing on his mind right now because the food was distractingly delicious.

Dominic tried not to look at the head of the table where his mom used to sit. He never made it apparent but looking at the places that reminded him of her gave him flashbacks and anxiety—which of course wasn't to be actually associated with him because tough boys like Dominic and anxiety couldn't go together.

"You been going anywhere at night, Dominic?"

Now Dominic wished the silence had persisted. He didn't take his eyes off the plate, kept chewing like he hadn't heard a thing. Three taps. Probably his dad's fork knocking expectantly against the table.

Dominic finally answered with a sigh, "No."

George snorted. "Right. So you haven't been going to that garage? You know, where pathetic teens go to snort cocaine and drink cheap booze? And, of course, start punching each other like idiots. That's definitely somewhere I'd like people saying my son goes to."

"Looks like you know that place well. You been going there behind my back?"

George let out a long sigh. After a lifetime of knowing him, he'd come to the conclusion that it was hard to break Dom's habits. Harder to make him admit. "Dominic, son, I'm a business man. I can't have people talking shit about my son. Everyone already says you're an angry bull. You want them calling you a filthy addict too?"

Dominic finally caught his father in the eyes. He dropped his fork and leant back, straightening his shoulders. "I don't care about what people say."

"What people say affects my reputation. Reputation affects my business. The clothes you're wearing and the food you're eating are from my money."

"How significant. And yeah, I've been going there. And I won't stop."

"Because that's healthy."

Dom laughed, shallow and mocking. "Like worshipping money is any better."

George slammed a hand down on the table. Everything on top quivered for a moment and Lou's cup was almost knocked down. Dom eyed his brother and trapped a breath in his lungs.

"Piece of shit." George's voice started rising, bordering at Lou's discomfort level which Dom knew well. "I said stop going to that place and that's what you're gonna do."

Dom sighed. "Don't yell like that, Lou's here."

"So what? I don't care if Lou's here or not, all I care about is that my dumbass of a son is ruining my reputation! You're gonna be eighteen soon and you act like a bratty eight-year-old!"

"I said, stop yelling," Dom repeated through gritted teeth. "Lou hates it. And if he hates it, it means you better not do it in front of him."

George shook his head to himself and sighed loudly. He knew that Dom was harder than brick. "What did I do to deserve a son like you." He brought out a pipe and started smoking because Dom gave him headaches. Cigarettes were out of his league.

Dom watched the end of the pipe spurt out tufts of smoke that clustered by Lou's face. Lou narrowed his eyes distastefully then he coughed and tried turning away.

"Don't smoke in Lou's face like that."

George's expression froze. He gazed at Dom through the edge of his eyes, lips parted enough for Dom to see the pipe hanging precariously between his upper and lower rows of teeth.