For What It's Worth

CHAPTER TWO; THE GENESIS OF THE FEUD

He leaned beside the window dressed only in black pyjamas pants, his torso glistening with sweat and his gaze fixed at the spot his brother and father had just disappeared into the detached bungalow adjacent to the garage. Running a hand lightly through his ruffled hair, he turned to the direction of the door as a maid dressed in the conventional black pleated gown with white Peter Pan collar walked in.

"Good morning, young master" she greeted and quickly ducked to hide the blush in her cheeks as though having Marcelo's bare body in her line of sight was a temptation, that was not far from the truth still. Marcelo was aware of his effect on the poor maid, the other female servants were not any different even the slightly older ones. Shrugging with indifference, he stood hands akimbo as he began to dish out orders,

“When last did you change the bed sheets?" He asked

"There...."

"Never mind" he waved his hand interrupting her sharply, " I want the blue one this night, I think the curtains stink too, that thing can kill any bird that perches close enough….air my shirts after pressing them you didn't do that the last time….polish the black loafers as well, they should be here before 12 noon......" on and on, he kept rapping out orders stopping only when the maid threw a panicky glance in his direction.

"Should I go over it?" he asked meeting her gaze calmly. Despite wearing a serene expression his voice was dispassionate and slightly hoarse as though he had just woken from sleep.

"No, I understood everything you said perfectly" she replied more fearfully than shyly.

"Fine, tell Lilian I won't come down for breakfast. She should bring it upstairs" the maid nodded and walked briskly out of the room her small frame swaying, as she shut the door behind her.

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Inside the cell with nothing but filigreed grille for a door and a small window high up at one end barely illuminating the room, motor oil spots, dried smelly blood on the rough concrete floor, a wooden table on which the different weapons of t*****e were arranged according to their sizes and a rather small metal chair on which Brad sat weakly. His hands were tied behind the chair and his legs to that of the chair while a long rope with a noose at one end suspended above him.

His face was battered almost beyond recognition, now and then a fly would sit on the sore on his swollen eyelids and he would blink weakly to swat it off, the pain spreading across his face. His labored breathing was the only sounds that filled the room, occasionally the pain from the wheal on his wrists shot up his arms each time he moved slightly.

The door burst open as Rodriguez barged in and stopped before him, grabbing his face tightly between his palm he threw a blinding punch across the bloodied mass of flesh, wiped the back of his hand on Brad's shirt and advanced towards the wooden table, inspecting the tools as he spoke,

"Before venturing into a business especially partnerships, relationship or whatever, there are things that are put into consideration, rules that must be made, unbending ones, principles to be upheld: loyalty, trust, honesty, name them, but...", he eyed him impatiently, picked up a chainsaw and traced its dimensions before continuing,

“Loyalty surpasses them all and that is what you disrespected, Brad" crouching beside him, he slipped his hand between his greasy palm, squeezing it until he drew a muffled grunt from him before stopping.

In a low irritated tone that still maintained the impatience and despise, he whispered,

"All of this can end right now if you tell me, I'll still find him if you choose to die with his identity unrevealed and all of your loyalty will just be foolishness"

Brad shot an unfazed look in his direction and spat the other away, sniggering mockingly as he looked away. Infuriated but still keeping his calm, Rodriguez patted his back; cast a provoked glance towards the door before rising to his feet.

"My father admired you, you were fearfully skilled at your duty, that's why I assigned you to train my sons when they came of age, I thought I could trust you"

The sounds of metal clinking as he decided which of them to use pierced the silence, settling on one. He drew in a sharp breath and swiveled, approaching him with steady calculated steps, a mallet gripped firmly in one hand.

"You are a hard nut to c***k but not the first" and to the tall brawny man at the door with a g*n across his chest, “send for Marcelo".

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Back in her room, in gray wide-necked wool sweater and blue denim bum short Ava sat cross-legged by her bed with her laptop opened sitting on the floor before her. Autumn began a fortnight ago as well as the emails that were jam-packed in her PC, most of the emails were from Quora; information on psychology, beauty tips and the usual junk that follows. Only five emails had addresses from colleges she had applied to seeking to major in arts, three rejected her with the usual politeness while out of the two that tendered their acceptance she found only the one that invited her for an interview at the end of autumn ccommodating for her.

A knock on the door interrupted her thoughts, without looking in its direction she responded barely audibly,

"Come in"

Noah stepped in and held the door behind him.

"Are those mails from the colleges you applied to?", he asked as he plopped down on the edge of her bed and clasped his hands.

"Yeah, I didn't think they would respond that quickly so I didn't bother checking early, but now my system's slow and I think it's the many notifications" she stole a glance at him before punching away on her laptop in the brief silence that followed.

“Do you think he will ever stop?" She was asking about their father

"Ever stop asking you to give an account of what you do?, I don't think so" he chuckled before adding as an afterthought," you should have asked the maid to pack your breakfast for you after you left"

“I lost my appetite" she replied without hesitation.

"Mum has been sick worried about you since Tuesday" he patted her head gently and rose from the bed. The gray line between two opposite qualities never existed in Noah's world, he was sweet or annoying, mischievous or not, angry or happy. While growing up, Noah found immense joy in using Ava as a test subject for his annoying pranks, always laughing till he was breathless and not failing to taunt her slow wittedness.

"Tooth fairies aren't real" he had said one rainy afternoon as Ava ran up to the porch drenched in her ankle length magenta satin gown, grasping the faulty zipper of her anorak and her milk teeth in her hand.

"You're lying" she spat defiantly through the gap where her upper incisors had come loose.

"Mum put the money you found last time, I saw when she slipped in" he said obviously pleased as though he had solved a decade old murder mystery case.

"I should have felt when she lifted my head off my pillow if so" she snapped back.

His thin lips spread into a teasing smile, "how would you know when you are always almost on the floor half an hour into your sleep?" Ava had no reply to that so she remained quiet sulking as she watched him wallow in his victory once again, on other occasions she would burst into tears purposefully wailing loudly until her mother addressed the issue but that would only expand the scope of his mischiefs.