Zac’s smirk vanishes as I land another, and then we hear, “Boys, lunch is ready!”
Mom’s voice wafts toward us from the stone steps leading up to the house, and Zac grins. “To be continued.”
“I’ll finish you, and you know it.”
I notice my brother Nico some way up the beach, alone as always, and I jerk my thumb toward the terrace.
“Last one home must kiss Frankie Pratt.”
“Fuck that.”
Zac attempts to power past me, but we both know I’m the faster runner. However, Zac is a cunning one and will attempt to win another way.
I laugh to myself because Francesca Pratt has the hots for Zac and is the daughter of one of my father’s guards. She’s unattractive and spoiled, believing she is God’s gift to men and has a huge crush on Zachariah. He is my best friend and the child of my father’s enforcer, Eduardo Silver. We’ve been closelike brothers since I could talk and are rarely away from one another’s side.
I easily sprint along the beach, his attempts to catch up with me easy to avoid, and as I stumble up the steps, my mom’s amusement is obvious as she hands me a towel with a loving smile.
“You win again, Joseph.”
“I will always win, Mom.”
I remember how sad her smile was that day, which was not unusual for Mom. She never said anything, but it was part of her soul. A burden she carried around with her and attempted to disguise from us. But I caught her empty expression when she gazed at us sometimes. The way she bit her lip when our father issued punishments because of the slightest misdemeanors. She tried to protect us from this life, but she was resigned to the fact that it was never going to happen.
“I hate you.”
Zac stumbles onto the terrace, and Mom hands him a towel with a grin. “I take it you are referring to my son and not me, Zachariah.”
He blushes a deep red and mumbles, “I’m sorry, ma’am. I was referring to Joe, but please don’t tell my father.”
Once again, a fleeting expression of sadness reflects in her smile, and she shakes her head. “Of course not. Go and enjoy your lunch. I instructed the chef to prepare your favorite.”
It always struck me how she held a soft spot for Zac. She always treated him like her fifth son, and it never bothered me at all. We were all he had outside of his father, and I suppose it was the kindness in Mom that reached out to the motherless child who lived in our home.
* * *
I jump,the present returning and my happiness fading back to a time when I didn’t realize how painful life can be.
An old movie is on the screen, replacing the game, and I glance at the clock on the side. 2 am.
Two hours tonight. I must have been tired.
I rake my fingers through my hair, slightly longer than my brother’s, reminding me I always did prefer to be different to them.
It’s still evening in New York; perhaps I should call Mom. It’s been a while, and she is the only woman who is ever concerned about me.
“Joseph.”
She answers immediately, and her familiar warmth reaches out across the Atlantic Ocean.
“How are you, Mom?”
“I’m good, thanks. More importantly, how are you?”
“I’m good.”
Lying has always come easily to me, especially when it concerns her. I never let on how fucked up I am because anything that causes her worry is like a knife in my heart.
“And your guest? I hope that you are treating her right?”
