May 23

When I was fifteen, I got into my first fight. Although, I'll have to say it wasn't very fair to begin with.

Jorge DeMarcus had the mentality of a five year old, and the body of a line-backer even at that age. He was the leader of a group of thugs who'd dent your face in if you so much as breathed. He was "interested" in one of my friends, and I steered her away. Now, he was after me.

They had chased after me right at the bell, hoping to catch me, but I was too fast. I knew the dark alleys and narrow streets like the back of my hand. I nearly passed out when I slammed our front door shut. My head was spinning and my lungs were burning. And what was worse, I knew I was home alone.

What happened between then and when I was taken to the hospital is all kind of a blur. I was told that Jorge had gotten his hands on his father's buckshot rifle and that I was lucky I missed the majority of the shrapnel, but he clipped my left arm something fierce.

An event like that would have made anyone abhor guns, but I embraced them. Their power, their quickness. One shot to any of your vital organs usually meant you were done. For my eighteenth birthday, my father gifted me his most prized possession - his old fashioned, black revolver.

What are you going to call her, he said. Guns are like your children. You take care of them, you clean them, and you keep them close to you.

Luvvie, I said. Her name is Luvvie.

And oh, how faithfully she's served me.

June 4

The hardest things about what I do aren't the actual act of doing it. It's the thoughts that follow.

Each person: man, woman, even child in some cases; they all have families. They all have hearts, they all have ideas, they all have dreams. And they all have people that love them, despite who they are. Even I have that.

So what gives me the right to take that away from them? I wouldn't want someone stripping that away from me all in the manner of a second. I've looked down barrels of guns before, and I don't like those parts of my life that flash before my eyes.

But what can you do? They are my family. Maybe we're not as perfect as some, but... we make do with what we have. We look out for our own. I'll do what's needed to protect them with everything I have...

Because I know those that I take down wouldn't hesitate to do the same to me.

June 28

I've been asked why I never smile, and I still can't come up with the answer. The closest I can get is that my face has forgotten how. "How can someone so pretty be so angry?" they ask me. "It's easy," I reply, "I just am."

In our world, smiles are a tool, not an expression. Smiles are everything, smiles are nothing. Smiles bring joy, smiles bring sadness. A smile could mean the difference between life or death. And a smile can set you free. There are so many ways it can be used and used against you, I think I've just taken away their tool to prevent complications.

But I smiled tonight. It hurt, but.. it felt good at the same time.

Andre shared something with me that only two other people know. Something deep, and something sacred. I was surprised. I didn't know he trusted me that much. In the same situation, I wouldn't. Not in a million years. Hell.. I hardly trust the rest of my Family as it is.

I wonder sometimes if he's just that stupid, or am I just that cold? Regardless, he did trust me. And I will honor that.

July 6

The days are winding down, less than a month left. The calendar on my wall, with the red X's laughs at me from a distance, always reminding me. I tore it down and threw it out.

I wonder if I can handle it any better than I did last year. The year before that? I don't know. I've already lost it once this month.

'Cisco's here, he tried to help.. But the only good thing: Alek's back in town. Even if he doesn't ever answer his damned phone. At least I can try to find him.

Fio has already been irritated with me, I screwed things up with Andre and I'm pretty sure he'll be wanting to send someone after me.. My associate initiated a three foot restraining order..

Everything's falling apart, I'm falling apart.

Help me...

July 1st

"Serpiente gorda", El numero boss man, is very upset. His latest shipments were not of satisfactory standards, and has come to me in requesting I find him new hardware.

This damages "El Suave"'s name. How dare he drag it through the mud like a pig.

But, being the kind-hearted individual that I am, I am already in hopeful search. "Rye Vaun" has come to me in hopes I could assist in a matter, as well; and his crew is heavily packed with firearms. Surely they will not miss much if "El Suave" steps in for an evening?

Being the medium in the never-ending cycle of lifestyles is not easy. But I will most certainly say this: It can't be ever more rewarding.

By tomorrow I plan on seeking advice from Noni. She must have somebody that supplies her with ammunition. Two birds with one stone, and we're free as birds.

I miss the homestead. The other day I was reminded of my angel who dried herself off on the beach, with her luscious skin making my own crawl with goosebumps. Glorious. Those here are appealing on the grounds of "Five dollar?" levels. No woman can beat somewhere like "Pinamar" beach! They are classy acts; a hot salsa.

Oy, soon "El Suave".

Soon.

July 7

Strength. Like smiles, it means so many different things. There are so many different kinds..

Does strength mean the same thing as self control? I wonder if I have it.

I know Fio does, and I both hate and love her for that. I look at myself, then I look at her and I think "opposites." She's intimidating and flawless. I've been told I'm intimidating too, but I really don't believe it.

Sometimes I think I have it all together, and then others feel like I just want to kill someone. I've heard we all feel that way sometimes and that it's just life.. The thing is.. I don't ever remember being this horrible.

Alek nearly got himself killed last night. And we're sharing a room now. I'm glad that something in my life doesn't make my head feel like it's going to explode.

July 16

I am home now. And I'm in my bedroom as I'm writing this.

Is it bad that I wished I had missed this place more than I really did?

