Chapter 2 - Part 1

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The Real World


Romero

Now that he was eighteen, Romero could be a doorman at his uncles' bar. He knew they expected him to be there for good, eventually graduating into working inside when he turned twenty-one, but that wasn't in his plans. He'd let them down easy when the time came, but for now, he'd enjoy the dancers and waitresses so easily accessible to him.

After high school, he continued to work out, maintaining the physique needed to man the door for unruly drunks who wanted in or needed to be thrown out. He'd been working there all summer.

Romero enjoyed the job. It gave him the experience he needed for what he was planning. While his friends would all be in college, he was doing his own prerequisite work. For years, he'd thought about possibly becoming a cop then making detective like the ones he saw in movies and on television. But he decided not to go that route. He hated being on a schedule. That was the same reason he decided college wasn't for him. Unlike Angel and Eric, he barely managed to stay eligible to play football during high school. It wasn't that the classes were too hard for him. He just never really cared enough to pull top grades.

He'd already knocked out the joke of a test he needed to be licensed as a security guard. Not that his uncles required it, it was just step one of the goals he'd set for himself-just like the sparring and grappling he'd taken up practicing for over a year now with some of the guys at the gym who did mixed martial arts.

Romero walked into the front room. He could hear Manny in the kitchen with Aida. "I put four meats in Max's sandwich, sugar." Aida said. "How many do you want in yours?"

"How 'bout I put my meat in you." Manny said, making loud kissing noises, and Romero knew his uncle was attacking his girlfriend in the kitchen again.

Aida screeched then laughed loudly. Romero frowned. He was seriously going to have to get his own place. "Hey! I could hear you in here!"

"Well cover your ears 'cause it's about to get louder."

He heard Aida laugh then snort. Romero laughed. Sick bastard. He sat down on the sofa and grabbed the remote. "You want me to fix you a sandwich, Moe?" Aida asked.

"Nah, I'm good. Thanks."

Max walked out of the hallway with a newspaper under his arm. "I have the squirts."

Romero didn't even look at him, just shook his head, staring at the television. "I need my own place now," he muttered.

"What was that?"

"Nothing."

His uncle walked toward the kitchen. "Don't we have medicine for the shits?"

Romero tried concentrating on the reality show on criminal investigations. But his uncles, as usual, were too loud.

"It's in the bathroom," Manny said.

"No it's not. I didn't see it."

"It's right there in the cabinet. I had the shits the other night too. I took some."

"I'm telling you it's not there."

Romero turned off the television and headed back to his room, trying to ignore his uncles, who were still arguing about the shit medicine on their way to the restroom. Manny walked in first. "Holy mother of fuck!"

"I told you I'm sick! What did you expect, roses?"

"Well, can you open a ga-damn window for the love of Christ!"

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