This House Is Vegas

2010-05-27T23:31:00.008-07:00

~Prompts~

001.	Beginnings.	002.	Ends.	003.	Broken.	004.	Lost.	005.	Door.
006.	Choice.	007.	Enemies.	008.	Friends.	009.	Light.	010.	Dark.
011.	Betrayal.	012.	Forgiveness.	013.	Passion.	014.	Lovers.	015.	Hatred.
016.	Death.	017.	Conspire.	018.	Colorless.	019.	Past.	020.	Regret.
021.	Greed.	022.	Love.	023.	Sin.	024.	Secret.	025.	Strangers.
026.	Fragile.	027.	Solitude.	028.	Garden.	029.	Legacy.	030.	Angel.
031.	Sunrise.	032.	Sunset.	033.	Honor.	034.	Imperfection.	035.	Sixth Sense.
036.	Smell.	037.	Sound.	038.	Touch.	039.	Taste.	040.	Sight.
041.	Sanctuary.	042.	Deception.	043.	Memory.	044.	Slave.	045.	Enigma.
046.	Dawn.	047.	Paranormal.	048.	Chaos.	049.	Ghost.	050.	Paranoia.

~Chronology~

Prompt 1 -- Beginnings

2010-05-24T09:10:00.002-07:00

Title: This House Is Vegas
Genre: Drama
Characters: Carmena, Vinicio, Chloe
Prompt: 1 ~ Beginnings
Word Count: Approx. 765
Rating: PG (just in case)
Type: Series
Summary: Every end is a new beginning.
Warnings: Kind of an unsatisfying ending

"Grandma!" At the sound of Chloe's delighted squeal, Carmena opened her arms and allowed her granddaughter to run into them. "Grandma, Grandpa just took me and Auntie Rachele to see Daddy and Evie, and now he took me to see you! Isn't this the best day ever? I never get to see everyone in one day!"

"Well, you do today, then," Carmena assured her with a quick kiss on the girl's forehead. "I hope you thanked Grandpa for that."

From the base of the porch stairs, Vinicio nodded. "She did."

Carmena met the sight of him with half-forced smile, then turned back to Chloe. She wasn't sure whether or not she wanted a one-on-one conversation with her estranged husband just yet, but she figured that the observation of their interaction would be anything but a benefit to their precocious granddaughter. "Chloe, why don't you go inside and see what Sienna and Melody are up to? They've been asking about you, you know."

She might have expected the girl to argue, but Chloe simply grinned. "Okay!" Kids would be kids, Carmena supposed--and it was a good thing Chloe still had the opportunity to do just that.

As the little girl bounded through the door, Vinicio made his way up the stairs. "You look nice today."

Carmena felt her spine stiffen; she wasn't quite sure why. "Thank you. You're not too shabby yourself--stronger coffee?"

"Nope. Been to a few AA meetings. Rachele and her boyfriend practically had to kidnap me to get me to the first one, but I'll admit that I've been feeling better since I started cutting back."

"Well, I'm glad to hear that," she told him, forgetting her resolve to censor her smiles if she ever found herself conversing with him. "How's Arrigo? I haven't gone to visit him yet."

A dreamy look crossed Vinicio's features. "Honestly? I haven't seen him this happy since you... well, in a very long time. I think Evadne's been really good for him. She puts him at ease, you know? Kind of like how you used to put me at ease."

Used to. Why did that sting? "Well, that's... good."

"What can I say? The poor boy takes after me, and to a greater extent than I'd like to admit." He sighed, his eyes closing as his head slowly inclined downward. "He's stronger than I ever was, though, and for that I'm grateful. Anyway, how's Philippé?"

"Well enough." Fondly, she tossed her head back and grinned. "He got a job teaching math at a nearby middle school. He complains about it all the time, but I think he likes it."

The corners of Vinicio's lips twitched upwards. "He was always good at math."

"He was," Carmena agreed. "Anyway, there's this young lady who keeps calling him up. She really likes him, and he feels the same way, but she's only seventeen, same graduating class as Arrigo, so he's holding off until she comes of age in March. He says they like to think it'll be worth the wait."

"I hope it is. You certainly raised that boy right, Carmena."

There was something in his tone that seemed to imply that he himself hadn't done the same with Arrigo--that she might have done a better job. A few seconds told her that it wouldn't be wise to dwell on it, however; it was water under the bridge at this point, and now matter how bad things had been, at least they were getting better. This was the advantage to rock bottom: the only direction was upward. "You know, I think we could have both done a better job, but talking about it now seems a little pointless. The way things are going now, I'm sure they'll both be just fine--better than we ever were."

"Agreed." Vinicio's hand flew to his pocket and pulled out his keys. "If it's not too much to ask, would you mind watching Chloe for about half an hour or so? I just need to stop by my lawyer's office and sign a few final documents; when I come back, Donatella and I will be officially divorced."

"In that case, I don't mind at all," she replied with a smirk. "I hope that bitch doesn't get a penny."

"Oh, she won't; she would have to actually have a case in order to get anything."

He turned to leave, but stopped at the first stair, retracing his last step back onto the porch. "Carmena, before I go..."

Carmena tilted her head. "Yes, Vinicio?"

"Would you... maybe like to have dinner some time?"

Fin.

Prompt 14 -- Lovers

2010-05-13T02:17:00.002-07:00

Title: This House Is Vegas
Genre: Drama
Characters: Arrigo, Evadne
Prompt: 14 ~ Lovers
Word Count: Approx. 846
Rating: PG (just in case)
Type: Series
Summary: Arrigo sees something different.
Warnings: Mild language

There was something to be said, Arrigo realized as he pushed open the unlocked front door, about people who could look good without even trying. In all his years of knowing Evadne, he had grown accustomed to seeing her much as she was now--plainly dressed, no makeup, just comfortable. Perhaps he had once thought her conservative, but he saw now that he had been wrong.

She didn't dress that way out of some sense of modesty or idealistic traditionalism, or even because of money. She had been somewhat insecure once upon a time, and had kept an inconspicuous appearance as a defense. She had grown up since then, but her style hadn't changed much. She had come to the conclusion that there were certain people that one had to slave in front of a mirror for hours in order to impress--and she had figured out that these people where not the sort worth impressing.

Looking at her now, he was relieved to see that he himself was not of that sort. She could have been wearing a potato sack and he'd still want to look at her. "Hey there, beautiful."

Looking up at him with a slight smile, Evadne rolled her eyes. "I was wondering if I'd be seeing you again."

"What, a kiss like that and I wouldn't come back for more? How dumb do you think I am?"

Evadne laughed. "Do you really want to know the answer to that?"

Fair enough, Arrigo figured as he managed a small grin. "Ouch. Anyway, is Chloe around?"

"She's not, actually," answered Evadne as she rose from the couch and made her way toward him, a fond expression seizing her features. "She's at her very first slumber party over at little Ella Boyd's house. They grow up so fast, don't they?"

They did, and he was missing it all. Not anymore, though--not anymore. "Yeah. Do you think it'll be okay if I pick her up tomorrow morning? Your parents could probably use the break."

She nodded. "That shouldn't be a problem. Thanks for the offer."

"No prob--she's my kid, you know."

Good to see you're growing up--about fucking time, he scolded himself. Hopefully he didn't screw things up any further than he already had; he didn't want Chloe to end up resenting him the way he had resented his own absentee father. Even moreso, he didn't think he could stand the thought of her growing up to be anything like him.

"Arrigo?"

No girl had ever looked upon him with concern before... well, except maybe his mother and sister, but he didn't think they counted. How had he ever found Evadne any less than stunning? Had those wild curls and thick glasses really been so repulsive? Thinking back, he found that they were not. She'd always been radiant; he'd always been blind.

Her frown only deepened. "'Rigo, are you okay?"

"We should date."

Stunned, Evadne stumbled backward, her eyes narrowed in shocked disbelief. "What?"

"I'm serious," he insisted. "I really like you--and not just in an 'I want to get into your pants' sort of way."

She sniffed. "I wasn't aware you knew there were other ways of liking people."

"Yeah, well, I'm a slow learner. And can you blame me? Missing mom. Absent, drunk dad. Add that to having been sexually harassed by a gold-digging stepmother and being a notch away from bipolar, and I think it can be excused."

An amused twitch of Evadne's lips caught his eye. "I didn't think you were the type to beg for pity dates."

"Ah, but a pity date would involve pressure!" he corrected her. "There's none here; after all, I think we both know you could do much better than me."

"Well, that's a given."

He understood--hey, at least he'd tried. "So it's a 'no', then?"

Evadne sighed, her pretty face tilting toward the floor. "It was a joke, asshole. Really, you're the one who could do better, pretty boy. You have done better--multiple times."

She must have meant girls like Amy Patterson, in which case she couldn't have been more wrong. Arrigo shook his head. "Evie, that's not possible."

He leaned forward and brushed his hand against her cheek. Her skin made silk feel like burlap in comparison. "I hope you know how great you are."

"'Rigo..." she moaned his his fingers fell to her shoulder. "You're being weird."

That still wasn't a definite answer. "I just need to know if you like me or not."

Her brows arched, Evadne snickered. "Oh, you stupid, stupid boy. I always liked you, you idiot."

Inside his chest, his heart gave a few extra beats. Perhaps it was trying to thud some lame-ass pop song. "Good, because I'm currently interviewing for the position of girlfriend, and guess who's the prime candidate?"

"Hmm... Angelina Jolie?"

Arrigo chuckled. "Yeah, but she turned me down, so the job's yours if you want it."

Evadne stepped forward, wrapping her arms around him and kissing him on the cheek. "I might take you up on that offer."

NEXT PROMPT:

Prompt 31 -- Sunrise

2010-04-25T17:31:00.003-07:00

Title: This House Is Vegas
Genre: Drama
Characters: Carmena, Arrigo
Prompt: 31 ~ Sunrise
Word Count: Approx. 572
Rating: PG (just in case)
Type: Series
Summary: Carmena makes a suggestion.
Warnings: Obscure use of prompt, sexual references, alcohol references

Carmena did not want to ask. It was one of those things that she didn't want to know, but had to regardless. She might have preferred asking Vinicio, but Rachele had insisted that he was 'out'--which, Carmena had noticed over the past few days, seemed to be her code word for 'drunk out of his mind'--so Arrigo was her only option. She just hoped he didn't mind talking about it. "So... how did the trial go?"

His eyes were of the sort that did not truly settle. They met her own, but seemed to look right past her, as though there was some fascinating sight over her shoulder; she might have been tempted to turn around and look if she hadn't just come from the direction of his gaze. "Okay, I guess."

Carmena nodded; knowing this family's track record, she didn't think it fair to ever expect more than 'okay'. "I hope she gets what's coming to her."

"They don't know for sure yet," he told her, the note of resignation in his voice unfitting of his age. "Probably some light jail time--I mean, let's face it, it's not like I'm some eight-year-old kid who thought he was going to get some candy."

She sniffed. "You were still underage, and she knew it; the law is the law."

"In theory. But the judge doesn't really like me much anyway. I kind of know his daughter."

Carmena blinked. "Oh."

"And his wife."

"...Oh."

Arrigo fiddled with a loose thread near the knee of his jeans. "I'm sorry, Mom."

"Don't be," she assured him with a grimace. "Sometimes things just... happen, I suppose."

The look on his face told her he wasn't convinced, but what was she to do? It would have hardly been appropriate to criticize his promiscuity mere hours after he'd testified against a woman who had made him a victim of statutory rape--even if it turned out that Donatella wasn't the only one who had. "Arrigo..."

He shook his head, slouching forward and massaging his temple. "Don't. I just... I don't know. It's the only thing I'm good at. I should just make it official and become a hustler."

"'Rigo, don't even joke about that!" she scolded, horrified. "You can do whatever you like; you have lots of talents."

"Really? Name one."

Carmena opened her mouth to give her answer, only to realize she had none. Arrigo let out a hollow laugh. "Thought so."

"Ask your father," she sighed, pushing her now-askew glasses back into position. "I hate to admit it, but after all this time, he obviously knows you better than I do."

Arrigo shrugged. "Maybe, but let's face it; the man knows the inside of the toilet bowl better than he knows me."

That was another unfortunate, yet undeniable truth. What the hell was wrong with this family? "Well... maybe you should get out of the house for a while. Is there anywhere you could go, just on your own?"

"I don't know," he muttered, drumming his fingers against his forehead. "Maybe I could go see Chloe."

"Excellent idea!" Carmena exclaimed as she pulled herself to her feet; if there was anyone who could be the sunrise at the end of this long night, it was a that sweet little child. "Do you need a ride? I wasn't planning on staying long."

Arrigo took to studying the floorboards. "No thanks. I can get there myself."

NEXT PROMPT:

Prompt 47 -- Paranormal

2010-04-14T01:23:00.003-07:00

Title: This House Is Vegas
Genre: Drama
Characters: Philippé, Sofia
Prompt: 47 ~ Paranormal
Word Count: Approx. 341
Rating: PG (just in case)
Type: Series
Summary: Philippé gets a shock.
Warnings: Short, semi-relevant prompt word

A life of low-key self-sheltering had taught Philippé that if he wanted a drink--just a drink, and nothing more, and no pressure to get into anything more--he had to hit the bar early, before the crowd came in. Usually, he lucked out and there were a few fellow patrons, perhaps some businessmen stopping for a quick beer before heading home or maybe some good Samaritan coming to pick up the family drunk who hadn't left their barstool for three days straight.

Tonight, however, he was the only one in the whole damn room. Even the bartender had gone into the back; he'd said it was to get a quick head-start on inventory, but Philippé privately suspected that 'inventory' was just the man's code word for 'pot'. In any case, he supposed it wasn't really his business... but he did feel like a bit of a loser, just sitting at the counter on his own.

But... he kind of was a loser, he had to admit. He might as well just face the facts at this point. He was twenty-five years old. He lived with his mom. He worked odd jobs--he had a bachelor's degree in education, but they had moved so frequently that he'd never bothered looking for a full-time position. His friendships were temporary and superficial, and women... dear God, women! Twenty-five years old, and the closest thing he'd ever had to a girlfriend was dead and had a four-year-old daughter with his kid brother.

His whole life had revolved around protecting his mother. He'd devoted every waking moment to being a good son--and he had been a good son. He liked being a good son.

But maybe he'd reached a point where he wanted to be something else too.

"Excuse me... is that seat taken?"

Startled, he turned his head and felt his eyes bulge. Was he seeing things? Was she... a ghost?

No. No, loser or not, he was more practical than that. She wasn't any phantom or vision or hallucination... was she?

"...Marisa?"

NEXT PROMPT:

Prompt 13 -- Passion

2010-04-05T13:15:00.004-07:00

Title: This House Is Vegas
Genre: Drama
Characters: Carmena, Vinicio, Donatella, Frankie
Prompt: 13 ~ Passion
Word Count: Approx. 393
Rating: PG (just in case)
Type: Series
Summary: Carmena unleashes her frustrations.
Warnings: So not worth the wait. So, so, soooooooo not worth the wait.

Carmena was not ordinarily a wrathful person, but the sight of Vinicio's other wife had so infuriated her that it took almost every ounce of consciousness she had to keep from clawing the bitch's face off. She couldn't even pay the slightest amount of attention to the angry words that Vinicio was exchanging with Frankie--his daughter this, alimony that...

It got to the point where Frankie slung his fist across Vinicio's face. It would have been her instinct to break up the impending fight before it began, but she knew that the moment she moved, she would lose it. She did not want to give Donatella and Frankie the satisfaction of thinking they were even worth the trouble.

Frankie. She'd trusted him--all these years, she'd trusted him. She didn't even have any thoughts for him at the moment. Right now, she was all emotion. She was all anger.

And if Frankie had wronged her, then Donatella...

"Look, you dumped me! I'm entitled to the some settlement!"

"Like hell you're getting any of my money! You slept with my son!"

Carmena's brow twitched; it seemed that her anger had just surged past its threshold. "...what?"

Before she knew it, she had crossed the room and smacked Donatella across the face. Never in her life had she struck a person; it was easier than she might have expected.

But then again, she certainly hadn't expected this. "You whore! How dare you sink your disgusting claws into my baby!"

"Ow! What the hell, lady?" Donatella shrieked, her hand massaging the site of the impact. "You were just standing there like some idiot, then all of a sudden you come over here and attack me?"

"Well, what did you expect me to do?" Carmena fumed, her fists clenched so tightly that she could feel her nails breaking through the skin of her palm. "He was underage before he left home! That's statutory rape! How dare you do that to my child!"

"Have you not met your child? It's impossible to rape Arrigo; that kid would fuck a star-nosed mole if he thought it was coming onto him! Tell me, how does it feel, knowing that you gave birth the most disgusting little slut in town?"

God--she didn't want to hear another word out of this woman's vile mouth. "All right, you asked for it, bitch..."

NEXT PROMPT:

Prompt 7 -- Enemies

2010-03-22T22:48:00.003-07:00

Title: This House Is Vegas
Genre: Drama
Characters: Vinicio, Arrigo, Carmena, Frankie, Donatella
Prompt: 7 ~ Enemies
Word Count: Approx. 655
Rating: PG (just in case)
Type: Series
Summary: Vinicio has some visitors.
Warnings: Mild language, prompt word irrelevant until very end

"So, I just signed the divorce papers," announced Vinicio as he took a seat on the couch next to his son. "Thought you might want to know."

Arrigo's right hand clenched into a tight fist, his knuckles the same ivory hue as the upholstery beneath them. "You mean Donatella's papers, right?"

