Note: There's some violence in this one... nothing really savage, but perhaps gruesome enough to justify warning sensitive readers. Some characters die.
Also, in this particular story, there are almost no sexy bits. If you really only want the sex, you could just skip ahead to the Raoul's First Murder stories.
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Raoul stays at the sorority another half hour, not wanting to run off too quickly after an experience like that. But eventually, kissing and hugging all the girls goodbye, he promises to come to their Chinese New Years' party.
"Bring condoms," some whisper.
"Of course I will," he promises.
His cousin Yvonne decides he's too drunk, so she'll drive him home.
"What did you do down there?" she demands almost as soon as the car begins moving. Outside, her sorority sisters are still waving goodbye. "Some girls came up saying everyone was getting naked."
Her aggressive tone masks her nervousness. Raoul's acquaintances, even his family, do not often question him about his actions.
And they have good reason not to.
"That's true."
"What did you do?"
"Ask your friends. They'll tell you anything they want you to know."
"What about
you
? What do
you
want me to know?"
Before answering, he looks over at her. They both know that this is a warning. He lets the silence grow uncomfortable while she looks straight ahead at the road, pretending not to know he's looking at her.
"You should know that I had a good time."
"That's all?"
"Yup." He turns to look at the road. "Thanks for inviting me."
"That's fine," she bluffs. "I don't care." But a minute later she hits him, whining pathetically and changing to Mandarin. "Come on! Tell me! I'm your 'older sister!'"
"Nope."
She sighs. He's incorrigible. Since his parents died, which was almost six years ago, no one has been able to tell him anything. "You think you're the boss of yourself," his aunt, Yvonne's mother, once scolded him. "Huh," he replied, sarcastically, as if puzzled. "Just because I pay most of the bills." His aunt told him that he was still a child, and she still had to follow her rules.
"What's your enforcement mechanism?" he'd challenged. He waited while her mom and the girls had a discussion in Cantonese about what this meant, silent as they howled with disgust at his disrespect. "How can you talk to your aunt like that?" they'd spat at him. "Well? What do you have to say for yourself? What if your parents could hear you talk like that?"
He didn't blink. But at the peak of their outrage, he just said, "If it's too much for you to endure, I'll miss having you live in my home."
One by one, over the next two days, everyone except her mom apologized to him, desperate to be back in his good graces. Finally her mom confronted him in his room. None of the girls knows what happened, but she came out half an hour later and announced that Raoul was the man of the house now.
And that was that.
So Yvonne knows she's not going to win this argument.
"Well," she shrugs, in English again, "I'm glad you had a good time, at least."
"A great time."
"Good. Next time I won't have to beg you to come see us."
"Nope."
"Tell me about the club. What's happening again?"
"You remember Emma? White girl, black hair? Cheerleader at County. Maybe your year, maybe a year older."
"Yeah, I remember. Year ahead of me. She dropped out senior year."
"She showed up at the party today."
"Really? Who invited her?"
"I don't know."
"Huh. She was always kind of weird."
Raoul nods, so Yvonne goes on.
"Like, she wanted attention too much, especially from boys. She was desperate for friends. She tried to seem confident so hard, you could tell she was actually really insecure."
"She's a stripper now."
"Huh. I'm not surprised. She had a terrible reputation. I heard she had two abortions
before
she dropped out."
"She gave me a fake ID today."
"A fake ID?"
"For my birthday."
"What kind of fake ID?"
"A Wyoming driver's license in the name of Raoul Badoss. Born in 1965."
"And she invited you to go see her strip?"
"Yup."
"And so you're going?"
"Of course."
"With the fake ID?"
Instead of answering, he looks at her again. She's skinny and tall, barely a third as big as Raoul.
She looks straight ahead, unable to meet his gaze.
"And there'll be a motorcycle gang there?" she asks, her voice tight with fear.
"Did I tell you that?"
"Mom called. She heard Sam and Reza talking about it. She doesn't want me to let you go."
He snorts.
This is funny in several ways: no one, especially not Yvonne, is going to stop Raoul from doing what he wants to do. But his poor Auntie Wei will lose sleep until he comes home safe and sound. What is he going to do with her?
"Raoul?"
"Yeah?"
"Please don't go."
"Why?"
"I'm scared."
"You serious?"
"Yeah."
"I'll be okay," he smirks.
"Please, Raoul."