The Estate became something of a dream over the past few days. Something I didn't have to go back to.

Good old Vladimir kept calling. Saying that he missed having me around. That he missed having company when he had to do the deeds.

I swear, for a man, he talks storms when you don't want him to.

He kept giving me updates on things I didn't ask about. He told me of Fio's newest purchases or what Fio had been up to that he was aware of.

Fio and I are fluent in the game of telling Vladimir what we want, and hiding whatever else. Father was too lazy to use a magnifying glass on us.

I wish he hadn't told me about the grounds. I wish he wouldn't call me all the time. Because with every phone call...With every ridiculous detail he shares with me or some comment he tells me...

He always ends his phone calls with the same thing. He always asks.

"Why, Andre? Couldn't you just...not like men anymore? Or like both and date women more often? I mean, couldn't you just...fix it?"

It's as if my sexuality was a toy car in a catalog. And he kept trying to find ways to convince the company to produce the car in a certain color.

But my sexuality, to his dismay, isn't something that can be given a new paint job. Car or not, it isn't that simple.

I'm not that simple. No person is.

Not even the damned Mexicans we have as our muscle.

I used to try to answer him. I used to try to express my thought processes, logic, and feelings towards the matter. I used to stress how I always knew, but didn't know what to call it.

Is it so hard to accept something for what it is?

Why can't he just understand it?

Better yet. Why can't he just understand me?

These questions are typical of any teenager, but I'm 23 years old. I'm an adult. I should be married by now.

Vladimir was married young. He hoped we would follow in suit. I don't fit the bill for fulfilling legacies. Apparently, it's a disability I have.

It's not like I'm his only hope for children. Fio will produce dozens of heirs if she decides to. It wouldn't be much of a change from her current lifestyle.

All she'd need to change in her equation is the lack of protection. And lack of so many partners.

I hate how I can't find it in myself to rip her to shreds about her espionaged romance all those years ago, and I let her obliterate me after a long night of what I enjoy.

She trounces over me all the time. But I can't find it in myself to do the same. It hurts too much.

Wounds like that never really heal for me, somehow.

I can't even hate her for too long. She's my older sister. It isn't right to hurt someone else just because you can. Or to flex your favorability muscle in front of others just because you can.

But Vladimir and Fio do it. They say it comes with the territory.

I disagree.

What comes with the territory is the shame. The secretiveness. The never ending fear that the next corner you turn will be the good guys are there to take you away.

To remove your evils from damaging the delicate world around us. For committing a disservice to the law. To reject the rules to protect and knowingly do the exact opposite.

I hate thinking I'm the same level as a murderer. What we do, as a whole, is far worse.

I hate it, but I still pretend. I pretend to forget that I'm a bad guy. I forget that I'm doing bad things for bad people.

I forget to remember that I'm breaking the law. I forget to remember that I'm going behind the backs of thousands for the benefit of the few.

But the biggest thing I forget to remember is what I am.

I do it to reduce the number of phone calls from Vladimir. I do it so I can smile.

But I know that when I smile, my heart breaks. Since every smile I make in front of my dad is my apology to him.

My apology for not being what he wanted me to be.

Every smile hurts. And every stab at my truths keeps on bleeding. The ones who are supposed to be my greatest allies are the hugest culprits of this crime.

My prison bars are the loving arms of my family. And whatever else comes with my family.

The wounds just keep growing, and don't start healing.

They just...keep hurting.

December 3

I haven't been able to write since it happened. Noni's death really shook me up. I suppose I shouldn't have been surprised, considering her past with Reggie, but I was. Oh, Dios. The way she went.. what they did to her. I have dreams about it at night. I don't think Andre suspects it bothers me as much as it does. I sometimes think he believes he's the only one who wants revenge. It's as if he was the only one who lost a relative. My brother, the queer, behaving as man for once and I can't stand it.

I don't understand him. Papi is ill.. the heart attack has left him bed ridden and largely unable to function by himself. Andre takes no responsibility around the house. He leaves me to deal with Father and then brings a male whore into our home to stay. I wanted to strangle that stray he brought in when I found Papi crying. I didn't understand why until I realized the sound of their lovemaking was coming from the vents. I wish father could understand his son, but he is old and set in his ways. Andre should be able to see that and if he cared at all, he'd leave the poor man oblivious.

And this.. this boy he's brought in makes my skin crawl. El peque?o bastardo. No maneras, no hay equilibrio, no tacto. ?l habla a m? como yo no soy nada y mi hermano le permite. Even when I point out that he was only here because of my good graces, the boy had the audacity to bandy words with me. He looks 17.. maybe 18 years old. I can't stand seeing them together. I want my brother happy, but did he have to choose a scrawny child as his lover? Ni?o feo. Joder.

On a more positive note, we gained a new client. It's not normally what Papi would take on, but I'm attempting to take the business in a different direction. We've been having the Watch breathing down our necks since the whole ordeal with Reggie and Noni. Ships immune to search and seizure will certainly come in handy. I have dinner tomorrow with one of Papi's old friends; he's a regular. Though, I'm not sure what he wants. Esteban had better have kept his mouth shut about Andre. If I lose a client over my brother's indescretions, Fiorella Bohannon will not be happy. Alguien puede salir herido.