Vinicio nodded; the boy's fist relaxed. "Yes, son--Donatella's."

"So... what's happening with you and Mom, then?"

He'd been hoping the kid wouldn't ask that question; in truth, he didn't even have an answer. "Well... I don't know. 'Rigo, I always loved your mother, and God only knows I'd get back together with her in a heartbeat, but... well, she'd have to be insane to take me back."

Arrigo shrugged. "You both wanted me to live with you; as far as I'm concerned, you're both insane."

"In any case, I want to give her some time to think about it before rushing into anything," Vinicio told him as a compromise, although he doubted that all the time in the world would bring Carmena back into his arms. "Try to be friends or something. Maybe she and Philippé will want to come with us to Italy at the end of the summer--I'd pay for them both, of course."

His dark eyes flickering to their corners, Arrigo raised one brow. "Why the hell are we going to Italy?"

"Why the hell not? It's been years since I've seen my parents."

"You have parents?"

Vinicio glared at him. "Funny."

Somebody knocked at the side door. Vinicio glanced toward the small foyer, trying and failing to see who it was. "Must be Rachele," he muttered to Arrigo before calling to the newcomer, "Door's open!"

Whoever it was entered the house quickly, closing the door behind them and stepping into the living room. Arrigo greeted them with a half-hearted smile. "Hi, Mom."

The hairs on the back of Vinicio's neck snapped to an upright position. Of all the people he had expected to see today--and all the people he hadn't--Carmena seemed the least likely to show up on his front doorstep. "Carmena," he addressed her sheepishly as he turned his head to acknowledge her.

She replied with a twitch of her mouth that might have been an attempt at a grin before surveying the room. "Oh, don't mind me, I just came to check up on 'Rigo; I'll be gone in a few minutes."

Arrigo slouched, sinking into the couch. "I'm okay. I'll maybe be better if you stay a while longer."

Sensing Carmena's discomfort, Vinicio pulled himself to his feet and made his way around the couch, coming face to face with his wife. "Carmena, don't feel as though you have to leave on account of my presence. I did promise that Arrigo could see you; if you'd rather I stepped out of the room, then..."

"...you'd just go off and have a drink," she finished for him. "Thank you, Vinicio. We'll both stay."

Ashamed, he let his gaze fall to the grain of the floorboards. "Oh. So you know about that."

Carmena sighed. "It's not like it's a secret; the whole town knows about it."

"Can you two talk about something else?" pleaded Arrigo from the couch. "Anything else? Please?"

The pair exchanged a long glance; Vinicio didn't want to talk about his drinking any more than he had to, and it seemed that Carmena didn't either. Now that the subject had been breached, however... what else was there to discuss? His other wives? Arrigo's womanizing? Philippé's lack of therefore? Was there anything about this family that wasn't a giant can of worms just waiting to be opened?

As luck would have it, they were spared the need for a conversation topic by another knock at the door. "It's open, Rachele!"

"It ain't your daughter, Morticelli," came a distinctly male drawl from the doorway.

Vinicio knew that voice. He knew that voice only too well.

NEXT PROMPT:

Prompt 18 -- Colorless

2010-03-20T02:26:00.003-07:00

Title: This House Is Vegas
Genre: Drama
Characters: Arrigo, Carmena, Vinicio, Philippé
Prompt: 18 ~ Colorless
Word Count: Approx. 1511
Rating: PG (just in case)
Type: Series
Summary: Arrigo is given a choice.
Warnings: Language, god-awful use of prompt word (hey, go easy on me--I'm running out of options!)

"'Rigo, are you sure you're okay?"

Arrigo wished his mother would stop smiling. He knew she was angry--or disappointed, or whatever hell it was that parents got when they actually gave a damn about their kids' behavior. It had been so long since Vinicio had stopped caring that Arrigo didn't remember... well, except for the whole fuckfest with Donatella.

But at least his father had reacted openly and honestly; his mother's forced contentment was more than he could bear. He almost wished she would just get it over with and strangle him à la Homer Simpson or something. It wasn't as if he didn't deserve it.

"Yeah," he lied under his breath. "I'm fine."

His mother sighed. "Arrigo, I don't like it when you lie to me."

How do you know the difference? It's not like I've ever not lied to you, he thought bitterly to himself, but he was too self-aware to actually say it aloud.

Behind him, he heard the back door creak open. He couldn't be bothered to look, but he could tell from the heavy tread of the feet on the porch that it wasn't one of the kids; it had to be Philippé. The sound of his brother's voice shortly confirmed this. "Mom? I hope you don't hate me for this, but--"

Philippé was cut off by the emergence of second person from the house--also an adult. Arrigo didn't think much of it. He didn't think his brother deserved any share of their mother's resentment, but if the man was finally bringing home dates, then all the power to him. God only knew the guy needed a good f--

"Arrigo!"

His gut told him to run, but he was too much of a coward to do any more than jump to his feet. "...Dad?"

His father rushed down the steps, his arms poised for a punch, a grasp, a tackle. Arrigo braced himself out of reflex for whatever pain was coming his way; unless Philippé had a shotgun on him, he would probably be dead in a matter of minutes. Oh well. He was probably better off six feet under anyway. He closed his eyes for the final time, taking a deep breath as his father drew nearer and...

...hugged him?

"Arrigo!" Vinicio repeated as he squeezed him more tightly than he could ever recall. "Mio figlio! Mio bambino! Sei salvo!"

This didn't make any sense.

After a minute or so of more Italian phrases Arrigo didn't understand, his father released him. "Why did you leave me? I don't know what you thought I said, but I never meant for you to run off like that."

He hadn't? But hadn't he said--? "You mean... you're not mad at me?"

Vinicio laughed; the sound was even more foreign than the language he'd been speaking before. "Mad at you? 'Rigo, I was never mad at you--I was mad at her. I just wanted a minute to clear my head, and I'm sorry if you can't tell the difference between my asking for that and my kicking you out of the house."

His father had made a joke. It was almost enough to make him wish he was manic--it was a rare occurrence that deserved more recognition than he could give it at this point in time. "Sorry that I'm stupid, then."

He watched as Vinicio's features fell to their normal tired position. "You're not stupid, baby. You were upset too, weren't you?"

"Please don't make excuses for me."

Vinicio floundered for a reply for a moment, but was saved from answering when Carmena pulled herself from the chair and stepped toward the pair of them. "Vinicio."

Philippé's descent of the porch steps was not enough to ease the awkwardness that had commenced. Vinicio swallowed, then nodded. "Carmena."

Arrigo barely noticed his brother patting him on the shoulder as he passed behind him; as much as he wanted to, he could not take his eyes off his parents. He hadn't seen them together since he was five years old, nor was he sure he wanted to--not like this, anyway. It was like staring at a fucking eclipse.

It was his father who began. "Carmena, whatever it is you want to say to me, I'm well aware that I deserve it. What I did was inexcusable and I wouldn't expect even a saint to forgive me. I imagine you've thought of plenty of insults for me, and every one of them is more than justified."

Carmena's eyes wandered from Vinicio to Philippé, then to Arrigo, then back to Vinicio. "I don't want to talk about you right now."

Vinicio did not protest. Arrigo didn't think he'd ever seen the man with such dignity, but perhaps it was just the guilt or the prolonged absence coming into play. "All right. What do you want to talk about?"

Her response was blunt and to-the-point. "What happened with you and 'Rigo?"

...Shit. Fortunately, this seemed to be the one question Vinicio was unwilling to answer. "I'm sorry, Carmena. I can't bring myself to tell you."

So his father was ashamed of him, at least; Arrigo was simultaneously unsurprised and disheartened.

His mother rocked back and forth in agitated discomfort. "I see. Now, why are you here?"

Vinicio rested his hand on Arrigo's arm. "Two reasons. First of all, I wanted to apologize to you, even though I know that no amount of apologizing will ever suffice for my reprehensible actions. Secondly... well, I wanted to see if Arrigo wanted to come home. Only if you want to, of course," he added to Arrigo directly.

Unsure, he looked to his mother, who gave a faint smile. "Whatever you choose, sweetheart. You know you're always welcome to come and go as you please here."

Arrigo had always wondered what it would be like to have two parents who wanted him; now that he knew, he realized that he would have almost rather had both of their scorn. "You... you want me to choose?"

"Well, it's not as if you'll never see whoever you don't decide to live with," his father tried--and failed--to reassure him. "We do live in the same town now."

Arrigo hung his head. A spider scurried over his shoe; he hated spiders, but that phobia was suddenly trivial. "Why can't I have both of you?"

Did it even matter? When had he ever gotten what he wanted? Hell, when had he ever even deserved what he wanted? He was being offered his choice of red and blue. He wanted the safe purple compromise, but he couldn't be so particularly--in all fairness, he hadn't earned a color at all. "I'm sorry. I can't do it. Is it so horrible to want you both?"

He parents exchanged a lengthy glance. Meanwhile, his brother tapped him on the shoulder and turned him around, a half-hearted grimace on his mouth. "'Rigo, let's go inside for a minute, okay? You don't have to see this."

NEXT PROMPT:

Prompt 4 -- Lost

2010-03-13T01:56:00.003-08:00

Title: This House Is Vegas
Genre: Drama
Characters: Vinicio, Philippé
Prompt: 4 ~ Lost
Word Count: Approx. 984
Rating: PG (just in case)
Type: Series
Summary: Philippé unleashes all his pent-up rage.
Warnings: Language

With Arrigo gone and Donatella gone and that text from Rachele stating that she was at Tuomo's, Vinicio had expected to come home to an empty house, but it seemed that he was not yet too old for life to surprise him.

"...Philippé?"

He hadn't seen his eldest in close to thirteen years now, but there was no mistaking that face. He had Carmena's beautiful eyes and Vinicio's own unfortunate nose. "Dad. Rachele let me in before she left. Nice kid--shame you had to cheat on Mom in order for her to exist, really."

In his heart, he'd always known he'd see his son again, but in that moment, he realized that the occasion had always seemed so inevitable that he'd never dwelled on it. How long had he had to think of the words he might say during this reunion? It didn't matter--as it turned out, every last second of it had been lost. "I, uh... didn't know you were in town."

Philippé's eyes narrowed to slits. "Well, you never asked, did you? Thirteen years and you never asked. Thirteen fucking years, and not one letter, not one phone call, not even a damn email!"

Sighing, Vinicio closed the door and placed his briefcase on the counter. Of all the days to not get drunk at work and just spend the night at the office, why today? "Philippé, I know everything I've done has been... stupid..."

"Stupid?" repeated his son, outraged. "Stupid? Do you think the word 'stupid' can even begin to describe everything you've done to this family?"

He knew he deserved this, but with all that was going on, with his divorce from Donatella and Arrigo's disappearance, he just couldn't handle it right now. "Philippé, just listen--"

"No, you listen!" Philippé roared, the surprising force of his voice causing Vinicio to stumble; the kid certainly wasn't twelve any more, that was for sure. "I've lived in every state in this country in the past dozen years just because of your selfish, moronic whims! Do you know how many colleges I had to attend to complete my degree? Would it surprise you to know I haven't made a single good friend since you drove Mom and I out? I'm still a virgin, for Christ's sake!"

Vinicio sighed. "Philippé, I'm so sorry..."

Philippé silenced him with a sharp glare. "It's too late for apologies, Dad! You put a woman through thirteen years of hell, a woman whose only mistake was loving you! You made me an outcast! You made my sweet little baby brother a dysfunctional, pill-popping Don Juan who probably has more STDs than pairs of socks!"

What could he say to him? Some people had a way of knowing just the right words, just what to say to make it just a little better; Vinicio could not claim this gift for himself. "Philippé, your brother... your mother..."

It was useless. He should've just never had kids to begin with--he doubted there was a worse father alive. He recalled that week between Carmena and Philippé's departure and his marriage to Christine. Every night, his bedroom door would fling open and five-year-old Arrigo would come running to the bed, tears streaming from his eyes, begging Vinicio if he could sleep there that night. He'd always tried to refuse several times, then given in just to stop that damn crying. Invariably, he'd regret it, trying in annoyance to fall asleep with the kid snuggling up to him, then waking up to the alarm, having to sooth him, then hurrying off to work despite the soft, sad little voice begging, "Daddy, please don't go."

And then even after he had married Christine--on their wedding night, no less!--Arrigo had continued with this behavior. Christine had put up with it, even understood it... but not Vinicio. So far as he'd been concerned, the kid had been cock-blocking him.

God, how he wished he could take those nights back. Hell, he wished he could take it all back. "Philippé, I'm so sorry."

"'Sorry' isn't worth those thirteen years, Dad!" his son insisted yet again. "And to think, I might have forgiven you if not for all the surprises! To find out that instead of your old mafia buddies being after Mom, you really just wanted to avoid getting into shit with your mistress? And I have a little sister who I would really like if her mother hadn't wrecked our family? And my childhood sweetheart had an illegal affair with my underage brother that resulted in her dying giving birth to his baby? How much of this am I supposed to be able to handle? Is there anything else I should know, Dad?"

"Yes," he replied, trying desperately not to break his streak--he hadn't cried in twenty years, and didn't care to start now. "You should know that I love you."

Philippé sneered; it was probably the closest thing Vinicio would ever get to a laugh. "You're really full of shit, aren't you? Just face it, Dad--you wrecked me, you wrecked Mom, and you sure as hell wrecked 'Rigo. All I have to say is that it's good thing Mom found 'Rigo right after you threw him out--the way you've raised him, it's probably the best thing you could have done for him."

Of all the things he'd thought he might hear, that had been the last to cross his mind. "Wait... Arrigo's with you and your mother?"

His elder son rolled his eyes. "That's what I just said, isn't it? I honestly can't believe a delicate little thing like him survived so long under your roof. You may have just saved his life by kicking--"

"I never kicked him out," Vinicio muttered. "It was a... misunderstanding. Anyway, Philippé... I realize that I'm in no position to ask you any favors, but please--take me to your mother's house. Please."

NEXT PROMPT:

Prompt 3 -- Broken

2010-03-07T02:36:00.003-08:00

Title: This House Is Vegas
Genre: Drama
Characters: Philippé, Arrigo
Prompt: 3 ~ Broken
Word Count: Approx. 453
Rating: PG (just in case)
Type: Series
Summary: Philippé psychoanalyzes his brother.
Warnings: Language, disappointing brevity

Rolling his eyes, Philippé shuffled to the bathroom door and knocked. "'Rigo, you've been in there for three hours! Even you don't take that long in the shower, and the water's been off for a while anyway."

As he could have expected, Arrigo didn't reply. Philippé sighed. "Look, if you were worried about Mom not liking your kid, there's no problem. She really took to her--and so did I. She's a nice kid."

"I knew Mom would like Chloe," Arrigo muttered from the other side of the door. "I just doubt she likes me all that much now."

Philippé scowled. How the hell had their father screwed up so horribly with this kid? "Well, she was... shocked, of course, but she's survived worse. I think she wants to see you, though."

"Yeah, so she can disown me and throw me out like Dad did."

"Mom isn't like Dad!" Philippé snapped. "So what, you're a whore--Mom doesn't care. She loves you anyway."

A distinct thud! could be heard from the bathroom; if he had to guess, it sounded as though Arrigo had been slammed the medicine cabinet shut. Probably looking for pills or somethin--good thing there weren't any in there. "Bullshit. You don't really think that."

Philippé had half a mind to kick down the door and smack the kid. "You know what I do think? I think you hate yourself so much that you just can't believe that other people could possibly love you."

"Hey, fuck off! Dad's an inattentive deadbeat, but at least he never tried to psychoanalyze me!"

"Just grow up and come out of that bathroom, will you? I'll hug you... or, I'll try not to flinch when you hug me, at least."

Arrigo opened the door and stepped into the hall, but made no effort to take Philippé up on his offer; in fact, it seemed those dark eyes could barely even stand the sight of his face. In a few short hours, Arrigo had reverted from his little brother back to the stranger from the bar, all bitter and guilty and just plain miserable. Twenty-five years on God's green earth, and Philippé had never seen anyone so broken. "I don't deserve a hug from you."

This wouldn't do; he had to cheer the kid up somehow. Philippé forced a grimace. "See, 'Rigo? This is what I'm talking about. Sure, you're pretty messed up, but who isn't? The bottom line is that you're my baby brother and I l--"

"Uh, before you say that," Arrigo interrupted him, a panicked spark flitting about his eye, "there's something you should know."

Philippé raised an eyebrow. "Is it really so urgent?"

Arrigo swallowed. "Well... it's about Chloe's mother."

NEXT PROMPT:

Prompt 24 -- Secret

2010-02-26T12:51:00.002-08:00

Title: This House Is Vegas
Genre: Drama
Characters: Carmena, Melody, Sienna, Chloe, Arrigo
Prompt: 24 ~ Secret
Word Count: Approx. 561
Rating: PG (just in case)
Type: Series
Summary: Carmena meets somebody new.
Warnings: Hasty transition post

"Carmena!" squealed four-year-old Melody as she bounded through the front door and into Carmena's arms. "Carmena, guess what we did in art camp? We made boxes out of popsicle sticks, and finger paintings, and cotton ball bunnies, and..."

Behind her, Sienna rolled her eyes as she made her way into the house, another girl at her heels--she must have been a friend the pair had brought back from art camp. "It wasn't that great; you only liked it because you're still four." Sienna was five. It was charming, really, how children thought a year was such a significant age difference. "Chloe's four too, but she's cooler than you, Mel."