"Yvonne." His tone is flat and deep and dangerous.
"Please, Raoul. A motorcycle gang? With a fake ID? You could get in real trouble. You could get hurt. Arrested. Who knows?"
"That's why it's interesting."
"If something happens to you, what happens to the rest of us?"
"Is that what this is about? You'll all be alright."
"No, but..." She takes a deep breath to calm herself down. "I only meant that if you won't think about your safety you should think about us. Please, Raoul."
"Yvonne, if you whine like that again, you'll make me angry."
She nods, blinking back tears, and they ignore each other the rest of the way home.
Half his mind is pondering what a motorcycle-gang strip-club experience will be; the other half is trying to remember which of Yvonne's "Kappy" sisters he'd promised to fuck at their Chinese New Year's party in a few weeks.
Then he realizes: it doesn't matter. He'll fuck just about any of them who want to fuck him.
When they arrive, right as she stops the car, she turns to him ferociously.
"You don't care about any of us, do you? You don't care how much any of us worry about you or anything!"
She jerks the keys out of the ignition and throws them at him. Reacting reflexively, he manages to catch them before they fly into the bushes.
After watching her run into the house, slamming the front door behind her, he puts the roof up with deliberate slowness and goes into his room through the side door.
Fortunately no one is in his room. He changes into some normal clothes — white t-shirt, blue jeans, a chain to connect his wallet to his belt, a leather jacket, and riding boots.
Then he goes into the living room. A few of the M-girls are gathered around Yvonne. They've been crying, but as soon as he appears, they stop.
"You ladies okay?" he asks. His tone suggests that they'd better be.
"We're okay, Raoul," Grannie Rosa affirms. "You go have fun, but be careful."
"Thank you, Grannie," Raoul says. He walks over to kiss her forehead as everyone holds still.
None of them are really afraid he'll hurt them. He's never done that intentionally.
He might, for example, put a foot through the television. He's been known to tear apart sofa cushions, throw chairs through windows, destroy tables with his fist.
But he won't hurt them.
"You be a good boy," she tells him.
Grannie Rosa has more faith in Raoul than other members of his family. She remembers when he was seven years old and beat a thirteen-year-old boy senseless with an iron pipe. That boy was bigger than Raoul, but now no one is bigger than he is. If nothing else, at least she's sure he can take care of himself.
But she also doesn't see his temper or his violence as a threat. Like Raoul, her father and brothers were all amateur boxers. She grew up in a home full of boys punching each other as hard as they could, whether playing or in anger, but never laying a finger on her. She knows a boy like Raoul needs to go out and have his fun. Get some of those rough edges knocked off. He'll be okay. The girls, who've grown up in a family of only Raoul among so many girls, have not learned to be comfortable with the wild ways of boys.
Perhaps most of all, she understands that Raoul's anger connects to his grief. He has so much to grieve, and he doesn't know how to do it any other way than to fight. Someday, she believes, he'll fight it all out, and realize he's actually a good man, like his father and grandfathers.
After kissing Grannie Rosa, he sees Emma waiting in a corner, clearly as afraid of his sisters and cousins as they are of him. Summoning her with a wink and his chin, he walks out the front door without saying goodbye to anyone.
Sam and Reza, sprinting, manage to get out right behind him, and then jump in front of him in the yard.
"You okay?" Sam asks, standing in the yard, blocking his path, but far enough away from the house that they can talk without being overheard through the windows.
"Yvonne says she made you angry," Reza explains.
Raoul just looks at them. Looking back, he sees Emma waiting at the door, apparently unsure whether she should come on out.
He gestures for her to join them.
Since he didn't answer, his twins just hug him, knowing better than to talk; he holds one in each arm.
Seeing that Emma also looks frightened, he smiles to reassure her, as if everything is a big joke, then looks away to take more deep breaths.
"We're sorry, Raoul," Sam says.
He snorts. "You didn't do anything."
"Yeah," Reza says, "but we're sorry you're upset."
"I'm fine," Raoul assures them. "You should go help Yvonne and the others. They need to calm down. But I'm fine." Then, knowing that people in the house will be trying to hear what's being said, he says loudly, for everyone's benefit, "In fact, you know what would do me some good? A six-pack of beer and a lap dance."
Hearing that, of course, lights Emma up like a firefly, but he feels his twins stiffen and cool.
"Okay," Sam ventures, stepping away from his hug, "but please be careful."
