Fire and Ice (First Book of the "Fire and Ice" Series)

CH.1: One rainy day

I heard this from her, as of course I wasn't still born when they married and such; yet, as soon as I could understand what was going on around me, I remembered a father who wasn't nice one tiny bit. He appeared to be so at first and, when I was a very young kid, I almost fell for it. Almost. That was the key word, because it took very little to disrupt the appearance and make his mask break in pieces. And it never was pleasant one fucking bit.

Nevertheless, my mom tried to make it work mostly for my sake, a moment thinking I would need him, too, but when she realized she couldn't take it anymore and that I couldn't take it anymore, not to mention a couple of episodes that clearly spoke volumes regarding his controlling and violent tendencies, she divorced him at once and decided to move across our big country, to the opposite side of the Pacific coast: the Atlantic coast. Mom declared that placing between us and that control-vicious-freak I had for father thousands of miles was the solution, and she had been right. If we stayed in California, he would have bothered us. But once we moved that far away and showed how amazingly we were doing without him, we never heard from him, for he was still licking his wounded and pathetic male ego.

It all happened over ten years ago and since then I did not hear from my father not even once. I think I was dead for him and fine by him, because I sure didn't need him. I have no doubts he didn't take the divorce well, seeing it as an outrageous act of insubordination and humiliation in his eyes, an unforgivable betrayal. Well, he could think whatever he wanted and just suck it up, for all I cared, as I didn't give a damn about him. My mom and I were incredibly happy and in peace without him, and she had finally the chance to become a successful lawyer. She was a smartass and I admired her for the way she handled her career so focused and determined, sharpening her skills more and more.

First, we moved to Boston, because her sister, aunt Madelaine, lived there and, to be honest, I liked Boston; well, I had moments in which I cursed out loud the freezing cold winters, especially when once I slipped on a frozen walking path and smacked my ass on it, and the lack of warm and sandy beaches, but I sucked it up and decided to adapt. I owned it to my mother and hey, it's not possible to get everything from life, right? Unfortunately, I always considered that very much wrong. Hell, I always wanted to get anything I wanted, but not in the sense to have it served on a plate of gold, for I definitely wasn't a spoilt brat, not in the least. I worked my sexy ass off for what I wanted, doing to my best to get it and have it mine. However, this didn't concern our moving to Boston or New York, as there are things in life, I admit, being way beyond me.

We then moved to New York after mom received an amazing promotion and, after that, she became the badass boss of an important and big office of lawyers. I was so very much proud of her that I could shout it out loud right then, right there.

A soft chuckle left my mouth at the thought of it and she looked at me from the driver side of the car, with an amused smile. Her eyes were gorgeous and shining like ink black pearls. Just like mine. Yeah, I took pretty much everything after her and I was freaking grateful. Apparently, even my genes had refused to take after my biological father.

"What's so funny, Travis?" She asked as she concentrated her eyes back to the road in front of us.

I shrugged my shoulders and she did the same, having seen it with the corner of her eyes, both of us softly chuckling. Then I checked my reflection in the mirror, hoping my hair and my thin touch of eyes makeup were still perfect.

I studied my face in the mirror and nodded satisfied. Yeah, the rain had not messed them up. My bleached silver-white hair perfectly cascaded short on one side of my forehead to plunge longer on the other. My thin touch of black eye liner and smoked eyeshadow were flawless and emphasized the wicked smirk of my pitch-black eyes. Yeah hell, of course: eyeliner and eyeshadow. People got a problem with that? Sometimes yes, but I couldn't give a flying fuck. If people thought that my being gay had anything to do with that, they were highly mistaken, for I would wear it anyway. Glam all the way and as Mick Mars from Motley Crue once said, only real men could wear makeup.