Melody's eyes widened; Carmena gave her a reassuring pat on the shoulder, then locked eyes with Sienna. "That wasn't very nice, Sienna--there's no reason why all three of you can't be 'cool', as you put it. Please apologize."

"Sorry, Melody," Sienna grumbled, crossing the room to the fridge and pulling the door open, only to moan loudly. "Carmena! We're out of food!"

Carmena shook her head; she thought Sienna was a good kid at heart, but she was definitely more than a little boisterous. Perhaps she would grow out of it in a few years. "No, there's still some in there."

"Since when do veggies count as food?"

Kids. Sighing, she turned to the guest and smiled. "Welcome. I'm Carmena."

"I'm Chloe," the girl introduced herself, "and you have a very nice house. My Aunt Leslie would never paint our walls purple, but her tastes are boring. I like yours much better."

She hoped that Chloe wouldn't go home and say the same thing to her aunt; nevertheless, she indulged herself in a brief laugh. "Thank you. I'm glad you like it. Your aunt knows you're here, right?"

Chloe nodded. She had Vinicio's very eyes, Carmena couldn't help but notice; maybe he'd been even busier than she had been inclined to believe. He'd certainly get an earful when they met again. "I called her from Mrs. Boyd's cell phone before we left. She can come pick me up later."

"If it's more convenient for her, I could have one of my sons drive you," Carmena offered, "but we'll work that out later. Just have fun playing with the girls for now, all right? I'll send one of the boys out for snacks."

No sooner had the sentence left her mouth than a gleeful Sienna bellowed, "Philippé! Carmena wants you to go get us some snacks!"

Carmena glanced toward the stairs to the see that it was Arrigo who responded instead. "He's out right now. What do you need?"

Sienna began to count on her fingers. "Chips, and popcorn, and M&Ms, and..."

"Okay, okay, anything that'll rot your teeth, I get it," he teased the girl, his eyes then falling on the back of Chloe's head. "Who's your frien--"

He fell speechless as Chloe turned around, his eyes wide as they were his first Christmas, and with none of the excitement. They flickered rapidly between Chloe and Carmena while his feet shuffled backward, as though preparing to run clear through the door and all the way to the state border. "Chloe?"

Seemingly oblivious of his body language, Chloe rocked back and forth on the soles of her feet. "Daddy? What are you doing here?"

Carmena raised an eyebrow. "...'Daddy'?"

NEXT PROMPT:

Prompt 32 -- Sunset

2010-02-15T00:59:00.003-08:00

Title: This House Is Vegas
Genre: Drama
Characters: Evadne, Arrigo
Prompt: 32 ~ Sunset
Word Count: Approx. 696
Rating: PG (just in case)
Type: Series
Summary: Evadne gets an unexpected visit.
Warnings: Language, drabble

Chloe was spending the night at a friend's house, but Evadne didn't need the excuse of her young cousin to enjoy herself on the swing set. Gone were the days of trying to fit in, to speak and act and look just right--what was the point? Girls like Sofia didn't even seem all that happy anyway, she realized now. Perhaps she was growing up? It was a possibility, she supposed.

"Soaking in the last of the sunset?"

She knew that voice.

"Oh, so you haven't dropped off the face of the planet," she teased as Arrigo joined her on the swings; ordinarily, she wasn't too keen on the fact that the property had no fence, but she could make in exception in this case. "You know, most people call instead of just randomly showing up in someone's backyard. What's going on with you and your sister? Why aren't either of you ever around any more?"

Agitated, Arrigo slipped off the swing and began to pace about somewhat. "Well, I can't vouch for Rache, but I don't live at home anymore. I don't really want to talk about it."

Evadne raised an eyebrow. How long ago had this been? Why hadn't she heard about it? "That seems like the sort of thing Rachele would mention."

Arrigo shrugged. "Maybe she's holding onto some vain hope of me coming back again? Some shit like that? I don't know. I can't get into people's minds, you know?"

"Only their pants," Evadne sighed, slowing the swing to a halt and pulling herself to her feet. "Anyway, why are you here?"

Before answering, he engulfed her in a tight hug, resting his head upon her shoulder, his brow to the base of her neck. She did not think anyone had ever touched her there before. "I don't know. Just... wanted to a see a familiar face that didn't have any traces of mine, I guess."

Not even thinking, her hand fluttered to the top of his arm. It was only after the fact that she even realized she had done this. "Sorry to hear that, 'Rigo. Where are you staying now?"

"Doesn't matter," he breathed. His lips were inches from her flesh, she was sure, but somehow, she could feel their moist brush anyhow; maybe she shouldn't have let Sofia talk her into that margherita. "Just... tell Chloe her daddy loves her, all right? And that he's sorry for being such a shitty parent."

"Chloe doesn't think you're a shitty parent."

His eyes closed, Arrigo took a step backward, allowing Evadne's hand to fall back to her side. "If she doesn't now, she will later. It's just... I was so young, you know? I wasn't ready. Hell, I'm still not ready... and she's the one who's got to pay the price for that, even though it's not her fault."

She nodded. "Maybe just come around a little more often, 'Rigo. I think she'd appreciate seeing more of you."

"Yeah, maybe. I can try that."

"Don't try--do it."

Seriously. Boys.

"I'll do my best, Evie," he assured her, lightly flicking her beneath the chin for no apparent reason; she found she couldn't help but mirror his smile. "I'll stop by sometime this week, all right?"

"Good."

Arrigo shot her a quick wink, then glanced to the darkening sky. "I should probably go now."

She had to admit, her curiosity was eating away at her. "Where are you staying?"

She watched as his eyes widened, only to be obscured again by the downward batting of his thick lashes. "I told you; it doesn't matter. I'm here now, and I'll be back soon."

Evadne wasn't sure whether or not to believe him. For himself, Arrigo seemed unusually sincere, but it was difficult to find a strong link in a chain of broken promises. But maybe she was being to hard on him; maybe all he needed was the chance to grow up. "Okay."

"I promise," he muttered. "I'll be back. Also... Evie..."

There was something strange about the tone of his voice; it was laced with some sort of quality that it had never held before, and she couldn't fathom what it was. "Yes?"

NEXT PROMPT:

Prompt 23 -- Sin

2010-02-06T01:01:00.003-08:00

Title: This House Is Vegas
Genre: Drama
Characters: Philippé, Rachele
Prompt: 23 ~ Sin
Word Count: Approx. 582
Rating: PG (just in case)
Type: Series
Summary: Philippé meets his sister.
Warnings: Mild language, prickishness

Philippé knew it was rude to peak through glass panes and into people's houses, but in his father's case, he was willing to make an exception. Hell, the guy had chased him and his mother out of the house for the most selfish of reasons, lied through the teeth to do so, and never even bothered with a damn phone call. He'd married several other times--all while he was still married to Philippé's mother, even--and now, just when Philippé thought the man couldn't have possibly done any more damage, it seemed that the kid brother was thoroughly ruined.

Neither Arrigo nor their mother knew he was here. He'd told them he had a job interview--which was technically true, but it wasn't for another several hours. Regardless, he knew that neither would have been keen on his decision to come here, but he'd thought long and hard about this; finally, after all these years, he was going to say everything that had to be said, right to the face of...

...a teenage girl?

So this was his infamous sister--half-sister, he corrected himself. She looked harmless enough, at least if he was willing to look past the fact that she was the reason their father had sent him and his mother away in the first place. He wasn't sure he was. "Uh... it's Rachele, right?"

The girl nodded. "And you're Philippé. There are still pictures of you lying around, you know; 'Rigo used to pour over them all the time."

Philippé managed to intercept this thought just before it reached his sentimental center. "Let's not talk about Arrigo, okay? Where's Vinicio?"

Shaking her head, she stepped outside, closing the door behind her and looking him squarely in the eyes. "Passed out on the floor in 'Rigo's room. Why?"

No surprises there, really. "Well, is there any chance he'll be up soon? I'm in a bit of a hurry."

She took a moment to consider this. He wished she'd hurry up; he didn't really like to look at her. The very sight of her inspired unpleasant imagery of his father, his father doing disgusting things with strange women behind his mother's back. Rachele seemed like a nice enough girl, but the images danced their twisted tango about his mind, taunting 'This is how she was made...'

He just couldn't like her. For Arrigo's sake, he'd try harder if he ever saw her again, but he very much doubted he could accept her as his sister. Philippé was no more religious than the next man, but verses and confessionals aside, it was simply painful to look into the face of his father's sin. Was he horrible to think that? Probably--but what his father had done had been horrible too.

"Probably not," she answered at last.

Philippé tried to smile, only to realize that he had somehow forgotten how. "All right. I'll just drop by some other time, I guess."

Rachele returned the grin twofold, leaving him simultaneously guilty and annoyed. "Where are you staying? I could bring him by, if that's more convenient for you."

It most certainly was not! Vinicio and Arrigo? Vinicio and Carmena? Rachele and Carmena? Those were three too many uncomfortable run-ins for Philippé's liking. "Uh... really, it's fine. In fact, don't even tell him I was here--I'd rather surprise him."

He half-expected her to question him, but she instead chose to just push up her glasses and shrug. "Okay then. Good luck catching him sober."

NEXT PROMPT:

Prompt 15 -- Hatred

2010-01-30T17:06:00.003-08:00

Title: This House Is Vegas
Genre: Drama
Characters: Frankie, Donatella
Prompt: 15 ~ Hatred
Word Count: Approx. 497
Rating: PG-13 (just in case)
Type: Series
Summary: Frankie tries to come up with a new plan.
Warnings: Language, sexual references, shameless half-assery, the reason Van never plays chess

"Wha'd'ya mean, the son squealed?" demanded Frankie in disbelief, his daughter stepping backward toward the kitchen wall. "Damn! Idiot girl! If Vinicio's the one instigatin' the divorce, then his terms get put on the papers--not to mention, they'll be takin' you to court over the kid! Shouldn't have fucked him in the first place, but no, Princess Donatella goes and does whatever and whoever she wants! Son of a bitch!"

Donatella scowled, her white teeth bared between her waxy lips. "Hey, you're the one who said I could do whatever and whoever I wanted! How was I supposed to know the boy would tell? It's not like he and his father even talk much anyway--you can't blame me for not seeing this coming!"

"Oh, that's right. I forgot, in any other circumstance, havin' sex with a seventeen-year-old is a great idea!"

Seething, his daughter's eyes narrowed. "Well, it's not like you're doing any better. Tell me, has Carmena given you the time of day since you told her Vinicio was a bigamist?"

Well, that was a real kick in the crotch. Damn girl--was this really how her mother had raised her? Now that he thought about it, that didn't surprise him much.

"Hey, no need for pointin' fingers," he offered with a clap and smirk. "Anyway, we can't get the money out of this now, but if we play the cards right, we might be able to get out of this real easy. 'Sides, we can just take our business elsewhere; I hear old Lenny Marcotti ditched his lady and took up a penthouse in Reno..."

Donatella raised an eyebrow; she was well aware of the fact that any mistress of Marcotti lived like a queen. "Oh really? Well, first off... how do we get out of this unscathed, Sherlock?"

Frankie shrugged; he probably should have thought this through first. "Well... we just talk it over?"

She didn't look convinced--not that he could blame her. "I think you need to elaborate."

"Okay. Well... the kid ran off, right? And... it's not like it isn't common knowledge that Vinicio's a drunk and the daughter's pretty defensive about him. As long as the kid isn't in court, they have no case--and if that old bastard can see that, maybe he'll let the whole thing slide."

At least, that's what he was hoping; he'd never had a plan for such a scenario. It was improvisation from here on out. God, he hated that Vinicio. He hated him, and his whole goddamn family too.

Most of all, he hated that he couldn't come up with a decent idea. Fuck it all.

Donatella impatiently tapped her foot against the tile floor, the vibrations doing nothing for Frankie's barely-contained nerves. "I'm sure. Just in case, though, do you have a Plan B?"

"Yeah--we change our names and book it to Mexico."

And that was what they'd probably have to do. Damn that Vinicio--damn him to hell.

NEXT PROMPT:

Prompt 50 -- Paranoia

2010-01-23T22:18:00.003-08:00

Title: This House Is Vegas
Genre: Drama
Characters: Arrigo
Prompt: 50 ~ Paranoia
Word Count: Approx. 429
Rating: PG (just in case)
Type: Series
Summary: Arrigo starts to worry.
Warnings: Mild language, DRABBLE, inconvenient prompt word (can't help it--I'm almost out!)

I'm telling Mom you've slept with half the town...

Philippé couldn't have meant that... could he? He wouldn't really tell her that... would he?

Dear God, what would she say if he actually did? She'd be furious, no doubt--or worse, disappointed.

So it was that he had discovered the downside to having a parent who actually seemed to give half a damn. It was just as impossible to disappoint Vinicio as it was to get any other reaction out of him; as long as Arrigo stayed out of his hair and didn't do anything to bother, harm, insult, or otherwise negatively affect him personally, Vinicio didn't care.

But Carmena was a different story.

Arrigo's earliest memory of his mother, so far as he was aware, was in a church. He didn't know which church it was--hell, he hadn't set foot in one since she'd left--but seeing as he'd spent most of his life in Middleburg, it had to be one of the local ones. He'd been about two years old, maybe three. The mass had been just as dull as any other, and he'd been nodding off throughout, Philippé poking him every so often to point out something his ten-year-old self found amusing, like some fat lady's bra strap or toilet paper sticking to the priest's shoe or the word "ass" in the Bible; if Arrigo's other boring sermon memories were any indication, this would have all taken place some time after their mother had taken Philippé's Game Boy and slipped it into her purse until the drive home, but before that bit where all the adults and older kids got the bread and wine, whatever the hell that was about.

Anyway, while Arrigo dozed and Philippé fidgeted and Vinicio may or may not have even been there, Carmena had been... listening. Actually listening. Seriously, who paid attention in church?

Apparently, the mother of the biggest slut in town. It would crush the poor woman, knowing exactly what she'd given birth to.

I'm telling Mom you've slept with half the town...

He couldn't risk her ever finding out about his whoring ways--ever. He'd have to tell Philippé to keep his mouth shut, and he'd have to resort to whatever bribery or blackmail was necessary. A woman like that wouldn't dare be associated with a son like him... and yet, he could not risk losing her. He'd been without a mother for long enough.

I'm telling Mom you've slept with half the town...

Not if I can help it, Bro--not if I can help it.

NEXT PROMPT:

Prompt 45 -- Enigma

2010-01-15T19:55:00.003-08:00

Title: This House Is Vegas
Genre: Drama
Characters: Philippé, Arrigo
Prompt: 45 ~ Enigma
Word Count: Approx. 438
Rating: PG (just in case)
Type: Series
Summary: Philippé can't figure out his brother.
Warnings: Sexual reference, very mild language

Philippé just didn't get it.

His brother had been staying with him and their mother for about a week now. So far, he'd been nothing but helpful. Arrigo did chores that Carmena had specifically asked Philippé to do. He ran out for groceries and brought back exact change. He was good with the kids, and didn't even whine too much about having to change the baby's diapers. After the kids went to bed, Arrigo would sit in the living room with Carmena and they'd talk about absolutely anything that came to mind, and the boy was all laughter and dazzling smiles so long as Vinicio was not mentioned, which it seemed to Philippé that he never was.

But this didn't make any sense! Hell, he'd first been reunited with Arrigo in a place the kid couldn't legally frequent for another three years. The boy had cursed like a sailor and casually mentioned his sexual misadventures and experimentation with drugs to someone he'd thought was a total stranger. In addition to that, he'd been resolutely miserable and listless, with no direction in life and no particular intention of finding one--the last person Philippé would have ever expected to talk long into the night with someone as optimistic as their mother.

"Hey."

Well, think of the devil. Arrigo made his way into the room and stared, his lip curling. "You okay, bro? You look a little... distracted."

And whose fault do you think that is? Philippé longed to scream back at him, but he managed to catch his tongue just in time. "I'm fine, thanks. Just a little tired, I guess."

"Oh. Lousy sleep last night?"

Philippé raised an eyebrow as Arrigo set himself down in their mother's usual chair. "Indeed--and don't try to solve that problem by saying I should try tiring myself out with some girl."

"Well, I wasn't going to, but now that you mention it, maybe you could--"

"'Rigo, please! The next time you bug me about getting laid, I'm telling Mom you've slept with half the town!"

That seemed to shut him up.

Neither of them spoke for a few moments. Arrigo eventually sent a quizzical glance Philippé's way, then told him, "You know, you really do look tired. Maybe you should go take a nap."

Nodding, Philippé rose. "Actually, I think I will. Wake me up if you need me."

"I'll be fine," Arrigo promised.

Fine... Philippé mused as he pushed in the chair and strode away from the table. I don't even know what 'fine' is for you. Who the hell are you, kid? Make up your damn mind already!

NEXT PROMPT:

Prompt 12 -- Forgiveness

2010-01-07T19:18:00.003-08:00

Title: This House Is Vegas
Genre: Drama
Characters: Arrigo, Carmena
Prompt: 12 ~ Forgiveness
Word Count: Approx. 445
Rating: PG (just in case)
Type: Series
Summary: Arrigo comes to some conclusions.
Warnings: Minimal language

Arrigo tried not to look as his mother sat down beside him. It wasn't that he didn't like talking to her--he did, really--but after all this drama, he just wanted a few moments to himself. Besides, he didn't understand how she managed to be so seemingly unaffected by all of this; hell, she still even wore her wedding band! Was she truly so resilient? Or was she just being idealistic to the point of borderline stupidity?

