Vincent

Call

I made my way quickly to the room, going to the bed, and dialing my father's number.

It rang and rang and he didn't pick up. I rolled my eyes as the operator started her instructions on how to record a voicemail.

I ended the call.

Stupid ass couldn't fucking answer the goddamn phone. I could be dying.

I wasn't but I could be and he wouldn't answer.

My fingers tapped my brother's face, calling him.

After two rings he picked up.

"Yeah?" He breathed into the phone, all heavy and out of breath.

"Why do you sound like that?" I questioned, curious.

He took a deep breath on the other end, "oh, shit," he groaned.

The realization came quickly.

I gasped in horror, dramatically yelping.

"Freddie!" I screamed.

Oh. My. Fucking God.

"Are you having sex?"

"No, I'm gettin' some top," he huffed, "you're ruining it. What did you want?"

"Tell Micheal to answer his phone," I ordered.

"Don't call him that, give him respect- fuck!" I grimaced, feeling like I could throw up.

"Oh, my God, you're disgusting!" I screeched, "just tell him!" I yelped before I ended the call, not wanting to hear that anymore.

Ew, ew, ew, EW!

God, my ears need to be bleached. I think I'm going to be sick. Absolutely fucking nasty!

EW.

Twenty minutes passed. I tried my father two more times but I got nothing. It just kept ringing until it went to voicemail. It aggravated me. I was utterly frustrated with the way they were treating me.

I mean, at least Freddie answered my call, even if he was with some whore. It was the thought that counted. At least family mattered to him.

After the third time of me trying him, I left a passive-aggressive voicemail, asking him about my insurance. I ended it with "no need to call me back, just text me."

I was frustrated and hurt.

I even tried his second cell phone number and again: nothing.

I tossed my phone to the other side of the bed before I laid down. I was faced with the issue of nothing to do, again. It made me more frustrated.

I wanted to cry. And I wasn't even much of a crier.

Now, I knew moping around wouldn't do anything but I didn't know what else to do. I had no plans. I could find Dante or Luca and hang out with them?

It beats laying here, all sad and shit. I can't expect to make new friends if I didn't put any effort in. I mean, back home, I had friends. I wasn't some sad loser that wasn't liked. I was popular.

Then again, most of my friends stemmed from my dad's partners, friends, and family. It was like wives who were friends so their husbands hung out as well.

As I got out of bed, I was faced with another problem: I didn't know where they were. And I could go and walk around this place until I found them but that would waste so much time and maybe if I knew the place a little better, I would, but I didn't so I decided to go ask the one person who would know.