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Soi Brothers â€" Part 3

Written and copyright Raistlinhawke, 2009

"Drake?" asked a weak voice from the bedroom, "is that you?"

The gecko struggled to get the front door lodged into place long enough to lock it. After finally getting the key turned, he threw a quick response over his shoulder as he tossed his jacket atop the pile of magazines that kept the laundry bin lid shut.

"Yeah, mom," said Drake, "Just got back from seeing Alex back into town. When did you get home?"

A frail moan echoed from the back of the mobile home hitch, "About an hour ago, the shifts just aren't getting easier."

Drake nodded to himself, his mother was far too nice a person, covering shifts and putting in overtime without a second thought. He'd be pissed, if the restaurant didn't tack on the extra cash to her paycheck as quickly as they did.

"Did you manage your pills?" the gecko asked, concern automatically setting in.

"No," replied his mother, in a pained whine, "I just wanted to sit down for a second, and now it hurts too much to try and get up."

Drake shook his head. She wasn't faking, he knew that, but this gluttony for punishment she seemed to have made him bypass his better judgment at times.

"You have to take them when the pain first starts," he demanded, for the thousandth time, "the doctor said they're slow, you're still going to be in pain for a while before these ones sink in."

Drake was halfway to the kitchen when his mother pleaded for the appropriate medication. Five seconds of mindless routine later, the gecko pushed the bedroom door open with his hip and entered with a TV tray, a weekly pill container and can of diet cola balanced on top of it.

"Oh, thank you." His mom said, the gratefulness seeping into every syllable. It made reprimanding her even more difficult.

"Mom," Drake said as took a seat on the edge of the bed, setting the TV tray on her lap, "we can't afford this type of prescriptions if you don't take them as ordered." Picking up the bottle and shaking it to emphasize his point. "It's a hundred and thirty dollars a bottle, if it's not going to make you better..."

"I know," his mother sighed, "the cramps are just so terrible when I finally get my uniform off."

Drake sighed, their financial insecurities floating through his mind. "I know mom," he said, patting her leg, "just...try to get some rest now."

Shutting the door behind him, he shook his head again. "It's not fair."

He never had much growing up, it just seemed impossible to get out of this hole of a social class he was born into. He had been on welfare, but the shame at having to rely on the program made him go into practical starvation to get the least amount of benefits, to avoid feeling like a complete failure.

Rubbing the back of his neck, he was abruptly reminded of the pain that he had been having as his foot connected with the sharp exposed edge of the dryer.

"Shit!" he grimaced, picking up his throbbing right foot and inspecting the bottom of it. There, between the big and second toe, was the exposed skin that was the result of his latest gig, the raw flesh a light red with the blood clot beneath it.

"Goddamn metal churches," he cursed, flexing his toes against the pain, "I gotta tell Nathan to stick with paper or something."

Shaking off the irritation, he nabbed another can of diet cola from the fridge and squeezed himself into his room. The stuffy side room to the mobile home was barely enough for his bed, stereo, and computer setup; and with his extremely messy habits, the thick layer of clothing and discarded food containers made it difficult to walk in what little floor space remained.

Flopping into his desk chair, he booted up his desktop and automatically clicked his way into logging into Dynasty Kingdom, his massive multiplayer online role-playing game of choice. As the town he had last saved in loaded around his avatar, a subtle ping sound effect let him know he was not alone in playing. Once the town of Alth'garon had buffered, a small window rose from the status bar at the bottom of the screen, listing those on his friends list who were currently online.

Seeing his favorite name lit up on the list, he happily double-clicked as he fiddled with his head-set, barely able to get it plugged in and functional by the time a smooth, soft voice came through his speakers.

"Heya Drake," the casual female voice said, "Are you in for the night, or is this just a quick few quests before something more important?"

The gecko smiled to himself, already adopting a more lofty speech pattern as he responded, "Nothing is more important to me than our sessions, Jil, things just seem to..." he tossed a look in the direction of his mother's room, the sound of light snoring filtering through the thin walls, "...come up."

"I haven't doubted your commitment yet, gecko." Cooed Jil, tossing his species out like a pet name, "what do you say we equip some heavy armor and join in that 7 o'clock raid?"

Drake smiled, "Yeah," he said as he shut the door, making sure to use his left foot, "I think I'm ready for some Drake time."

******************

Soi Brothers â€" Part 4

Written and copyright Raistlinhawke, 2009

"Lemme know when you start pounding the pavement!" Todd called from over his shoulder as he made the trek across the street to his house.

Alex offered a stiff nod in reply, turning around when he heard Ax's garage door open in a slow, mechanical groan. Making sure to grab his jacket, the wotter shut the passenger door to the car, throwing the black hoodie over his shoulders as he ducked into the garage.

"Thanks again for convincing your parents to let me stay in the room," he called as the mantis already began climbing the stairs to the house proper. "No way I could afford my own place with San Ristas price...not until I got another steady paycheck under my belt."

"Right, because you aren't paying rent or anything," Ax's sardonic reply came from the top of the staircase, "They had the room open for rent for months before you graduated, there was no favor here. Oh, and make sure to grab a couple root beers before you get up here, nothing cold in the fridge."

Alex scuttled up the first few steps to the small landing, grabbing a couple glass bottles from their bulk packaging before hitting the door close button. As the garage door began to wheeze its way shut, he bounded up the rest of the steps to the living room.

"Ah, you're back." Alex heard the soft voice of Ax's dad from the kitchen, "Don't forget, you and I need to move the cinder blocks in the backyard."

Alex had already turned the corner into the dining room to see Ax in his doorframe, talking about work to his father, who stood in the alcove of the kitchen, washing some dishes in the sink. Alex never understood the shop talk between the father and son, it always seemed to include moving objects he never saw them make any use of.