Regardless, it was somewhat painful to realize just how different they were. He would never be strong and tough and generous like her; he would always be miserable and weak, just like his father. Perhaps that was why he had always been so willing to hurt the man.

"Nice night," his mother ventured. He replied with a grunt; he didn't feel worthy of words.

Out of the corner of his eye, he watched as his mother turned her head and frowned. "'Rigo? Are you okay?"

Are you okay? That phrase was almost foreign. His father had seen him much worse and had never bothered with that simple question. Yet, this realization only made him resent her more--why hadn't she been there to ask him if he was okay all those other times? Why hadn't she been there to hear him scream that he wasn't, to just make it better?

Ah, but the only reason he couldn't forgive her was that there was nothing to forgive. It was all his father's fault, everything from her initial disappearance to her continued absence to the current situation, and Arrigo himself had only fueled the process with his own idiotic decisions.

But after all this, he still couldn't feel too angry at the man. It seemed he was doomed to forgive Vinicio everything. Either fate was even crueler than he had guessed, or there was something seriously wrong with him.

"Arrigo?"

It was true that he had no right to have any grievance against her. Now that he thought about it, he couldn't give her an honest answer to that question anyway--if he told her what was on his mind, no matter how he stressed her innocence, she would not for a moment think to forgive herself. At last, he had been given an opportunity to vent, and all he could do was lie through the teeth.

Life. What a bitch.

"I'm fine, Mom," he told her with a grimace, slinging his arm around her in hopes of her reassurance. "Just... zoned out for a minute, that's all. Sorry about that."

His mother laughed. "Oh, 'Rigo, you silly boy! There's no reason to be sorry!"

For you, maybe--for you.

NEXT PROMPT:

Prompt 22 -- Love

2009-12-26T14:40:00.002-08:00

Title: This House Is Vegas
Genre: Drama
Characters: Evadne
Prompt: 22 ~ Love
Word Count: Approx. 422
Rating: PG (just in case)
Type: Series
Summary: Evadne makes a call.
Warnings: Drabble again. Sorry all :(

Evadne scrolled down past the assorted unread emails--spam, forwards from her mother, pointless Facebook notifications--until she found the residence notification from the university she would be attending in September. She opened the message, skimmed the introductory ramble, then stared at her allotted accommodations in disbelief.

As it turned out, she had no allotted accommodations. According to the university, she lived near enough to commute--and by 'near enough', obviously they meant 'within the state of New Jersey'. She got that students coming from out of state had greater need of a dorm room than she herself did, but she could not help but feel rather frustrated; the university was a good hour and half drive from Middleburg, and that was under ideal conditions. It was not a journey she cared to take daily.

She supposed she would just have to suck it up and get a job in order to pay for an apartment nearby. It would certainly be more convenient than staying home, but she had a heavy course load and did not particularly want to be distracted by a part time job and the pressures of paying the bills. Perhaps she would have to find a roommate with whom she could split the rent and utilities--maybe she could post an ad in the university's classifieds or something.

Or... wasn't Arrigo going to the same university? From what she'd heard from Rachele, Vinicio had been planning on renting him a condo near campus anyway--perhaps she could board with him if she paid half the expenses, if Arrigo didn't mind her constant presence. Maybe she would give him a call.

Figuring she had no reason to procrastinate, Evadne pulled herself out of her desk chair and picked up the phone. She punched in Arrigo's cell number, then pressed the phone to her ear and waited as through the dial tone until the rings began. One ring... two rings... three rings...

Six rings... seven rings... eight rings... Finally, the voice mail message took over. Hey, it's Arrigo. You must've caught me at a bad time, because obviously I can't pick up the phone right now, so just leave your name and number--and if you're cute, then maybe I'll get back to you at some point.

That was weird. Arrigo was usually quite good about answering his cell during the afternoon hours. Was something going on? She hadn't spoken to Rachele too recently--had something happened? Was Arrigo okay?

She hung up, then dialed Rachele's number instead--something was amiss.

NEXT PROMPT:

Prompt 42 -- Deception

2009-12-12T23:09:00.002-08:00

Title: This House Is Vegas
Genre: Drama
Characters: Philippé, Arrigo
Prompt: 42 ~ Deception
Word Count: Approx. 708
Rating: PG (just in case)
Type: Series
Summary: Philippé is suspicious of Arrigo.
Warnings: Language, sexual references, drug reference

Philippé strode into the kitchen at around nine thirty as he did every summer morning. He knew it was relatively early, and that he didn't really have much to do anyway, but he'd never really been one for sleeping in too late--it just seemed that those were hours of his life that he could never get back.

"Morning, Mom," he yawned, after being greeted by the rustling of items in the fridge.

"Mom just ran out to the store for a few things; I hope she gets waffles."

Wait... what?

Philippé hadn't put in his contact lenses yet, so he had to squint to make sure that the person with his head in the refrigerator was who he thought it was, but sure enough--he was right. "Arrigo? What are you doing here? And why are you walking around in your underwear? This isn't your house!"

Really, this was the least of the problems he saw here. If Arrigo was here, that meant he had met their mother. Had he told her anything about their father? And was she aware of the fact that her little baby was now a womanizing party boy? Even if everything else had failed to crush her so far, that would be the straw that broke the camel's back. "Seriously, 'Rigo... just go home, okay?"

Arrigo continued to rummage around through the fridge. "Can't. Dad kicked me out. Good thing I ran into Mom last night, hey? Seriously, do you guys eat anything besides fruits and vegetables and all that shit around here?"

Philippé rolled his eyes. "Look, we've got foster kids living here--watch your mouth!"

"Fuck off."

"Oh, you should just be glad Mom's not here right now... wait, what? What are you doing that for?"

Somehow, in the time it had taken Philippé to utter twenty syllables, Arrigo had pulled three water bottles from the fridge, only to start juggling them--juggling! Who knew how to juggle these days? "Why do I do anything? Just felt like it, I guess. Quick, toss me something else--maybe something potentially breakable!"

Sighing, Philippé shook his head. "I don't know whether you're cute or insane."

Really, he didn't know anything. Was Arrigo just trying to play up to his and their mother's good sides so they wouldn't kick him out like their father had? If so, Philippé wasn't sure he felt right about his mother being further deceived. On one hand, it would spare her the pain of seeing what Arrigo had truly grown up to be, but on the other... didn't she deserve to know the truth?

Or maybe this was the truth. Maybe Arrigo was really still just a hurt little kid who only wanted to be loved, but cast a reckless persona upon the world in order to avoid the pain of rejection or some load of crap like that. Whatever--he was getting near the point where not much surprised him.

Arrigo laughed, then tossed the bottles onto the counter and sent a quick smile Philippé's way. "You okay, bro? You're always so tense all the time. Seriously, you need to get laid."

"That's your solution to everything, isn't it?" he groaned.

His little brother shrugged. "You know, I know a few girls who would--"

"'Rigo..."

"Oh, okay. I know a few guys who would--"

"No! 'Rigo, I don't need sex right now! Stop bothering me about getting laid! Really, it's quite annoying and... wait, what are you doing now? Stop that!"

It was no use; Arrigo would not release him. "Dude, are you busy today? Let's do something awesome!"

Philippé barred his teeth. "Like what? Pick up some hookers and snort heroin off their naked bodies?"

"On a Monday? That sounds like more of a Thursday thing to me. I was thinking more along the lines of... amusement park?"

He blinked. "What?"

Arrigo nodded. "There's one about half an hour west of town. Or if you don't like that sort of thing, how about rollerblading? Or we could go shoplift some expensive chocolate, or... wait, you're twenty-five. We can buy liquor!"

"Okay, amusement park, then rollerblading later tonight!" Philippé declared, pretending he hadn't heard those other two suggestions. "Now, stop hugging me--too... much... love..."

NEXT PROMPT:

Prompt 27 -- Solitude

2009-12-03T19:05:00.005-08:00

Title: This House Is Vegas
Genre: Drama
Characters: Vinicio, Arrigo
Prompt: 27 ~ Solitude
Word Count: 307
Rating: PG (just in case)
Type: Series
Summary: Vinicio says what he means.
Warnings: Drabble. Major, major drabble.

"...Dad?"

Vinicio forced himself out of his chair and pushed it back into position. "You came back."

"Is that okay?"

He nodded, a small smile warming his face for the first time in what felt like months. "It's more than okay, son. I missed you, you know--I didn't mean for you to leave like that."

Arrigo took a few hesitant steps in Vinicio's direction, then looked him in the eye. "Is she gone?"

"Yes," Vinicio assured him. "She won't be hurting you any more."

"Just you, me, and Rache, then?"

Vinicio closed his eyes. "Yep. Just us. This family's been torn apart a thousand times, but I'll be damned if I let that happen again."

Arrigo didn't look convinced--not that he could blame the boy. "Are you sure?"

"If you have any chances left to give, I hope you can find it in your heart to offer me one," he muttered as he took a moment to memorize his son's face. "I've wasted more than my fair share, but I promise you that things will be different this time."

He had never said that before. At moments like these, Vinicio only said that which he truly meant--which was perhaps why he had remained silent through all those other times.

His son's dark eyes widened in some mingled state of longing and reluctance, like one who had been let down a hundred times over and could not decide whether or not to get his hopes up now. "Dad..."

Vinicio sighed. "Oh, 'Rigo... come here for a minute. Please."

Resigned, the boy relaxed and allowed himself to be embraced; Vinicio could not recall for the life of him having ever felt so warm. "My baby... never leave me like that again."

"Dad..."

Vinicio could not recall for the life of him having ever felt so cold.

NEXT CHAPTER:

Prompt 46 -- Dawn

2009-11-28T23:10:00.003-08:00

Title: This House Is Vegas
Genre: Drama
Characters: Carmena, Arrigo
Prompt: 46 ~ Dawn
Word Count: Approx. 566
Rating: PG (just in case)
Type: Series
Summary: Carmena and Arrigo have an awkward conversation.
Warnings: None. That makes me feel rather horrible, actually :(

Carmena slid her foot back and forth against the hardwood floor. She had thought that the situation would be hard to explain, but as it turned out, explaining had been the easy part--what was truly difficult was waiting for a response. It had been several minutes since she had finished, but Arrigo had yet to say a word; at this point, she doubted he would unless he was prompted.

"Your father isn't a bad person, 'Rigo," she muttered, gaining eye contact at long last. "He just... well, he has his weaknesses, like we all do."

Her son frowned--at least, more deeply than he had been frowning before. "I know. I'm just... I don't know, it's a lot to digest."

"I know."

It had dawned on her that this hadn't been ideal timing. Vinicio had just kicked the boy out of the house. Given the circumstances, it seemed likely that he was somewhat prejudiced against his father to begin with, and she had gone and given him this whole load of incriminating information about the man, just so he understood that she had never meant to leave him. Maybe it had been rather selfish, and she got the distinct, gut-wrenching feeling that she had shattered Arrigo's view of Vinicio almost permanently--despite what the boy said. "Well... I hope you do. I'm sorry you had to learn this so soon after--"

He silenced her with a tilt of his head and a glaze over his face. "Hey, I don't blame him for kicking me out. I deserved it."

"What did you do?"

His lips curled into a sly smile, but she noticed that it did not reach his eyes. "If I tell you, you'll kick me out. I'm sorry to have to be the one to break it to you, Mom, but I'm one lousy excuse for a human being."

Carmena burrowed her heel into the plush of the bear-shaped chair. "Arrigo..."

"No, I'm not blaming you," he insisted, "or Dad, for that matter. Well, maybe he did help a little, but I think at the end of the day, I'm just rotten to the core. In fact, I'm glad you weren't around when I was growing up--at least you didn't have to deal with just how messed up I am. You're better off without me and Dad."

Now it was he who had rendered her speechless. She still wasn't sure what to do about Vinicio, but Arrigo? Her baby? He couldn't possibly expect her to believe that... could he? "Please don't say things like that."

"I'm sorry," he mumbled, fidgeting slightly as he ignored her gaze and stared instead at the wall opposite him. "I just figure... well, you've been in the dark about everything for a long time. It might be nice to know the truth from the get-go for once, wouldn't it?"

"Arrigo..."

He shrugged. "At least Philippé turned out okay, right? One out of two isn't bad; a lot of people have done a lot worse."

She'd had enough of this for one night; she'd talk some sense into him in the morning. After everything, she was just too tired--finally, she was too tired. "I'm going to bed. Goodnight, son." She pulled herself from the chair and began to walk away.

"Mom, wait," Arrigo protested, rising to his feet and making his way toward her.

Carmena stopped. "Yes?"

NEXT PROMPT:

Prompt 33 -- Honor

2009-11-21T00:47:00.003-08:00

Title: This House Is Vegas
Genre: Drama
Characters: Arrigo, Carmena, Jessica
Prompt: 33 ~ Honor
Word Count: Approx. 1376
Rating: PG-13 (just in case)
Type: Series
Summary: 'Rigo does the right thing.
Warnings: Language

The wooden bench was anything but comfortable, but since Arrigo was homeless now, he would have to get used to it. God, he was an idiot. He should have figured years ago that it was only a matter of time before he got himself kicked out; he might've had the foresight to not get banned from every hotel in town.

Maybe he should've really brought the car--then he might have had somewhere to sleep. He'd told Rachele he'd thrown some stuff together, but in truth, all he had were the clothes on his back and the eighty bucks he'd recieved from his uncle for the past four birthdays, the only money in the house that was more his than Vinicio's. He didn't feel right, taking Vinicio's things, or stuff Vinicio had bought for him. Taking his wife had been enough.

Defeated, he pushed himself upward. These public benches had clearly not been made for lying down; he would just have to wait until he fell asleep sitting.

God. He'd never thought he would miss that house, but he did. He missed the kitchen, and the fridge that was never empty. He missed his bed, his pillow, having four walls around him at all times. Most of all, he missed his father and his sister. Did they miss him? He doubted it. Vinicio would be sleeping soundly tonight, musing the kicking Arrigo out had been the smartest decision of his life, he was sure of it. Meanwhile, Arrigo didn't particularly blame him.

"Excuse me, young man. Are you okay?"

He couldn't believe it.

It was the same woman he'd so shamelessly robbed only a week or so prior.

Why was she talking to him? At least, why was she speaking to him so nicely? If he recognized her, then there was no reason for her not to recognize him, as she--the victim--would have been the one of the two of them to make an effort to remember the other's face. How much had he stolen from her? Seventy-four dollars, hadn't it been? That wasn't an inconsequential amount by any stretch. If he'd been in her shoes, he'd be kicking some punk teenager ass right about now.

"Shouldn't you be at home with your parents?"

Arrigo sighed; it seemed that the woman was getting her revenge after all. "My dad kicked me out."

It wasn't the sort of thing he ever thought he would say to a stranger. He would have thought that any pride he had left would've won out--or maybe he'd run out of pride. Was this what it was to be desperate? Was this what it was to ask for help?

Sending a concerned frown his way, she approached the bench and sat down beside him. He tried not to make eye contact; if he blinked the wrong way, he figured she might rip his throat out. Now that he thought about it, it may not have been a disservice to him at this point.

Nervous, Arrigo fidgeted; he could feel the crunch of dollar bills in his pocket. Four dollar bills... four twenty dollar bills...

He cleared his throat. Conscious of the woman's eyes upon him, he casually reached into his pocket and pulled out the eighty dollars, placing the money between them. Sighing, the stranger shook her head. "I can't take your money."

"Why not?" demanded Arrigo. "I took yours."

"You need this more than I do."

"I didn't need it when I took it from you."

Resigned, she picked up the cash and stuffed it into her pocket, then made eye contact with him once more. Her eyes, he saw now, were startlingly familiar... but where did he know them from? He was drawing a total blank.

"Thank you," she acknowledged him. "You're an honorable young man."

Arrigo snorted. "'Honorable' is the last word I'd use to describe me."

He had the distinct feeling that she didn't agree, but the woman didn't press the issue. For a few minutes, they just sat there, the occasional car rushing past, a light gust or two playing with their hair. Then, finally--

"Do you have any other family in town besides your father?"

He frowned. "Well... I saw my brother not that long ago, but he doesn't live in town, so he might have left. Even if he hasn't, I don't know where he's staying."

Hadn't even given him a fucking address. Nice going, Philippé. Way to leave me again.

"Any friends?"

Arrigo shook his head. The woman raised an eyebrow. "What about that girl you were with that day?"

"Oh, her boyfriend is out on parole now, so I figure I'd better keep a low profile for a while."

"...oh."

The woman paused for a moment, then ventured, "Surely there's a hotel or something around here?"

He shrugged. "Don't have any money--and don't give me that back," he added as the woman's hand retreated into her pocket. "I don't want that money. My uncle gave me that money, and he shouldn't give me any money, because I haven't even seen him since I was a kid. I don't know why he even bothers; hell, if my mom left me, you'd think her brother would stop sending me birthday money."

Birthday money. He'd completely forgotten--not that he had been the only one.

"It's my birthday," he muttered mournfully.

The woman attempted to smile; the mention of his mother and uncle in conjunction with his tone probably prevented a true grin, but it was nice to see that she was trying. At any rate, it was more than anyone else had done for him today--not that he could really blame any of them. "Happy birthday. What a coincidence! It's my son's birthday too; he's eighteen today."

