Their Tale

Nader

Angels POV

The ride down to the restaurant is filled with anxious shifts as I obsessed over the cufflinks on my wrists. It had barely been a month, and separating myself from my loves, still felt like a not that went tighter with greater distance. Their flushed skin, bare of clothing but not of my marks, had filled the bed I had left to make it to this meeting.

My phone had been as busy as a call center since the night of the museum. Truth is, the moment I had stepped out with both Celeste and Evita, something of a mystery in me had grown. It had been easy enough to hide, but this meeting could split the stitches of the wound I had been trying to heal. The hypocrisy I carry eats at me like acid through every vein in my body, each time their eyes look at mine before baring their vulnerability. I just, I need some things to stay the same. If not the walls I called home, then the surname I call my own.

Andrew knew this far better than anyone else in my life. Most like because he was one of the only people who knew more for more than a career or a surname. A friend found in a sea of arrogance that was the males we had grown around and a familiar in scenes of power and submission.

Sitting in the café, I order a coffee, going through work which accumulated during my stay in rehab. As I slide through emails, Andrews's tall figure takes over the attention of the room. There was a gift to being an absolute jackass if you had a charming smile, something he had gotten down, "As I breathe, the devil does too." He cheers as I stand before we pull each other in a hug, patting his back before we settle back into our seats.

Dirty blond hair dissolved, giving his looks more appeal, along with blue eyes that had women ready to trip over him. Andrew's looks were something to behold. He knew this, but beyond it was the mind of a genius who could talk and walk his way in and out of every business meeting he entered.

I was not a business meeting, and we were not fucking, so all that went out the window when it came to him trying to convince me of anything, especially when I had my conclusion, "So Lucy, how are you doing?" His voice was as sarcastic as ever, but in reality, that was just his way. His attitude and combined with the name Lucy, short for Lucifer, you can guess how that nickname came to be, "I'm good." 

The answer is given an almost offended, as he shakes his head with a humorless chuckle, "I thought you were dying when I found out. Then you go to rehab and its weeks of silence and now you are good." The guilt sits on my chest as the weight of the events of my life and the way it affected more than the three bodies that had woken up together this morning. Sitting straighter, looking over the cafe, I can not help but wish for simplicity. Being a simple man, with simple pleasures and even simpler loves.

"The world thinks dominants are these impenetrable forces of composure and control. It didn't make me any less human, not when I thought I would die, not when Celeste was saying goodbyes."

It was hard getting the words out, and it seemed Andrew took them in with the same pain. The simple idea of what we had endured was a craze in the middle of a daytime routine. With fallen brows and a defeated sigh, he looks to me with comfort. "There are worlds we carry on our shoulders. It does not make them any less heavy or burdensome." Shaking my head, I look at the cup of coffee before me. Its small cup and corporate recipe bitter on my lounge when I think of the perfect cup of coffee. On a counter surrounded by laughter.

"It's not the burden of the world I carry that I can't handle. It's the lies I'm telling." The aura of the space between us changes in seconds as us, knowing the truth about this meeting. His demeanor changes almost immediately, and a dull look of disappearing washes over him before he leans his arms on the table, "You are the successor to it all, why not own it?"

Putting my cup down, I speak in a monotone, "Because I will not own anything from those who could not even care for me. They built the world they wanted to live in without me, so no, and it will continue being so." Frustrated at my words, he brings himself closer, "Just speak to them. Your taking over is the best thing for you and the company. I mean, you have what it takes, any help would like I will be right by your side."

Keeping my calm through the heat that builds in me from this topic, I feel the blood in my clenched fist begins to strain its muscles, "I'm a fucking doctor." Cutting me off Andrew leans agent his chair with an unamused expression "You know as well as I do that, Julio taught you more than that piano." Hearing him use the memory of my father. The bitter-sweet memories I had shared in confidence made me hit my hand on the table without thought.

The tables beside us catch the moment with wide eyes but go back to their business when place my hand on my lap "He also taught me that family drives us and that duty is a fucking responsibility. I have mine now, not connected to the Macias or the Nader's. I have my own drive and it is not to be the hidden heir to a man who could not find another bastard son to parade around."  I almost scream, frustrated by what I thought I made clear to him long before.

A few years ago, I discovered that my birth parents were not the ones who had raised me for the last twenty years. My surname was not Macias but Nader. Julio and Maria Macias had been trusted with raising and nurturing the next heir to a dynasty he knew nothing of. Most likely why money, or in their case excellence, had been a crucial necessity to aim for affection and appreciation.

I was a product of a family with power, influence and, most of all enemies. Something they no longer needed to be concerned about considering the allies they had aligned with over the years they had missed my life.

When I found this all out, I gracefully told them to fuck off, and since then I have been hassled to reconsider. They seemed to know more about me than I had expected but with the influence, they carry with their name and their more than shadow-like presence it was not a mission. The Nader name is influenced by spoken and written down.

Andrews's position in the company came as a result of the allies they had dined with over the years, more so his father. He was built for this. The corporate life he believed was filled with sharks he spears, and right now, I was the one shark that had felt like a damn whale.

Clenching my teeth to keep my frustration of the lies, deception, and overall terror that was this predicament. I go on to leave some money for my drink on the table, "Andrew I will not take the position regardless of what they insist. My parents died in a car crash years ago, they were not Nader's. They were Macias." 

His face drops at my words, knowing how much I loved the people who raised me as their own. Even if they were not perfect, or consistent they were known, present and loved me enough to stay. Before he speaks I continue with my expression to him as pained as the one given to me, "You are my brother and I don't want to lose that relationship but keep involved yourself in this and I won't second guess walking away."

Shocked at my statement, he drops his shoulders and runs his hands through his hair when he nods. The expression on his face lets me know that I won't have to speak about it again, "I am not here to be their solicitor; I am your last civil approach. They are planning something; they are not speaking about it but the plans being made are telling that they believe in their triumph." It's hard to miss the warning that came from his words, and all in the hurricane of thoughts, the two women in the eye of the storm centre my worry.