| 36, 21, 28, 25, 32, 48; Gio Amauri CD | |
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| Tweet Topic Started: Apr 10 2017, 09:48 PM (156 Views) | |
| G. Amauri | Apr 10 2017, 09:48 PM Post #1 |
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I swear if I had a dollar for every reaction I get when I tell friends from home that I moved up North… Detroit, Michigan to be precise. The weak economy and abandoned neighborhoods gave the impression that I bought the house next to the blind dude from the movie, “Don’t Breathe.” As a matter of fact, it’s not like that at all. I found an apartment in Royal Oaks, which is about a twenty minute drive from downtown Detroit. Young families and college graduates invaded this area. A call from RISE Management brought me to Michigan. Time was no longer on my side. If I wanted to make moves, it was now or never. No major commitments were left back home in Florida, except a dozen children… That I worked with. The ones that were old enough understood, and even encouraged me to “make my dreams come true.” Out of all of them, I'll be missing Matthew the most. Through the seven year old “Daredevil,” as I called him, I met his mother, Serenity Becker. A former wrestler, Ms. Becker gave me valuable advice and set me up with one of the best training schools in the Central Florida region. She was grateful that I helped Matthew feel comfortable with his limited sight, by teaching him how to do everyday tasks and activities on his own. He was at that stage where he wanted to gain some independence and not feel incompetent or an inconvenience to anyone around him. “You've done a lot for me, Gio. It's your turn to do something for yourself.” Those words, though simple and innocent, meant more than he may have realized. Besides not having anything to lose, there was also something pushing me out of here. Mallory. - Location: Kissimmee, Florida A silver Honda Accord pulls into a driveway in a suburban neighborhood lined with palm trees at around two in the afternoon. On the property, there's a white one story Spanish style home with curved copper red concrete tiles on the roof. The nearby houses had a similar layout, with the pastel colors of the exterior distinguishing them from one another. After shutting the engine off, Gio opens the door and steps out of the vehicle. He shuts the door behind him as quietly as possible, then goes to inspect the red Nissan Maxima parked beside his car. Based on the owner’s work schedule, the Nissan usually wasn't seen for another four hours. He continues to inspect the area, checking for anything else that may be unusual. He walks over to the side of the house, not finding any signs of foul play. There’s salsa music blasting from inside the house, which piques his curiosity to find out what’s going on inside. The owner of the Nissan, also his girlfriend, held a stable work schedule as an Assistant Manager at a bank downtown. Between traffic and driving distance, having lunch at home wasn’t convenient for her. Gio’s schedule on the other hand, was determined by appointment slots being filled by his students. Though technically, patients, he didn’t like referring them as such. Maintaining his guard, he quietly takes out his house key and slowly unlocks the side door. He enters his home through the kitchen, finding two fully opened Chinese takeout boxes containing shrimp fried rice and vegetable lo mein looking to have been halfway consumed. He picks up one of the boxes, feeling the warmth on the palm of his right hand. The song he initially heard comes to an end. He stays still, waiting for the next track to come on, which starts off with the vocalist describing the words “envy” and “hate,” right before the bachata beat takes off. Envy is a sign of admiration Hate, is the epitome of destruction “Odio” by Romeo Santos featuring Drake plays in the background, as the young man steps out of the kitchen. He makes a right turn in the direction of the bedrooms, careful in his step as he avoids any squeaky floorboards. Inches away from the master bedroom, he tugs his pant pocket, checking for his Swiss Army knife. He peeks through the half open door, shaking his head at the sight in front of him. “The fuck?” he says under his breath. Gio pushes the door open, barging in the room. He sees a pudgy man in a white tee mounted on his bed facing the headboard. There’s a pair of toned legs rubbing against the sides of the strange man, legs he recognized (thanks to the flower tattoo on the ankle.) The music drowns out any sounds made by Gio. He lunges forward, pulling the man by the shirt. He then throws him on the floor, ignoring the yelling and screaming from the woman with the ankle tattoo. “OH MY GOD, GIO! Calm the fuck down!” the woman commands. His movements were too quick for him to realize he had aggressively snatched up a woman built like Bartolo Colon, same haircut and all. Enraged and embarrassed, he looks at the “stud” in disgust as he takes notice of the duck sauce stain on her shirt. He then stares at the half naked woman on his bed before asking the million dollar question. “The fuck is this, Mal? Are you serious? How…” he looks at the stud again, then at Mallory. “HOW?!” “She completely gets me. We're soulmates.” The side piece blows a kiss at Mallory. Gio paces back and forth, running a hand through his hair. He stops in front of the dresser, and with a swift motion, he knocks over an assortment of perfumes and lotions belonging to the woman he caught being unfaithful. He sees both women through the mirror, looking afraid and uncertain of what he’ll do next. Mallory makes eye contact with Gio for a quick second before proceeding to put her clothes back on. He turns around to face them, and with his index finger raised he says, “I want you out of here in twenty minutes. Pack your shit and get the fuck out.” “...But Gio,” Mallory protests, pouting her bottom lip. “You need me to help?” he asks, walking over to the closet. He pulls out several articles of clothing from the closet, throwing them on the floor. Mallory slips her shoes on, wiping the tears from her eyes. Gio looks at her with an annoyed expression, throwing out bins filled with items belonging to his now ex-girlfriend. The stud picks up as many articles of clothing from the floor before leaving the room and out of the house through the front door. “Women, huh? You kept that shit under wraps rather well.” “I’m sick of pretending. Sick of worrying what my family and friends will say…” she says, her voice trailing off, as she looks down, unable to maintain eye contact with him. “I just want to be happy.” “And you used me as a cover up? What was your plan? Fake it until you make it? Nah, fuck it. Don’t answer any of that. I did nothing but treat you well, and this is what I get?” he says, kicking out her shoe collection from the closet floor. He then continues, “go on, be happy. Maybe you can stop fucking people over in the process.” “I’m...sor..r…,” Mallory says, sobbing once again. Gio shoots her a dirty look before walking out of the master bedroom. He heads back into the kitchen, pulling a chair to sit on. There’s several fortune cookies scattered throughout the round dining table. He picks one up, removing the wrapper and pulls out the small slip containing the fortune. “Good work, good life, good love, good-bye oppression,” the fortune reads. “Heh,” he says, scoffing. |
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