"So am I. I hope your son's having a better birthday than I am," Arrigo sighed. "My dad didn't remember. My sister didn't remember. Hell, I didn't even remember until just now--and I'm sitting on a damn bench that I'm probably going to have to sleep on, talking to some random lady I robbed, for God's sake, and--"

"Oh my God!"

A woman had emerged from the store. Arrigo vaguely recognized her as one of the high school mothers, but she didn't seem to share any similar sentiment about him; indeed, it seemed the one of them she knew was his unfortunate victim.

"Jessica!" the woman beside him exclaimed. "A little late to be shopping, don't you think?"

The newcomer laughed. "Ordinarily, but this store has a nighttime special. Only bedding place in town that's open this late too, you'll learn after living here a while longer--maybe you should take a quick look, Carmena."

...what had this Jessica said the woman's name was?

"Maybe I should," she agreed, blissfully oblivious of Arrigo's sudden frozen panic. "I do need a new duvet."

"They have a pretty good selection. The place downtown has a better one, of course, but on the other hand, they're much cheaper here."

"Cheaper is always good. Thanks, Jessica."

"No problem," Jessica assured her. "Anyway, I should go--Joseph probably felt obliged to wait up for me, and he has to be up early tomorrow. I'll call you, okay?"

"Okay. Bye, Jessica."

"Bye, Carmena!"

Arrigo decided to wait until Jessica was well out of earshot before resuming the conversation; he had a feeling that this would be awkward enough without any additional parties eavesdropping on them. It also gave him a little more time to think of something moderately intelligent to say--not that it was helping.

"Are you okay?"

Damn. He'd taken too long.

Hesitating somewhat, he forced himself to face her. How the hell to put this...? "Your name is Carmena?" Well, it was a start. She nodded; he swallowed. "Carmena... Morticelli?"

She pursed her lips, one eyebrow raised. God, she looked just how Philippé would have if he'd been a girl. How hadn't he figured out before? How had he been so stupid? "Do you, uh... know someone by that name?"

Arrigo gnawed on whatever he had of an upper lip; if he didn't answer her soon, he'd probably end up devouring it. He looked her straight in the eye and choked. "Yeah--my mother."

NEXT PROMPT:

Prompt 2 -- Ends

2009-11-12T07:23:00.004-08:00

Title: This House Is Vegas

Genre: Drama
Characters: Vinicio, Rachele
Prompt: 2 ~ Ends
Word Count: Approx. 935
Rating: PG (just in case)
Type: Series
Summary: Vinicio finds out what he supposedly did.
Warnings: Language, alcohol references

Donatella's rather loud car had screeched out of the driveway about an hour earlier, and Vinicio had not heard any traffic since, so after a quick glass of wine, he'd felt it was safe to leave his room. His room, that was--not their room. No more having to worry about that bitch stealing the blankets! All the things he could do now... he could thrash about without having to worry about anyone else's comfort... he could eat and drink in bed... and damn it, if he wanted to sleep with his socks on, he could sleep with his socks on! And by God, he would! Except not right away; sure, he was free, but that didn't change the fact that it was still summer.

But as he made his way into the dining room, he supposed he had more pressing matters on hand.

The mechanically precise, but otherwise soulless music had betrayed his daughter as the pianist. Just as well, he figured, as he was not yet ready to face his son. God. How had he been so stupid? He had spent so much time and effort building his empire that he had all but neglected his house. Well, not any more--as soon as all the legal crap was sorted out, he was going to give himself a well-deserved few weeks off and head out of the first Morticelli family vacation since the Christine era; just him, Arrigo, Rachele, and whatever destination they chose.

"Rache?"

She didn't reply. She seemed to be thoroughly engrossed with whatever the hell it was she was playing... or, at least, trying to play. "Rachele?"

Again, no response. Her apparent dedication made him wish that she had talent.

Vinicio shook his head. "Rachele? Honey? I want to talk to you."

The word 'talk' did certainly have a strange power in the household, it seemed, as she stopped with a loud, startled thud! Her back was turned, but he could almost see her blinking in shock.

"So, I was thinking," Vinicio began as his daughter pulled herself off the piano bench, "do you want to go to Disneyland for the last two weeks of summer?"

Another blink; if he didn't know better, he would've sworn that the gust created by the force of her eyelids had pushed her glasses further down her nose. "Oh, right--you get motion sickness. How about Florence? You could meet your grandparents! What better way to inform them of the existence of you and your brother than a face-to-face meeting?"

Rachele simply gaped at him in disbelief, her fingers releasing their leftover piano-playing motions onto her hip. "My brother? What the hell are you talking about? 'Rigo's not here."

Vinicio rolled his eyes. "I can see that. Look, I walked past his room, and the door was closed, so I figured he just wanted some space. I'll talk to him later."

"Later?" she parroted, as though the word left a foul taste on her tongue. "Are you drunk? 'Rigo's not in his room--as of seventy-three minutes ago, 'Rigo doesn't live here anymore."

It was now Vinicio's turn to blink rapidly.

"...what?"

Rachele glowered--something he would have never dreamed of her. "That's all you have to say for yourself? 'What'?"

"Well... where is he, then?" demanded Vinicio. "Evadne's? Sofia's?"

"Same house, Dad--and I don't know."

Vinicio sighed. "Can you call his cell?"

The girl moaned in disbelief. "You think I haven't tried that? He left his cell on the kitchen counter! God, Dad, what the hell were you thinking when you kicked him out?"

His jaw dropped; he had to lift his hand to his chin to make sure it was still attached to his face. "When I did what?"

"Don't you play the fool with me!" snapped Rachele. "You know what I'm talking about!"

"Rachele, I can assure you, I don't! I never kicked your brother out! I realize that I haven't exactly been a source of smart decisions in recent years, but even I am not so stupid as to leave a seventeen-year-old kid who has a will written up with instructions to engrave the phrase 'Life's a bitch' on his tombstone entirely to his own devices!"

Rachele's lip quivered, a tear welling up in the corner of her green eye. "What did you say to him?"

"I just asked him to leave the room for a minute... or at least, that's what I thought I did..."

His daughter bowed her head. "I guess he thought differently."

Vinicio strained his neck as he fought to keep his eyes pointing upward; he had not expected to cry today, but it seemed now that it was his fate. "My God... what have I done?"

"You know... it's not like we're in a big city, Dad," mused Rachele--more used to thinking for the both of them than he wanted to admit, he realized now. "Providing that you're sober enough, it wouldn't be totally useless to drive around and search. Besides, most people in town know who Arrigo is, and he kind of makes himself obvious, so if we leave now, we can probably find him, and if we can't, we'll call the police, okay?"

Vinicio nodded. He took a moment to rack his brain for his son's favorite haunts, only to realize he could not think of a single one. Truly, he was the worst parent who had ever lived; he would not have wished himself as a father on a seven-foot tapeworm. "I've only had one glass, and you have a permit. Let's just leave before it gets dark, all right?"

NEXT PROMPT:

Prompt 5 -- Door

2009-11-03T21:36:00.004-08:00

Title: This House Is Vegas
Genre: Drama
Characters: Rachele, Arrigo, Donatella
Prompt: 5 ~ Door
Word Count: Approx. 877
Rating: PG (just in case)
Type: Series
Summary: Rachele sees the household halved.
Warnings: Language, sexual references

Rachele didn't ordinarily watch a lot of television, but at the moment, she really didn't have anything else to do. Her father was unaccounted for, and Arrigo was moping in his room for no apparent reason again. She didn't particularly care to spend time with Donatella, and Evadne was out of town for the day. Tuomo, meanwhile, had some family thing--baby shower, she seemed to recall--that he hadn't wanted to miss.

Baby shower. God, if she didn't know otherwise, she would've definitely thought he was gay. Actually, now that she thought about it, she had gay friends who wouldn't have been caught dead at a baby shower. Maybe he was just... Tuomo.

But whatever. She wasn't really feeling creative enough to start on any project, and she'd read every book in the house, so television it was. She wasn't even sure what she was watching--not that it mattered, seeing as she was alone...

"Gossip Girl? Are you fucking kidding me?"

Hastily, she turned off the TV. "'Rigo?" she asked as her brother made his way around the couch and into her view. "You feeling okay?"

She didn't know why she'd asked; she knew the answer just be looking at him. "No. But that's not anything too weird, is it? Anyway... I just wanted to say goodbye."

Rachele frowned. "Goodbye? 'Rigo, what are you talking about?"

Silence. Then--

"Dad kicked me out."

"What?" she gasped, anxiously gnawing on the lining of her cheek. What had Arrigo done? And did her father seriously think he could survive on his own? Arrigo of the two psych ward stays and three attempted suicides? Mr. "Meds?-No-thanks-I-have-cocaine" himself? A boy who'd never worked a day in his life and had no clue as to go about finding a job, a home, etc.? What was her father thinking? "But--but--why?"

Arrigo sighed. "I fucked Donatella."

Rachele found herself blinking repeatedly, something she preferred to avoid to doing in most instances. "Wait... what? If you slept with her, then she's a sex offender, so... why's he kicking you out? You're the victim here!"

"Victim?" he scoffed as she pulled herself to her feet. "Rache, I fucked my father's wife! Trust me, I'm not the victim--he's right to kick me out. I'd kick me out."

"But it's not like you can take care of yourself," she sighed.

Arrigo closed his eyes. "Maybe that's for the best."

"'Rigo, don't talk like that..."

"Rache, just shut up and let me hug you."

Resigned, she did as she was told; she'd reached the point where she knew it was useless to even try with either her father or her brother, as horrible as the revelation felt. "I'll miss you, sis," Arrigo told her. "I'm sorry you've had to put up with all this shit all these years. I love you."

"Love you too, bro," she replied.

As they parted, she looked him in the eye and tapped her foot. "You didn't pack your meds, did you?"

"I did so," he insisted, a smug look on his face.

"You did not."

Arrigo glowered. "Why don't you believe me?"

"Because I know you."

Rolling his eyes, he brushed past her, patting her on the shoulder as he went. "So long, kiddo--have a good life."

"By, 'Rigo," she muttered as he opened the door and stepped outside, eventually heading off in the direction of the garage. He carried nothing; his stuff must have already been in his car.

Perhaps she should have gone after him, dragged him back inside and made him talk this over with their father. Sure, Arrigo had made perhaps the fucking stupidest mistake of his life--well, maybe not quite the stupidest, but it was definitely up there--but hell... he was Vinicio's son! Didn't that mean something? Anything? Hell, Vinicio didn't even seem to like Donatella all that much--let alone love her!

And speaking of Donatella, the sound of high-heeled shoes making their way down the stairs was clearly audible. Rachele turned around; sure enough, there she was.

She carried two bags, neither of which were any bigger than a large purse... but then again, most of Donatella's clothing could probably fit in a jewelry box. Either way, it seemed that Arrigo was not the only one who had been so abruptly evicted.

"Hey! Rachele!" her stepmother snapped as she reached the bottom of the stairs. "I have a message for your father that I want you to pass on when I leave."

Rachele glanced toward the ceiling. "What is it? His son's better in the sack than he is?"

"No... well, yes, but that's not what I was thinking," Donatella protested--not that Rachele really needed to hear that. "You tell your father that his only attractive feature is the size of his wallet; if it weren't for that, make sure he knows that no one in their right mind would give him the time of day!"

"I think he already knows that, but fair enough," agreed Rachele. "Now, excuse my language, but get the fuck out."

Donatella groaned as she proceeded to the door. "You don't know who you're talking to, girl."

"Oh, I'm so afraid of Miss Gold-Digger McPedophile," Rachele sneered with a mock-pouty face. "What are you going to do, steal my daddy's money and exchange hepatitis strains with my brother?"

"You haven't seen the end of this!" her stepmother screamed as she slammed the door behind her, storming away.

Rachele scowled. "I bet I have!"

Indeed, she had. This was it. At least Donatella was gone, and her father was now free from her greedy little hands; if nothing else, Rachele could be thankful for that.

But either way, someone wasn't going to be sleeping with a proper roof over their head for a while, and it sure as hell wasn't Donatella.

NEXT PROMPT:

Prompt 48 -- Chaos

2009-10-27T20:13:00.006-07:00

Title: This House Is Vegas
Genre: Drama
Characters: Donatella, Vinicio
Prompt: 48 ~ Chaos
Word Count: Approx. 968
Rating: R (just in case)
Type: Series
Summary: Donatella gets a mouthful.
Warnings: Partial nudity, language, alcohol references, sexual references, lousy translations

Donatella flexed her toes as she tapped her fingers against her other hand impatiently. She'd heard Vinicio's car pull up a while ago, but she wasn't particularly worried, seeing as he had typically drunk his way into a senseless stupor by this time of day--however, it did bother her somewhat that Arrigo hadn't been prompt. Donatella Laguardia was not a woman who appreciated being forced to wait.

Finally, the bedroom door creaked open, the sound of masculine footsteps resounding from the marble floor. A sly smile crept onto her face--finally. "About time."

"Damn right it is."

At the sound of that voice, she felt her whole body freeze, as though she had been suddenly infected with some paralyzing toxin; she had been expecting Arrigo for so long now that it had not even occured to her that the newcomer might have instead been her husband. More surprising still, he seemed relatively sober... and angry. Vinicio was never angry; he was never anything but drunk and listless.

"We need to talk," he growled dangerously; she vaguely mused that perhaps she preferred him passed out on the kitchen floor. "And first of all, don't even bother pretending it was me you were waiting for in nothing but your panties; the last thing I need is for you to further insult my intelligence."

Biting her lip, she glanced toward the bathroom door, away from him. How would he have known anything? Sure, she'd been married to him long enough to know that he himself was too often inebriated to be at all satisfying, but how was he to know about her little misadventures? Had one of the men told him? It seemed the only possibility.

Regardless, she did know how to handle the situation. "Darling, I don't know what you're talking about. Here, sit down and--"

"No. You stand up--now."

Once again, Donatella found herself stunned. Never had before had she been given a command by a man--and certainly never by such a spineless deadbeat as Vinicio! What in the hell was going on here?

"Adesso!"

Clearly, he meant business; she hoisted herself up and slipped off the far side of the bed, making her way around it to meet him at the footboard.

"Look, any idiot can figure out that you only married me because I'm one of the richest men in the whole God damn state," he sneered, his thick brows furrowing dangerously, "and I've been apathetic enough to the idea that I've been content to just let you play your little game and start picking away at my fortune with all your shopping sprees and spa treatments and whatnot, but you've taken this too far!"

Donatella rolled her eyes--she got that he was upset, but he wasn't helping matters by being vague. "Seriously, what are you talking about?"

"Don't play the fool with me!" snapped Vinicio yet again. "Out with it--how long have you been fucking my underage son?"

Arrigo? How the hell had Vinicio found out about that? It seemed to Donatella that the only way he could have was if Arrigo had told his father himself--and knowing Arrigo, that didn't seem at all likely. Either way, however, it wasn't as if she didn't know how to handle this.

"Arrigo?" she demanded. "You idiot! I haven't touched him!"

Barring his teeth, Vinicio stomped his foot against the floor in his mounting fury. "He told me you slept together!"

"Then he's a liar! How the hell could you possibly think I'd ever want to sleep with your bipolar whore of a--?"

"DON'T TALK ABOUT MY BABY LIKE THAT, YOU CONNIVING LITTLE CUNT!"

She was thoroughly silenced. It was unbelievable just how gravely she had underestimated his ferocity while sober and livid; she definitely preferred him when he was drunk.

"Stay away from my son, you hear me?" he seethed, sounding rather like some hissing animal. "He's seventeen! He's only a kid--how dare you take advantage of him! My God--it's a good thing I still have that divorce lawyer on speed dial!"

"You have a divorce lawyer on your speed dial?" demanded Donatella, now offended to the point at which her will to fight had returned to her; the nerve of this man!

"Three," Vinicio replied coolly, before adding a cruel afterthought of "and about a dozen hookers."

This was too much; enraged, she threw her open hand across his face and scowled. "How dare you! What right did you have to assume our marriage would fail?"

"Well, seeing as how you've been violating my child, I have every right--plus the right to press statutory rape charges, and you can bet that hot little ass of yours I'll be taking advantage of that one!"

"Violate him? Even if I did sleep with him, that boy's already been violated by every woman in the whole damn town!"

With a fury Donatella had never seen in her life, Vinicio scrunched his features and screamed at the top of his lungs, "That's it! Get out of my house!"

Donatella could only gape at him. "...Excuse me?"

"You heard!" he roared. "Get out! I don't want to see your face again unless it's in a courtroom!"

"But my things--"

"You'll get them back when you get your own place," snarled Vinicio. "Lord knows I don't want them lying around! Grab what you need for a few nights, and if you're out in less than ten minutes, I'll be merciful and keep your credit card activated for another week."

She gasped--that wasn't fair! "Only a week? What can I possibly buy in just one week?"

"You should be grateful you're even getting that long!" he fumed through gritted teeth. "Now, what are you waiting for? Esci da mia casa, donnacca!"

NEXT PROMPT:

Prompt 10 -- Dark

2009-10-17T02:05:00.002-07:00

Title: This House Is Vegas
Genre: Drama
Characters: Arrigo
Prompt: 10 ~ Dark
Word Count: Approx. 746
Rating: PG-13 (just in case)
Type: Series
Summary: Arrigo takes Vinicio's last word to heart.
Warnings: Short, mildly angsty prose, some language, sexual reference

There was worse than sorrow, Arrigo realized as he lazily picked at a loose, fraying thread of denim from his jeans. There was worse than depression. There was worse than despair, anger, hatred.

