Facade

10 || diabla

~ Gabriel ~

I'm a guy with a hatred for a lot of things.

I hate filth, which is ironic since the shit I do isn't exactly clean. It mainly entails the dirt of other people but still, I gotta deal with it.

I hate the taste of alcohol and the feeling of being high. I like to be alert which is why I don't smoke weed, I don't take what I sell and I don't drink.

I smoke straight nicotine.

I prefer the burning in my lungs to the deterioration of my brain.

I hate really loud music. It's just unnecessary.

I hate crowds, people really.

Yet, despite all this hatred, I'm leaning on a wall in a corner of this dirty ass church with a solo cup in my hand filled with a golden brown liquid, music so loud that I feel the vibrations from the floor through my body while surrounded by a sea of teens, most too fucked up to see straight.

The cherry on top would be that all of them are masked or dressed up like complete and utter morons.

The most effort I put into my appearance was putting on a black button down and black jeans to go. The black air forces on my feet should be scary enough.

Colorful lights are being projected from the upper level of the church, bouncing around off of everywhere and everyone, giving me a headache.

Adding insult to injury, the stupid fucking glow sticks that almost everyone is wearing doesn't help.

Now, you might be wondering, "Well Gabriel, if you hate every single thing around you, why the hell are you here then?"

Truthfully? I have no fucking idea.

I don't know what got me to come to this stupid, lame ass party.

Cause it's most certainly wasn't the curly headed girl in a silk red dress dancing in the center of the room as if she's having the time of her goddamn life.

I didn't come here for her.

At least that's what I'm gonna keep telling myself.

I'm supposed to be up in the Heights trying to kiss some Colombian ass.

See, the Colombian Cartel is one of Imperio's most powerful connections. Deals have been going on for months trying to combine them with our Mexican forces to make the world's most powerful empire.

My father's men have been trying to gain more control on the West Side, so ordered from our new Colombian friends, and I agreed to help.

Then, all of the sudden, I'm telling these same guys that I'm gonna come to this party to get product out instead of doing something that can give my men, my father, me, the exact power that we've worked for years to gain.

His men looked at me weird, knowing that I don't go to high school shit like this, but I insisted that kids here would be feening to get their hands on something to make the night worth their while.

Lying my ass off about how it would be good to also increase sales to appease our South American friends.

I lie about most of my personal business to them since they report my progress to my father while he serves time. But mostly, they run everything by me while I act as boss in place of my father's absence.

Because of that, they didn't question my motives.

Instead, they gave me the shit I needed and didn't say another word about it.