The wotter jostled the fridge open with his side, fitting the root beer bottles into a wedge between the milk and creamer before shutting the door. He turned to be greeted by Ax's dad, who was now standing in the middle of the tile floor, wiping his paws with a ragged dish towel.

"Did Angie go over the details with you?" the tired looking coyote mused, referencing his wife.

"Um...yeah, over the phone and when I first arrived." Alex responded, always feeling interrogated when talking to the elder canine. "Rent's on the third, no guests without prior notice, and keep quiet after 11, right?"

Ax's father nodded, tossing the dish towel to the counter, "Good, good." The two stood awkwardly still for a few moments, before Alex took the initiative and dismissed himself with a short wave. The wotter then made his way to Ax's room, leaning against the wall as he watched the mantis type on his laptop.

"Your dad isn't th -" he began, cut off almost robotically by Ax.

"Door," the mantid simply said, the bedroom entryway still wide open. Alex shook his head, always forgetting the simple courtesy. After shutting the door, he walked over to Ax's waterbed, slumping down onto the edge.

"Your dad was never the conversational type, was he?" he asked, "At least, not to me."

"Not to anyone," the mantis replied, his wide eyes not leaving his laptop screen, "Never was much of a talker, we only ever discuss business."

Alex nodded to himself, tapping his paws against his knees, "So....got any plans for the rest of the day?" The wotter still had a lot to unpack, his lack of access to his laptop combined with his laziness to really open up his immediate schedule.

"Actually man, I really do have to help my dad in a few," Ax said, throwing a look over his computer, "He's a bit pissed at my lack of work these past few days."

Alex grimaced accordingly, "Yipes. I'll leave you to it then." The wotter picked himself up from the bed and shuffled out of the room, taking care to shut the door tightly, squeezing the warped wood into the doorframe with an added pull.

Walking the few steps to his room, he opened the door to find his stuff in a massive luggage pile in the center of the guest room. Sighing, he flopped down on the couch next to the desk space, cupping his paws behind his head and gazing up at the ceiling.

As the emotional high of the pizza dinner began to slowly diminish, Alex's thoughts returned to his predicament. He couldn't help but consider himself a failure: not being able to get a job after graduation, forced to move out of his apartment when he couldn't find another roommate to split the cost, having to move back to his home town on doctor's orders...the wotter gritted his teeth at the memories.

It wasn't that he had missed a particular life goal for himself, he had always just thought he would be able to continue right on into a job after finishing college, at least one able to pay rent and loan reparations as he weighed career options. It just seemed like a natural progression, one even his low opinion of himself could see him completing. Not meeting this seemingly basic landmark in his life demolished what little self-esteem he had built up since leaving high school, to the point that the co-workers on his site weren't even aware of his displacement. The world had exploded in size once he had his paws on a diploma, seeing so much more insurmountable now that he had left his social and financial safety bubble.

Alex could already feel the anxiety bubbling up in his mind, beginning to stab and poke his insides in an almost tangible way. Grimacing against the emotional weakness he couldn't help but despise, Alex propped himself up against his knees, staring off into space for a few moments before sliding off the couch.

In the pocket of his jacket he fished out a small cigarette case, unclasping it and retrieving a single cigarette-like stick. Replacing the case in his hoodie, the wotter opened the door to the outside patio, finding a secure spot behind the house to flick his lighter and set fire to the tip of the cig. The pungent, unmistakable marijuana odor reached his nostrils before he could even take a drag, the wotter taking a deep inhalation of the accompanying smoke as the cig touched his lips.

Savoring the first taste he had partaken since the taxi cab to the O.C. airport, Alex decided to occupy himself by checking his messages. Scrolling through his cell phone's menus, he couldn't be less surprised by its contents. Flashing on the screen were several message notifications from his aunt, mother, and grandmother, three people drastically worried about him in an insufferably claustrophobic way. Their concern only added to his emotional weight, the wotter unable to shake the feeling that he failed his family too in this inability.

Crossing his arms, he closed his cell and pocketed it; no way could he deal with any of that at the moment. Closing his eyes, he tried to picture where in the city he could stomach working. The fast food restaurants always had open spaces, the humiliation of working there an extra benefit along with the hairnets. Ghetto Cave Records could have an opening, but his lack of music knowledge made him unsure of his potential there. Video Circuit would be an absolute ideal, the independent video store chain a haven for him and his friends all through high school. But their employment process always seemed to root out those with piercings, tattoos, dye jobs, and a sense of unalienable cool that Alex just didn't possess.

It was then that Alex remembered his ulterior duties, causing him to slam his fist into the wall in frustration. He had to find a supplier for his video game reviews, someone willing to get into contract with his site and the publishers to act as a hub for them to send games to him through. While a major video and several video game chains existed within a couple miles, Alex remembered the absolute nightmare of working through three separate piles of red tape to set this up in his last place, the images of the torturous paperwork just becoming the tip of his ice berg.

Growling, Alex visualized the work load ahead of him as he sucked out the remaining inch of his cig, flicking it to the ground and stomping it out. Blowing twin puffs of smoke from his nostrils, he tried to build up the courage to rifle through his possessions to get to his laptop and start work.

"Here we go," he told himself, turning back to the door to his room. His paw on the handle, he immediately began to second guess himself, the massive amount of things to do pressing in on him. Succumbing, he decided to forgo working for a minute, after all, he deserved a break from all the moving.

"In a minute," he told himself, "I'll start in a minute." The wotter then walked the few feet to the patio door leading to the kitchen. He was going to check if any of the root beers were cold yet.