Perhaps such things were simply an absence--an absence of other, more pleasant feelings. Perhaps gray was the absence of color, and dark the absence of light. Silence was the absence of sound, cold was the absence of heat, death was the absence of life.

But what was the absence of all of these things? What was the absence of even absence?

Nothing. Nothing was the worst thing, if it could even be called a thing. No light or dark, life or death, love or hate--simply nothing. It was as if he--and the house, and everything else inside--did not even truly exist. It could have been burning to the ground and no one would have cared, not even those who went up in flames and smoke as the wreckage crumbled to ash around them.

The thread unraveled between his fingers, the strands mere wisps of fluff, barely significant enough to even name--not unlike how he found himself just then. More than anything, Arrigo wished his father would burst through the door, to cry, yell, beat him, kill him... anything. Anything but this; this... nothing.

Maybe this was his punishment, it occured to him as he listlessly slung himself off the bed. He couldn't deny that he deserved it--hell, he'd slept with his stepmother, for fuck's sake--but in the end, he was tired. Exhausted. For his entire life, he'd been stuck on this intense roller coaster of his social life, his divided family, his own warped and unstable mind. Now, it was only gaining speed, jerking about even more tight corners and loops--now, when all he wanted to do was get off and puke his guts out.

And yet... even that feeling was so empty. Perhaps the only thing Arrigo truly found himself at the moment was deceived. For twelve years of his life, math teachers had imprinted upon his brain the "fact" that if one kept adding positive amounts to a pre-established amount, the value of the amount would continue to grow infinitely; this was not true. In fact, there was a loop, or such was the case with misery and hopelessness and everything else Arrigo had ever known. Their values had increased steadily, climbing to unfathomable amounts--and now, it seemed they had reached the end of infinite, and had reset themselves to the beginning. Zero. Nothing.

And in all honesty, something--anything--was better than nothing.

He had to reach to prevent himself from falling hard into the wall; before then, he hadn't even noticed that he had been facing the wall. He was only vaguely aware that he was in his room, his house, the fucking planet. Part of him regretted the action--maybe if he had just allowed himself to collapse, he might have gotten lucky and smashed his worthless head open, leaving nothing of himself but a vile mess of blood and flesh and brain matter in that corner of the room.

But when had he ever been so fortunate? Even in hindsight, it seemed too much to hope for. Maybe it was for the best, anyway; hadn't every other plan to date failed? If there was a God, then He was playing a cruel joke; it seemed that He intended for Arrigo to live to the ripe old age of a hundred and twenty, each passing day even more torturous than the one before.

His life had already fallen to pieces. It was now time for those pieces to fall to pieces of their own, and so all subsequent pieces would continue to do so, until they too reached the point of nothingness.

Vai, his father had told him. Arrigo was not fluent in Italian, but he did know that word--vai. Go.

Vinicio Morticelli always spoke English--always. He didn't even have an accent unless driven by some overpowering emotion, which the alcohol thoroughly prevented these days. If Vinicio said something in Italian, then he meant it--and he meant it to the fullest capacity.

Arrigo would "vai". He would go, if that was what his father truly wanted. In all honesty, he didn't blame Vinicio in the slightest; who wouldn't want to be rid of him? Lord knew he'd been waiting long enough to get rid of himself.

NEXT PROMPT:

Prompt 9 -- Light

2009-10-07T22:01:00.004-07:00

Title: This House Is Vegas
Genre: Drama
Characters: Vinicio, Arrigo
Prompt: 9 ~ Light
Word Count: Approx. 1014
Rating: PG-13 (just in case)
Type: Series
Summary: Arrigo wants to talk.
Warnings: Mild language, sexual references, alcohol references

After a hard day's work--or, at least, a day's work, he supposed--Vinicio had figured he might reward himself by doing something different for a change. However, not long after the thought had occured to him, he found himself slipping back into his usual routine of mindlessly driving from the workplace to his house--though he may have stopped for gas or groceries at some point, he didn't quite remember--then pulling into the driveway and heading inside, leaving anything he might have purchased en route in the kitchen and then proceeding to his office, where he would, invariably, slide his briefcase under the desk and pour himself something to drink, uninterrupted for a good hour or two before supper with the kids and Donatella, if they actually happened to be home at the time. He somehow doubted that they were; Donatella was probably out at some spa or boutique, Rachele was likely over at Evadne's or Tuomo's, and Arrigo was surely off with some girl.

Not bothering to check to see if he was right in that regard, as everyone in the house seemed to make a point to avoid each other anyway, he continued on with his usual regime. Briefcase under desk, check messages, no messages, proceed to liquor cabinet...

"...Dad?"

He had been wrong. Arrigo was home after all, and it seemed he actually wanted something. Vinicio rolled his eyes; unfortunately, that rum and coke would just have to wait.

"'Rigo," he answered dully as the boy stepped further into the office. Vinicio then crossed him and turned to meet his eye, as though standing in front of the alcohol would erase its existence from his son's memory. "Didn't you have plans with T-... J-... what's-her-face?"

Arrigo shrugged. "I told her I had a headache. Dad... can we talk?"

Can we talk? When had been the last time Arrigo had asked him that? Hell, when had been the last time anyone had asked him that? No one ever wanted to talk to him anymore--how could he possibly let this opportunity pass?

"Of course, son," Vinicio promised. "What is it you want to talk about?"

For a moment, it seemed that Arrigo's only response was silence. Then--

"I did something bad."

Shaking his head, Vinicio couldn't help but smile slightly. "We all do from time to time, kiddo."

His son, however, didn't seem particularly convinced--not that Vinicio could blame Arrigo for not fully trusting him. "Not this bad. You're going to hate me."

"Try me," challenged Vinicio. "What did you do?"

Again, nothing but an anxious stare; any resolve the boy had possessed was now gone.

"What did you do?" he rephrased. "Burn down a church? Plant explosives on a bus? Assassinate the president? Steal a--"

"I slept with Donatella."

No sooner had the words left Arrigo's mouth than he began to cringe, as though he wished he could swallow them back and run from the room like nothing had happened. It was now Vinicio's turn to simply gape.

"...what?"

He watched unblinkingly as his son's lips formed the phrase "I'm so sorry", but found he could not hear it; there was too much noise in his own head. He'd had a feeling that Donatella had been sleeping around, but never had it occurred to him that she would have sought such a relationship with Vinicio's own son--his damaged, delicate, underage son. Little though he could claim to love his young wife, he had imagined he would be furious with whoever was making a cuckold of him, but as it turned out, he was not--not with Arrigo.

His son hadn't been due until the middle of August, Vinicio was suddenly reminded; yet, he had come by the end of July. God, he'd been a tiny thing--the doctor had sworn that he was nearly six pounds, though to Vinicio he had looked to be barely five, if even that. He'd had to spend a few days in the neonatal care unit after falling briefly into respiratory distress, his tired, worried mother never leaving his side for a moment. Finally, after that period of mingled anticipation and alarm, Vinicio had at last been allowed to hold the boy, all small and red and scared of the world.

And hell... he'd vowed that the child would never have a reason to be scared again. All he'd wanted to do was protect him, show him right from wrong and give him the wisdom to know the difference. From the first time he'd held him, that had been his sole responsibility.

It was only now that a sharp light had been cast upon his failure.

"Dad?" Arrigo muttered breathlessly once more, his dark eyes wide and fearful as they had been when he was less than a week old. "I know you're mad at me, but... aren't you going to say something? Dad? Daddy?"

He couldn't deal with this right now; it was too painful to look into the eyes of his injured victim. Sighing, Vinicio brushed past Arrigo and collapsed onto the sofa, his gaze fixated on the grain of the hardwood.

"Dad...?"

"Go," Vinicio whispered at last. Try as he might, he just couldn't look at this fleeting light that was his son, this blinding monument to his every failure. "Just... go."

"Dad..."

"Vai!" he snapped, slipping back into his native tongue--something he very rarely did.

Arrigo muttered one last "Sorry", then slowly made his way from the room. Without looking, Vinicio could tell that he did not dare send a backward glance; he would have felt those eyes upon him like the very wrath of God.

How had he let this happened? Had he truly been so unconscious as to allow that whore to use his last precious piece of Carmena as a mere plaything? Everything else seemed so trivial now; the lies, the failed marriages, the illicit business deals... nothing. At the end of the day, all that mattered was Arrigo.

Arrigo... now bent, battered, and thoroughly and completely broken, all thanks to Vinicio himself.

NEXT PROMPT:

Prompt 26 -- Fragile

2009-10-01T20:00:00.004-07:00

Title: This House Is Vegas
Genre: Drama
Characters: Philippé, Blake
Prompt: 26 ~ Fragile
Word Count: Approx. 389
Rating: PG (just in case)
Type: Series
Summary: Philippé muses about his mother.
Warnings: Sexual references, drug reference, ridiculously short prompt

"There there," Philippé soothed the baby as his cries finally faded into infantile babbling. "It's okay. Everything's okay."

Maybe it was a good thing he couldn't find a decent job in this town; did he really want his mother to have to take care of all of these children by herself? It was true that if anyone could do just that, it was her--she'd certainly raised him right--but after thirteen years of randomly moving around the country, only to find out that it had been because his stupid father had wanted to marry someone else and hadn't had the balls to ask for a divorce, she was tired. She was frustrated. She was fragile.

It was a good thing he was holding the baby, because it seemed that the child was the only thing calming him down. If he'd just been in his room alone, or at the bar, or working somewhere... he might have gotten angry. Very, very angry.

Seriously... his father was an idiot. Who the hell would do that to his wife? Tell her the mafia was after and send her on a wild goose chase just so he could get some more loving with some whore? After that, one would think he would have at least bothered to raise her younger son properly...

Arrigo. That kid was another problem entirely. Philippé had made his brother swear he wouldn't inform Vinicio of his presence, but he himself had never mentioned Carmena. Arrigo had asked if she ever thought about him--that was it. He'd told him that she did, then changed the subject; if Arrigo knew that Carmena was in town, chances were that he would look for her.

And that was the last thing their mother needed. Lord knew he was all she talked about some days--Arrigo this and Arrigo that, when she would see him again, blah blah blah--but she didn't even know who this Arrigo guy was. Philippé himself hadn't until only recently. How would Carmena react to finding that her little darling was now a pill-popping, coke-sniffing womanizer who had more sex any given week than she herself had in thirteen years?

She couldn't handle it. She'd already been battered and cracked and torn, and she needed time to recover; no sense breaking her once and for all.

NEXT PROMPT:

Prompt 6 -- Choice

2009-09-24T12:53:00.004-07:00

Title: This House Is Vegas
Genre: Drama
Characters: Arrigo
Prompt: 6 ~ Choice
Word Count: Approx. 318
Rating: PG (just in case)
Type: Series
Summary: Arrigo makes a decision.
Warnings: Sexual references, ridiculously short prompt

For the first time in months, Arrigo had the house to himself. He did not often spend time at home if he could help it, and even when he actually did, either Rachele or Donatella could be found elsewhere in the house. Today, however, Donatella, armed with her legions of credit cards, had driven into the city to do some shopping, and Rachele too was out and about.

He'd thought about leaving himself. It wasn't as though he didn't have anything better to do--both Amy and Sofia had been sending him hourly, increasingly provocative texts expressing their desire to spend some time in his company--but he just wasn't in the mood.

Donatella had left another one of her thongs on his pillow that morning. He'd woken to the sight of it; she'd been in his room while he was asleep. If he had found any fun in the affair before, he certainly didn't now. It was getting to the point where it was simply creepy, nothing more and nothing less. All he felt was used, stalked--not loved, not wanted, not even satisfied.

He had to tell his father. It was a stupid decision, and he knew that, but this had gone on for long enough. They had all fucked up, all three of them, and more than they could ever hope to just ignore. This was how they had always dealt with their problems here, simply by waiting for them to disappear--and they continued to do so even though it had never worked.

Was there even a choice at this point? It seemed almost inevitable, perhaps the only way to make things right. His father would hate him... but did that even matter? With Vinicio as absent as he was, would it even make a difference?

Arrigo no longer cared. He knew one thing, and one thing only--he had to tell his father.

NEXT PROMPT:

Prompt 35 -- Sixth Sense

2009-09-20T14:34:00.002-07:00

Title: This House Is Vegas
Genre: Drama
Characters: Tuomo, Rachele
Prompt: 35 ~ Sixth Sense
Word Count: Approx. 343
Rating: PG (just in case)
Type: Series
Summary: Tuomo has an unexpected visitor.
Warnings: "Ass glue required" prompt. One of those prompt words that are somewhat difficult to fit into the main storyline. May be painful to read.

Rachele Morticelli was not a girl ruled by intuition. She looked before she leapt; the sort of person who read all the labels on an article of clothing before tossing it into the wash, the type to lock a door, take five steps, and then double back to reassure herself that she had not left it open. If Rachele ever wished to drop by for a visit, she would always call in advance, making sure that it was a convenient time for the host in question and that she was not imposing.

And yet, here she was--unannounced--at Tuomo's door.

"I'm sorry," she began, "I just... wanted to talk. Do you have a moment?"

Nodding, Tuomo stepped outside, closing the door behind him and steering her slightly aside; his younger sisters were home, and he had a nagging feeling that this would be a conversation he did not want them to overhear.

"What is it, Rache?" he asked rather tentatively. Was it serious? Had her father finally drunk himself into liver failure? Had Arrigo knocked up another girl? Was the stepmother spending every last penny left, right, and center?

He waited a moment for a response. Then--

"Nothing. I just felt like dropping by."

That didn't sound like Rachele at all.

Tuomo frowned. "Oh, really?"

"Would I lie to you?" demanded Rachele.

He did not want to tell her to her face, but in that moment, it truly seemed that she would--and was.

"Rachele..."

"I'm sorry," she apologized softly, leaning ever so slightly toward him. "I just... it's nice to be in a house where people actually talk to each other."

To this, Tuomo had no verbal reply, though it was clear from Rachele's wide green eyes that she expected something of him, some sort of profound phrase or comforting action. Normally, his mind was sharp enough, but at that moment, he found it blank--then and there, all he had was his intuition, this fleetingly fickle extra sense upon which he rarely could rely.

But it would have to suffice.

NEXT PROMPT:

Prompt 43 -- Memory

2009-09-13T14:22:00.006-07:00

Title: This House Is Vegas
Genre: Drama
Characters: Philippé, Arrigo
Prompt: 43 ~ Memory
Word Count: Approx. 1027
Rating: PG-13 (just in case)
Type: Series
Summary: Philippé runs into Arrigo again.
Warnings: Language, slight sexual reference

Philippé couldn't believe it.

Was this moody, vulgar, volatile young man really the kid brother he had left behind all those years ago? His timid, wide-eyed little brother? Arrigo, the whining, sniveling bundle of blankets that had come home in place of their mother's bulging stomach one day, who had immediately stolen their parents' attention despite the fact that he was incapable of doing anything even remotely interesting? Arrigo, who had burst into Philippé's bedroom every time he woke from a nightmare at the most ridiculous of hours and had somehow managed to conquer the entire bed with his small, frail body? Arrigo, who had pleaded with puppy-dog eyes for Philippé to toss a football with him, only to find that he lacked the strength to do so for very long?

There had to have been a mistake. Perhaps he had heard wrong. Perhaps the men in the bar had been mistaken. It had been difficult enough to realize that his brother would have grown up at all--let alone so terribly that he was different person entirely.

"The fuck are you looking at?"

Case and point.

"I was just out for a walk, and I happened to recognize you," Philippé explained as Arrigo pulled himself into a sitting position. "Why are you sitting out here all by yourself? I would imagine the party is in the bar."

Arrigo shrugged. "Cops are in there. Figured I'd do old Dillon a favor by getting lost until they're gone."

Shameless--absolutely shameless.

Trying desperately to hold his tongue, Philippé gestured to the now empty half of the bench. "Mind if I sit down?"

"Does it matter?" his brother snarled. "You're going to anyway, aren't you?"

"Maybe."

No sooner had he sat down than Arrigo had squirmed toward the arm of the bench, as though keen to keep as much distance between them as possible; Philippé was vaguely reminded of the time their mother had taken them up to their uncle's farm and his three-year-old brother had encountered the friendly, but rather large and yappy dog.

"I don't bite," he muttered automatically, recalling what their uncle had said of the dog.

"You'd better not."

Philippé had to admit, he didn't quite understand this reply. "Sorry?"

Arrigo sighed. "Look, I get that by this point in your life, you must be quite frustrated. Let me help you out, okay?"

"Uh... okay?" Philippé both asked and answered at the same time, wondering what on earth it was the boy was talking about.

His brother nodded in the direction of the street by the store beside the bar. "See that girl over there?"

Frowning, Philippé's eyes fell upon the scantily-clad, heavily made-up teenage girl standing in the light's white glow. "Yeah. So?"

"She's a hooker," Arrigo informed him matter-of-factually.

Last time he'd seen Arrigo before returning to Middleburg, Philippé was not even sure that he himself--seven years his brother's senior--had known that word. "Uh... I figured."

"Then what are you waiting for?" the younger man urged him. "Obviously, you can't get any without opening your wallet, so go over there and get her to show you what you've been missing."

As he recalled, there had been several thoughts floating through Philippé's mind as he had first peered through the hospital window at the source of their mother's enlarged belly. Perhaps once or twice, he might have considered what sorts of conversations he would have with this red-faced, colicky creature once he was older, but never had he imagined anything like this. "Er... no thanks."

"Is it the money thing?" inquired Arrigo, as if that was the only possible reason for Philippé's refusal. "You know, Dillon at the bar is pretty good about lending money, just as long as you pay him back or help clean the bar or whatever."

Philippé rolled his eyes. "It's not the money thing; I just don't want to have sex with a teenage prostitute. Seriously, did Vinicio even bother to raise you?"

His eyes bulged at the sound of his own voice, but it was too late; he had already said too much.

"How do you know my dad's name?"

Well, so much for thinking he might have lucked out and gotten a 'What the hell? My dad's name is Jim' for his troubles."'Rigo..."

"My name too? What are you? Some kind of stalker or something?"

Philippé sighed. "I'm your brother."

It didn't seem like the sort of statement that would merit an immediate response, and Philippé had been right to assume that. Arrigo fell completely silent as he proceeded to gape wordlessly, his stunned expression eerily still and his inkblot eyes wide and fearful as they ever had been. If Philippé looked hard enough, he could almost see the five-year-old he left behind.

Then, suddenly, Arrigo looked away. Without saying a word, he rose to his feet and stared off into the distance.

"I didn't know when I ran into you earlier," Philippé continued, following suit and standing. "Some guy in the bar told me who you were. I never would have guessed otherwise."

Once more, there was no answer.

"Maybe I should have called you after that," he pressed on, "but you seemed so angry. I didn't know how you'd handle it--hell, I didn't even know how I was going to handle it. You're just... well, I guess I was just expecting to come home to a five-year-old kid," finished Philippé hurriedly. "Look, Arrigo..."

This time, there was a response--however, Arrigo's mouth had no involvement whatsoever.

"Hey!" he gasped as his younger brother's fist retreated from his face, leaving a stinging sensation as a parting gift. "What the hell was that for?"

And then, he caught sight of his brother's face. He might as well have been looking at an old photograph. It was the same crestfallen, timid expression. The same pouty lip. The same sad, pleading eyes of an abandoned puppy. This was his baby brother--exactly as he remembered him.

"You left me."

So he had--so he had.

Philippé gently placed his hand on Arrigo's arm and gave a small smile. "Come on, 'Rigo--let me walk you home."

NEXT PROMPT:

Prompt 17 -- Conspire

2009-09-05T23:13:00.003-07:00

Title: This House Is Vegas
Genre: Drama
Characters: Frankie, Donatella
Prompt: 17 ~ Conspire
Word Count: Approx. 317
Rating: PG-13 (just in case)
Type: Series
Summary: Frankie reviews his plans with his daughter.
Warnings: Language, suicide reference, sexual reference

"So... how's that husband of yours doin'?" Frankie Laguardia asked of his daughter, a slight sneer playing on his lips. "Drunk himself into liver failure yet, or no?"

Rolling her eyes, she snorted. "No. That would be the daughter's doing--considering how much the man consumes with her interference, I'm sure he'd be dead without it."

Frankie closed his eyes. "Good thing we don't need him dead, then... not saying we're screwed if he does kick the bucket, but still."

"Indeed," Donatella agreed. "So, how are things moving on your front?"

"Swimmingly," he assured her. "I been playin' her like a fiddle."

She smirked. "Oh really?"

"Would I lie to you?" demanded Frankie, somewhat insulted. "Look, I told Carmena that Vinicio's a bigamist. She's still gettin' over the shock, obviously, but it's only a matter of time before she marches up to his front door and demands a divorce. And then, where does she fall? That's right--into my arms."

"And then after you get her--and her share of the estate--I act all shocked, demand another divorce, and sue him for every remaining penny," she finished.

"You got that right--and if you want, you can even keep the son."

Donatella snorted disbelievingly. "As if! Look, the kid's good for a fuck, and since his father's obviously not up to it, he's a good backup for now, but after this stint is over... I don't really want to put up with that. He's a hot young piece of ass, and great in the sack, but what can I say? He's a nutcase! Vinicio once caught him with a loaded pistol in his mouth, you know."

"I thought the loaded pistol was in your mouth," Frankie teased with a wicked grin.

"Not for long," she assured him. "By the time this is over, we'll be fucking rich--and then we'll see where the loaded pistol is."

NEXT PROMPT:

Prompt 41 -- Sanctuary

2009-08-29T16:08:00.004-07:00

Title: This House Is Vegas
Genre: Drama
Characters: Arrigo, Leslie, Evadne, Chloe
Prompt: 41 ~ Sanctuary
Word Count: Approx. 681
Rating: PG (just in case)
Type: Series
Summary: Arrigo drops by for a visit.
Warnings: ...wow, none twice in a row? I must be going soft in my old age.

Arrigo quickly bounded up the steps of Evadne's back porch, only to find her mother lazing about on the swing. He found himself biting his lip; he liked Leslie Stavros well enough, and was eternally grateful to her for raising Chloe after Marisa's death, but he was not always certain exactly what she thought of him.

"Hello Leslie," he greeted her with a quick smile and as politely as he could manage.

Pulling herself to a sitting position, Leslie returned the grin. "Well, if it isn't Arrigo Morticelli. Two visits in a week? That's a first; since we hadn't seen hide nor hair of you since April, I was thinking you wouldn't be back until October."

"What can I say? I come and go with the wind?" replied Arrigo, choosing to ignore her likely well-merited sarcasm.

She shrugged. "Maybe we need a little more wind in these parts. Anyway, Chloe's in the living room, playing video games with Evadne."

"Thank you," he acknowledged her. "I'll go and see them, then."

"You do that," Leslie agreed. "Now, you just make sure you come around more often, you hear? I get that you're not much more than a kid yourself, Arrigo, but that girl deserves better than this."

"I know," Arrigo sighed. He didn't particularly appreciate the guilt trip--he got enough of that from his own heavy conscience--but at least she had the common courtesy to resist giving him some sort of after-the-fact lecture. Maybe she just realized that it was too late for anyway of that; he really wished more people thought that way.

"You'd better mean it."

"I do."

He sent one last grin her way, then proceeded through the door and into the house.

"Daddy!" Chloe exclaimed as Arrigo stepped into the living room, hastily dropping her controller and running toward him.

"Hey, be careful with that--it's expensive!" Evadne scolded her, though Arrigo took no notice; if a slight drop could break a game controller, he'd happily buy them a new one.

Chloe also ignored the older girl and flung her arms around Arrigo. "What are you doing here?"

"Visiting you, silly," he told her as he returned the hug. "Do I need another reason?"

Thoughtful, Chloe shook her head. "No. Daddy, do you want to play?"

"I'll just watch," he offered. "You'd have no fun playing that with me. I'm not good--beating me would be too easy."

"You can't possibly be worse than Evie."

Frowning, Evadne pulled herself to her feet as Chloe set herself back down on the couch, and placed the controller next to the console. "I can take a hint. Why don't you just play the one-player mode, Chlo?"

"Okay! Daddy, you sit next to me."

"Okay," Arrigo relented, falling back into the middle of the couch. Quietly, Evadne took a seat on his other side and they proceeded to watch as Chloe maneuvered her way throughout the mazes and puzzles of the game in a somewhat strained silence.

"She's getting rather good at this, isn't she?" he mused aloud after about fifteen minutes or so, not entirely sure if he had said it to make conversation or was just making sure that Evadne was actually still alive.

"Mmm," she hummed in agreement.

Arrigo raised an eyebrow. "You okay?"

"I'm fine," lied Evadne hastily.

Shaking his head, he turned slightly and placed his hand on her shoulder. "Liar. Come here."

After a brief moment's hesitation, she obliged. He inclined his head toward her slightly; he'd never noticed the refreshing scent of honeysuckle that loomed about her.

"You going to tell me, or what?" he asked softly as he instinctively pressed his forehead to hers.

Evadne sighed. "You're an idiot, 'Rigo."

"I thought that had already been clearly established. No need to state the obvious."

Laughing, she quickly embraced him, then pulled away and looked him in the eye.

"True," she admitted. "You got me. Happy now?"

Arrigo laughed; silly girl! "That's not it. If you don't want to talk about it, just say so."

"Okay. I don't want to talk about it."

"There; that wasn't so hard, was it?" he mused, gently patting her on the hand as she rested her head on his shoulder. "If you ever want to talk, Evie... just let me know, okay?"

Evadne giggled, prompting Arrigo to wonder how the same word could ever apply to the false laughs of the likes of Donatella. "Okay."

NEXT PROMPT:

Prompt 44 -- Slave

2009-08-23T19:42:00.003-07:00

Title: This House Is Vegas
Genre: Drama
Characters: Rachele, Arrigo
Prompt: 44 ~ Slave
Word Count: Approx. 513
Rating: PG (just in case)
Type: Series
Summary: Rachele becomes a confidante.
Warnings: Drug reference, sexual reference

"You're up early," Rachele teased as Arrigo barged into her room; it was about nine in the morning, and he rarely woke before noon. Also, when was the last time he'd been in her room? At least a year ago, she was sure of it. Something wasn't right.

She expected him to mutter a quick command of "Shut up", but instead, he pulled out her desk chair and sat down, then turned to face her.

"Rache," he began, wincing slightly, his features rather scrunched, "I did something stupid."

Rachele's eyes narrowed. "You? Really?"

"Shut up!" snapped Arrigo. "It's serious, okay?"

"Serious," repeated Rachele, disbelievingly. Arrigo was never serious; if it hadn't been for his condition, she would have been forced to admit that her brother was a total joke. "How serious? Are we talking 'snorted something out of a container marked corrosive' serious, or 'forgot a condom and knocked up the neighbor's wife' serious?"

"How about 'Rachele stops making light of the situation' serious?"

There was something about his stare that frightened her. Arrigo had a lot of different stares, and she was no stranger to most of them, but there was a certain intensity in this one, a distinct gravity that told her right then and there that she'd better shut up and listen. Only once had the look in those black eyes sent a stronger shiver down her spine, and just a single expression would she rather not see upon his face.

She'd been seconds away from losing him that day; she didn't want to think about that if she could help it.

"I stole seventy-four dollars out of a woman's purse."

"What?" she gasped. "'Rigo! You didn't!"

"I did," sighed Arrigo. "It was stupid, I know. You see... I was with Amy, and we needed some condoms..."

"What, seventy-four dollars worth?" Rachele demanded. "Even you can't have that much sex in one day!"

Arrigo shook his head. "Rache, I was just grabbing bills. Do you honestly think I counted before I got out of there? For all I knew, I had a fistful of ones."

"Regardless, I hope you're ashamed of yourself."

"Would I be telling you this if I wasn't?"

Before she could reply, he stood. "Sorry, Rache. I just thought maybe I'd feel better if I got it off my chest, and no one's more reliable than you."

"It's okay," she assured him.

He smiled quickly and superficially. "Okay. Well... I've got to be somewhere. I'll see you later, okay?"

She nodded.

Reliable. Was that all she was? For all she loved her brother and father, it sometimes seemed as though every aspect of her life revolved around them. It sucked, really, being the only well-adjusted person in the house; she had to be reliable, because it was a burden no one else even realized was necessary--or was willing to take up if they did. If she had any sense at all, she'd pack up her things and move in with Evadne's family, and Rachele had always prided herself on her good sense.

And yet, she stayed.

NEXT PROMPT:

Prompt 21 -- Greed

2009-08-16T14:47:00.002-07:00

Title: This House Is Vegas
Genre: Drama
Characters: Arrigo, Amy, Cecilia
Prompt: 21 ~ Greed
Word Count: Approx. 1122
Rating: PG-13 (just in case)
Type: Series
Summary: Arrigo and Amy need some money.
Warnings: Language, sexual references

Following Doug's arrest and Sofia's trip to the hospital, Arrigo had found himself frequently enjoying the company of Amy Patterson over the past week or so. While he had no plans to make their fling exclusive--hell, she was still technically with Doug, even though he was in jail--and their relationship was solely physical, they did have fun together, particularly since Amy had a wild desire for sex in as many public locations as possible.

Including, it seemed, a linen and bedding store owned by her own grandparents. Furious about the suspicious stain from the party, Amy's father had sent her to the store to buy a new bedspread for him and his common-law (he himself hadn't retained much of a relationship with his in-laws after his wife's death, it seemed, but obviously Amy and Leah were still given discounts at the store). Not wanting to go alone, Amy had called up Arrigo and asked if he would accompany her; since he didn't have any other plans at the time, he agreed.

And so it was that they had arrived at the store, and then promptly stolen away to one of the display beds to make out; they hadn't even looked at any of the bedspreads yet. Not that Arrigo had much reason to care, of course--he was all for making out wherever the hell she wanted, and if she didn't get the bedspread, that was her problem.

"So," she slurred as they parted lips, a devilish twinkle in her green eyes, "how about we take this a step further?"

Despite all he knew from experience with her, he had to raise an eyebrow. "Your grandma's still in the room, you know."

He gestured to the counter, behind which the elderly woman stood, talking on the phone just as she had been when they'd arrived a good ten minutes earlier.

Amy shrugged. "She hasn't even noticed we're here, 'Rigo. Besides, Grandma never spends less than an hour on a phone call, and in that hour, the whole world revolves around whatever conversation she's having. We could go fuck on the counter right in front of her and she wouldn't know the difference."

He found himself smiling, but as fate would have it, a woman walked into the store, her arrival signaled by the chimes that hung on the back of the door. "Fuck," he swore under his breath.

"You know, 'Rigo," Amy addressed him, her chartreuse eyes meeting his own, "there's an upstairs--and no one ever goes there."

Now that was more like it.

"Sounds good," he agreed with a grin. "You got a condom?"

She sighed. "We used my last one during that movie on Monday, remember?"

"Oh yeah," moaned Arrigo; he remembered the sex, but he wasn't exactly sure about the title of the movie. "Shit. My stepmother's been raiding my supply."

Or, more like helping me deplete it, he added to himself, but he did not care to admit that aloud.

Amy shook her head. "Fuck. Got any money? We could buy some?"

"I didn't bring my wallet," he grumbled. "You?"

"Just the money for the bedspread."

Damn. What to do? Now that the topic of sex had been breached, there was no way that they could not follow through with their plans--however, after what had happened to Marisa, Arrigo wasn't particularly keen on the whole lack of protection thing. Oh, if only one of them had a few bills on them...

A horrible idea planted itself in his head as he caught a glimpse of the only other customer in the store--or, more precisely, her large purse.

"Wait here until you see that woman leave the store," he muttered to Amy as he sprung himself from the bed. "When she goes, head upstairs. I'll meet you there as soon as I can."

He expected her to question--in fact, whatever was left of his good side wished she would--but she merely nodded. "Okay."

Fuck it, Amy, he thought bitterly as he trudged toward the stranger. You could have at least tried to talk me out of this, you know. Or maybe you wouldn't--maybe this is what you see in Doug. Damn, I just can't believe I'm actually doing this.

Maybe he should've turned around, and just ran home to steal some condoms or some money from his father, for at least he couldn't feel guilty about taking things from Vinicio. Perhaps it was a good thing that he already thought himself a bad person; otherwise, his opinion of himself would have dropped considerably.

Well, this was it. He'd done this before, but only ever to a partially inebriated Vinicio, and always in the house; now, he supposed he would learn whether or not he had any real skill.

"Oh my God!" he exclaimed, causing the woman to freeze. "I can't believe it! You, of all people, right here!"

She slowly turned around, but before she could do much else, he flung himself toward her, engulfing her in a tight hug. Startled, she raised her arms to awkwardly pat him on the back--leaving him ample room to reach into her purse, feel around for her wallet, and withdraw some amount of cash.

It was almost sickening, just how easy this was. He could have probably taken her wallet if he'd wanted to; maybe he could have even snatched her purse and booked it out of there. It seemed that he had found his second talent--pickpocketing.

Pickpocketing and fucking. He would go far in life, he was sure of it.

"Oh, I'm sorry," Arrigo apologized to the woman rather hurriedly--although not exactly for what he felt he should have been truly sorry for. "I thought you were someone else."

"Don't worry about it," she assured him with a smile. God, he'd been hoping she'd start screaming at him; now he had to live with the fact that he had just stolen from a decent person.

"No, really," he insisted, "I shouldn't have done that. Just me being stupid, I suppose. Anyway... have a nice day."

She sent him another grin--in spite of everything, he found her smile remarkably comforting. "You as well. Take care."

He shot a quick grimace her way, then headed for the door, his pace rather quicker than usual, he noted.

Well, Arrigo, he began to lecture himself as he proceeded through the door, you just stole some money from a nice lady so you can buy some condoms and therefore fuck Amy. You're just a greedy, heartless bastard, aren't you? Fuck you. You're going to burn in hell, you know.

And yet, for some reason, he found himself smiling as he hadn't smiled in years.

NEXT PROMPT:

Prompt 30 -- Angel

2009-08-08T23:45:00.002-07:00

Title: This House Is Vegas
Genre: Drama
Characters: Rachele, Tuomo, Markus
Prompt: 30 ~ Angel
Word Count: Approx. 831
Rating: PG (just in case)
Type: Series
Summary: Rachele spends some time with her ex.
Warnings: Mild language

"You want anything?" asked Tuomo from the fridge, frantically shuffling items about in search of something readily edible. "If I can find something that's not expired, that is."

"No thanks, I'm good," Rachele assured him; there was a distinct odor coming from the direction of the open refrigerator that told her quite clearly that she would be all the wiser to hold out until she got home.

"Okay, suit yourself."

He closed the door and collapsed beside her on the couch, tearing open the bag of chips he'd managed to find and promptly stuffing his face.

Eying the package suspiciously, Rachele frowned. "You keep potato chips in your fridge?"

"My sister keeps putting them in there," he explained. "For some reason, she's decided she likes them cold."

Rachele sighed. "Kids these days. Which sister is this?"

"Astrid. The younger one. She's the same age as your niece."

She had to marvel at the differences between her family and his. Tuomo had siblings who were the same age or younger than Rachele's brother's daughter--and Rachele's brother was a few months younger than Tuomo. Both the Akermans and the Morticellis, she supposed, came across as weird these days, but for very different reasons.

"So... wanna see if there's somethin' on TV?" he suggested, not bothering to swallow before speaking.

She knew it was rude, but she couldn't help but yawn. "No. There's nothing on at this time of day. And don't talk with your mouth full--it's disgusting."

"Maybe I'm disgusting."

"Well, at least you're aware of it."

He opened his mouth to reply, but he was immediately cut off by a baby's cry from the next room.

"Well, that would be one of the twins," Tuomo sighed. "Probably hungry, as usual."

"They obviously don't know that your mom's not home," grumbled Rachele. She'd never exactly been a baby person, and it was things like the persistent crying that annoyed her most about them; she liked people who knew when to shut it.

Groaning, Tuomo tossed the bag of chips onto the coffee table and pulled himself to his feet, starting off in the direction of the babies' room. "That's why they invented formula, genius. Anyway, I'd better get him fed before he wakes the other one. Help yourself to the chips if you want."

Despite herself, she smiled. "Why in the hell would I want chips that have been in the fridge?"

"Why the hell not?"

"It's gross," Rachele moaned, taking advantage of Tuomo's absence and stretching out on the couch. "Besides, they smell funny."

"Suit yourself," he called back to her as he vanished from sight.

Seriously... chips in the fridge? She really hoped Chloe was smarter than Astrid in that regard--if she wasn't, then it was a good thing that the girl didn't live with Rachele. Actually, now that she thought about it, there could be nothing worse for Chloe than living in her house; what four-year-old deserved to be exposed to Vinicio's perpetual drunken oblivion, Arrigo's frequent episodes, and Donatella blatantly flaunting her sexuality every which way? There were many words and phrases that described the Morticelli house, but 'family-friendly' was not one of them. Chloe would have almost been better off living with the Akermans and their bawling babies and refrigerated chips.

Almost.

"Oh good, you left me some," Tuomo teased as he stepped back into the room, one of his baby brothers in his arms.

"Yeah, consider yourself lucky," sneered Rachele. "Is that Henrik, or Markus?"

Tuomo shook his head. "Markus... as usual. I should've known it was Markus."

"Why do you say that?" she inquired as he stepped into the kitchen and pulled a bottle from the fridge.

"It's always Markus; he's the evil twin."

Rachele raised an eyebrow. "Don't be stupid, Tuomo."

"What? It's true," he insisted. "See? He spends all that time crying and nearly wakes his brother, and now he won't even eat, the scheming little mastermind. Mark my words, he'll achieve world domination one day."

"He's a baby, Tuomo. He eats, cries, and defecates; he is not 'scheming'."

"Oh yeah?" he challenged her, hastily placing the bottle back in the fridge. "Why don't you come over here and judge for yourself?"

She stood, then made her way around the couch and stared at the baby. Tuomo smirked. "Rachele, meet your future dictator."

Despite what Tuomo said, Markus was probably the least evil thing she'd ever seen. In fact, he looked just like a baby version of his brother--blond, blue-eyed, and blissfully untroubled. God, the kid was just like everyone else in that whole damn family that way, and just the opposite everyone in her own.

"Your brother's an idiot, Markus," she told him; she'd always felt like a moron talking to babies, but for some reason, it came naturally with this one. "You're not the evil twin. You're an angel--just like everyone else who lives here."

Tuomo chuckled. "He's thinking that you'll be the first to go, Rache."

NEXT PROMPT:

Prompt 28 -- Garden

2009-08-02T21:16:00.002-07:00

Title: This House Is Vegas
Genre: Drama
Characters: Chloe, Arrigo
Prompt: 28 ~ Garden
Word Count: Approx. 779
Rating: PG (just in case)
Type: Series
Summary: Chloe gets a visit from her dad.
Warnings: Mild drug reference

Chloe's house had a large yard, but despite this, Aunt Leslie had only ever bothered to plant two tiny bushes, tucked away by the porch stairs. To Chloe, this seemed like a waste of space. Perhaps there could have been a tree or two, maybe with a tree-house in one of them. Maybe there could have been flower beds, or hedges shaped like animals, or vines crawling up a lattice to the balcony above.

But no... just the bushes, and the grass. What a pathetic garden!

Next year, Aunt Leslie always said, Maybe next year. But 'next year' always came and went, and still, there was never anything new. Next year, she would sit out here again, looking at the endless expanse of grass, knowing full-well that it would remain for the year after, during which she would do just the same.

And yet, there was always that tiny bit of hope that one of these years, 'next year' would finally arrive.

Suddenly, the door swung open with such a force that set the swing upon which Chloe sat rocking. Startled, her hand flew to the rope and clenched it tightly, the rough twine burning against her palm like a hot coal. "Ow!" she yelped, hastily releasing it, studying the red marks on her hand.

"You okay there, Chlo?"

She was now--she knew that voice.

"Daddy!" Chloe exclaimed, leaping from the swing and slinging herself into his arms. "I haven't seen you since Easter!"

He and Aunt Rachele had come to Chloe's house for Easter this year. They'd arrived early in the morning, before Chloe was even awake, but for some reason, they never saw the Easter Bunny hide the little chocolate eggs all throughout the house. Neither had Evadne, for that matter--but Aunt Leslie had. In fact, Aunt Leslie claimed that she'd seen three Easter Bunnies hiding the eggs and filling the baskets, but Chloe wasn't sure she believed her. Everyone knew that there was only one Easter Bunny--and he was a fluffy white bunny, unlike the two dark bunnies and the one red-haired bunny that her aunt had said had been there. And of course, even if there were three Easter Bunnies, and even if they were dark and red, there was no way that two of them wore glasses.

"I know," he told her as he released her. "God, you've grown! Every time I see you, you're taller and prettier--I guess it won't be long before I have to start beating up all your boyfriends, will it?"

Chloe snorted. "I won't have any boyfriends! Boys are stupid!"

"That's my girl!" her daddy sighed in relief. "Still... you're growing like a weed, you know?"

"So's your beard," she teased him. "Don't you shave anymore?"

He shrugged. "Haven't bothered for the past few days. Anyway, how've you been these past few months?"

"Mmm... okay. Nothing's really happened, though, except Aunt Sofia going to the hospital."

"How's she doing?" asked her father, his head tilting slightly.

"Okay, I guess. Aunt Leslie won't tell me what happened to her, though."

"She, uh... took some bad pills," he explained, filling her in as he always did. "Chloe, you promise me that you'll only ever take pills that a doctor gives you, and never more than what they tell you to, okay?"

Chloe nodded; she didn't like pills anyway. "Okay. Do you have a present for me?" Aunt Leslie and Uncle Silas had always told her that it was rude to ask for presents, but her dad was usually very good about giving them.

"Sorry, Chlo--all I have today are tickles!" he cackled, lunging at her suddenly and playfully tickling her.

"Daddy!" she squealed between giggles. "That's annoying!"

He laughed as he released her. "Haven't you learned by now, Chlo? I'm annoying."

She shook her head; in truth, she didn't see enough of him to find him annoying. "No, you're just silly."

"Well, yeah, that too," he agreed with a smile. "Anyway, I have a while before I have to leave, so do you want to do something, or what?"

Excited, Chloe couldn't help but jump slightly; these opportunities were rather few and far between. "Let's go on the swings. And not the porch swing--the fun swings."

"Sounds good," her father answered as they made their way down the porch steps. "You want me to push you?"

"No, Uncle Silas taught me how to push myself," she told him proudly.

He frowned. "I thought I was going to teach you that. Didn't I say I would?"

"Yeah, but I got tired of waiting."

He didn't really say much after that, but she was too happy to notice.

NEXT PROMPT:

Prompt 16 -- Death

2009-07-24T17:49:00.004-07:00

Title: This House Is Vegas
Genre: Drama
Characters: Arrigo, Marisa, Rachele, Donatella
Prompt: 16 ~ Death
Word Count: Approx. 1621
Rating: R (just in case)
Type: Series
Summary: Arrigo is haunted.
Warnings: Some language, suicidal musings, mild drug use, partial nudity

Just how long he had been in the shower, Arrigo had no idea. He vaguely remembered Rachele knocking on the door, hollering at him to hurry up--but exactly how long ago that had been, he couldn't really be sure. There was something incredibly mind-numbing about showers, he found, some ethereal magic that cast its victim into a blank, utterly carefree state with the turn of a tap. The water flowed, but time did not.

God, this was the ultimate high, the water running down his body, the steam wafting about him and causing his eyelids to flicker. Who needed alcohol when there were showers? Who needed drugs when there were showers? There were even some occasions, he mused, when a good shower was even better than sex. At least the shower doesn't lie through its teeth in order to see you naked, doesn't plunge you into a tangled web of emotions you couldn't even name, doesn't rip your heart out when you learn it never really loved you.

And with that in mind... really, showers beat family too.

At least, his family.

Speaking of which, Rachele was back, banging on the door again. "'Rigo!" she snarled from the hallway; he ignored her. "'Rigo, come on! I have to be somewhere in two hours, and you didn't take your meds today!"

Oh, to hell with the fucking meds! He didn't need pills; he needed a shower. A shower was a cure for anything.

Besides, there were three other showers in the house, and no one was stopping Rachele from using one of those.

I could die here, he thought as he felt the plug between his toes. Perhaps he would push it shut, let the water pool into the tub until it overflowed. Maybe he would lie down, curl up, and let the steam sing him to sleep. By the time the water rushed through the crack beneath the door, he would be long gone; they would find him peaceful, content, as he very rarely was.

But no... someone had died in this shower. No, that wasn't right--someone had died because of this shower... because of him and this shower...

Now, there was a young woman without a sister, and a little girl without a mother, all because of him. If it had instead been he who had died, no one would have even pretended to miss him--but as it had not been, there was suffering.

He no longer wanted to stay in that shower. Quickly, he turned off the water and stepped out, careful not to trip over the wall of the tub; there were many ways to die, but being flung head-first into a cabinet did not seem like a particularly pleasant one.

Oh well; even if that was how he had to go, there were worse ways. He'd never have to worry about dying in childbirth, that he knew... even if he did deserve just that.

It had all started in this very bathroom, he supposed. He'd only been a kid at the time--young, troubled, and as blissfully naive as a son of Vinicio could ever hope to be. His father had been out of town for the weekend, on a little romantic getaway with... Kaori, he thought it was? Yes, it must have been Kaori. Rachele was spending a few nights at her aunt's house. Arrigo was supposed to have flown to New York the day after they'd all left, to visit his uncle, but he'd called and told him there had been a change of plans; after everything, he couldn't bear to face his mother's family.

Besides, this way he could throw a party... and of course, one of the guests was the lovely Marisa Stavros.

He'd found her in the bathroom while everyone else was doing their thing throughout the rest of the house. Here she was, curled up on the floor, her eyes closed, just forgetting that she was a part of the world,

"Marisa?" he'd ventured cautiously, not entirely sure as to whether or not she was aware of his presence. "Marisa, are you okay?"

For a moment, she was silent. Maybe she didn't want company--maybe she just wanted him to drop off the face of the earth and die. In those few seconds, looking at her, as sad as she was... if she'd asked, he would have.

"I'm fine," she muttered at last, just as he was about to turn away. "Why are you here?"

He distinctly remembered tossing his cigarette into the bathtub as she rose to her feet. "Nothing," he insisted. "I just... noticed you weren't downstairs, and I was wondering if you'd left."

There was no use lying to her--he couldn't if he tried.

Vinicio had always said that there was no beauty in tragedy. Arrigo, however, did not agree; the mere sight of Marisa was evidence otherwise. She was someone who had been torn apart, ripped to shreds, broken beyond conceivable repair.

And yet, somehow, each cracked, jagged piece of her had the divinity of any whole person he had ever seen--even more.

He wanted to remember what was said, what was done... but he could not. It seemed that such memories were too precious for his worthless head.

All he knew was that somehow, things had gone a certain way. Maybe he'd been charming; maybe she'd been vulnerable. Maybe they'd simply been bored.

If he thought hard enough, he could vaguely recall hesitating slightly before it began. Wasn't she sacred? Hadn't she been his brother's girl at one point? Wasn't she the only girl he could see himself wanting to actually do things with on levels other than the physical?

In retrospect, he shouldn't have done it. He should have just walked away. But hey, he'd been no more than a kid--who was he to know that his night with her would come at the cost of her life?

He'd uncovered an old wound and could not find a bandage. Maybe this was why he felt the need to drink so much, smoke so much, fuck so many of the wrong sort of girls, anything that would make him good and stupid for a few sweet hours--whatever he did to himself, nothing could possibly more dangerous than his own unsuppressed mind.

He bent down to open the cabinet and removed a bottle of ibuprofen. Slowly, he unscrewed the lid, shook loose a handful of tablets, and popped them into his mouth. They weren't too strong, that he knew, but at the moment, they were all he had.

Sighing, he kicked the cabinet door shut and stared into the mirror. His reflection looked just as miserable as it always did. He tried to grin--he could barely manage a grimace. Frantically, he tried to remember the last time he'd seen his own smile; he couldn't even remember what it looked like.

Maybe it was just this room; maybe it housed so many ghosts he just couldn't help but fade into one himself. Perhaps he would be best served if he just got out of here.

As if it were a sign, Rachele knocked again. "'Rigo! Hurry it up!"

"Right!" he called back as he pulled on the pair of jeans he'd thrown on the floor earlier. He made his way to the hall door, unlocked it, and then proceeded through the other door into his bedroom, only to find that someone had been waiting for him.

It was his stepmother, wearing nothing but a bra and a pair of panties.

"Good morning, 'Rigo," she slurred from the bed. "Have a nice shower?"

He didn't really know how to answer that question. "Uh... I guess."

She made use of her standard response--giggling. "Silly boy! Well... sit down."

He had nothing better to do, so he did. "How was my father this morning? Did he leave before I got up again?"

"Yeah," she answered promptly. "You know all he does is work and drink, 'Rigo. Why did you need to ask?"

Arrigo shrugged. "I don't know."

Donatella's sly eyes ran their course over his body, one sculpted eyebrow arched suspiciously. "Don't want to risk getting caught, do you? You naughty boy!"

On the contrary, he almost wished he would get caught; it would give him an excuse to put an end to this, and maybe give his father a wake-up call at the same time.

"Yeah, I guess that's it," he lied. "Rachele's in the next room, though; what if she hears?"

Donatella didn't seem overly concerned. "Rachele is a Morticelli. You all spend a ridiculous amount of time in the shower."

"Yeah, maybe you're right."

They spent the next few minutes in silence. The way Arrigo saw it, maybe if he stayed quiet for long enough, she would grow bored and perhaps leave him alone. Unfortunately, however, it seemed that she had made up her mind and was sticking by her decision.

Resigned, he turned around and fell back onto the pillow, staring up at the dangling ceiling light that swayed slightly in the breeze of the air vent. "When was the last time you slept with my father?"

He glanced over at Donatella as her eyes narrowed. "Does it matter?"

"No," he replied hastily. "I was just curious."

Maybe he would just tell Vinicio... but how would he word that? Hey Dad, just so you know, I'm fucking your wife behind your back because she's stalking me and I can't be bothered to tell her off... somehow, that just didn't sound right. He'd have to tweak it a bit.

"'Rigo?"

Trying to grin, he gently placed his arm around her and stared into the hungry voids of her dark eyes. "Yes?"

She didn't say anything--she simply smiled.

"You know, sometimes I get the feeling that you want something from me," he teased, painfully aware of the truth in his statement.

There was much infernal giggling once again; Arrigo knew only one way to make it stop.

NEXT PROMPT:

This House Is Vegas

Table of Contents

Prompt 1 -- Beginnings

Prompt 14 -- Lovers

Prompt 31 -- Sunrise

Prompt 47 -- Paranormal

Prompt 13 -- Passion

Prompt 7 -- Enemies

Prompt 18 -- Colorless

Prompt 4 -- Lost

Prompt 3 -- Broken

Prompt 24 -- Secret

Prompt 32 -- Sunset

Prompt 23 -- Sin

Prompt 15 -- Hatred

Prompt 50 -- Paranoia

Prompt 45 -- Enigma

Prompt 12 -- Forgiveness

Prompt 22 -- Love

Prompt 42 -- Deception

Prompt 27 -- Solitude

Prompt 46 -- Dawn

Prompt 33 -- Honor

Prompt 2 -- Ends

Prompt 5 -- Door

Prompt 48 -- Chaos

Prompt 10 -- Dark

Prompt 9 -- Light

Prompt 26 -- Fragile

Prompt 6 -- Choice

Prompt 35 -- Sixth Sense

Prompt 43 -- Memory

Prompt 17 -- Conspire

Prompt 41 -- Sanctuary

Prompt 44 -- Slave

Prompt 21 -- Greed

Prompt 30 -- Angel

Prompt 28 -- Garden

Prompt 16 -- Death