Page 73 of Sweet Touch of Venom
I don’t plan on staying long, anyway.
Strolling into the house I have no memory of—because it’s always being changed every five years—I follow the sound of clattering plates and of a weasel laughing.
“It’s absolutely incredible how we can pull that?—”
My father sits at the end of the ten-foot table, my brother is in the chair across from him, and the chef places their dinner plates in front of them. I instantly dull my eyes, already feeling an irritation settle in my stomach.
“He lives.” My father speaks roughly in Portuguese; Cruz’s head snaps in my direction, the laugh drifting off like it never happened. I make my way to the chair opposite of Cruz, who watches me with a look like I’m the imposing one.
“Glad to see you can make it.” Cruz offers his hand as if we are business associates and not actual brothers. It’s so presumptuous. Why not stand up and give each other a pat on the back or some brotherly shit like that?
No, not us. I ignore his hand, looking at my father, cutting straight to the point.
“What was it you needed me here for?” I itch the spot on my cheek, waiting.
The chef comes around, placing a five-star gourmet meal in front of me. I ignore that too.
Alexandro shakes his head lightly, the gray and black speckle on his chin more visible; there are deep lines in his cheeks, andhis eyes are clearer from age. “Is it a sin to want to see my oldest son?”
He hasn’tseenme for twenty years. And not physically. You can be around someone, but can you truly see and understand them? He has treated me like the waste child who couldn’t amount to what he expected. The only thing that held us together was my mother, and when she died, that was it. The only one that was under his beck and call was Cruz.
I graze my thumb over my brow with frustration. “It’s always something, so what is it?”
Cruz flicks out his napkin, the cloth spreading like wings above the table before gently placing it on his thighs.
Pompous ass.
“How’s everything been going? Anything new? Interesting?” My father asks me as he slices a knife into his chicken. The sudden interest in my life only set off alarms in my head, like bright red flags waving in the air. A vision appears in my head of him taking his foot and crushing the heel of his shoe on my thirteen-year-old hand. All because I wanted to show him my new creation. That left me with bruised and swollen fingers for two weeks straight. I swipe the thought away as I tighten my jaw to suppress the rage.
“Fine.” Moving the plate out of the way, I clasp my hands together on the table, not giving a damn about etiquette. Cruz watches the movement with a twitching stare.
“Have you considered my opportunity to take over the business?” The knife screeches on the plate before he stuffs his fork in his mouth.
“I have no interest in being the holder of an oil and gas company.” This is what I mean. I’m a grown ass man, and it’s never ending with wanting to vet me for a company I never had interest in. Disappointed shines clear as day across his face. He opens his mouth to speak.
“Well then, what do you have interest in?” Cruz cuts in instead, his eyes dark and lifeless. The eyes he inherited from our father.
I crack a smirk at him. “Do you really want to know?”
Cruz’s lip raises slightly in aversion. We haven’t truly been brothers for a very long time. I only got to experience it for a brief moment. We are blood, but we are two strangers to each other. Although growing up, I would’ve liked to have had a bond with him. I’m his older brother, and what older brother wouldn’t want his baby brother under his wing?
He wipes the sides of his mouth with another napkin before speaking. “Maybe it’s time you become a part of something life changing. Mind-altering technology.”
My father continues eating in silence. Now that’s more like, do what you’ve always done.
Cruz stands up, exiting the room before coming back in the next second with a handheld box. My brow raises at the thought of a secret bomb being inside of it. Cruz wears a pleased smile on his face as he sets the box in the middle of the table.
I give a blank stare, my thumb itching my brow again, indicating I am bored with the theatrics. “What is this?”
He releases a breath, smiling harder. “This ischangeas we know it.” He lifts the box. “A new way of living, and most of all, control.”
Control?
In the box lies a tiny device—tinier than my pinky nail. “This is the Pevlon 4. It’s a device that’s used to place in a person’s mind and lead them to a virtual world. We can be the face of the world of artificial intelligence and virtual living as we know it. No more game systems, no more imaginations. This beauty here,” he gently picks up the tiny piece, holding it out in front of him, “will be a life changer. The only problem is, once the implant is inserted, the device overheats and—” He makes aboom sound while sprawling his hands around like a firework with a tiny grin on his lips. He spots the stoic look on my face and the beam drops.
He turns back into business mode. “We’ve only tested on animals so far, but we would like to test on a human. In order to achieve that,” his lips and jaws pinch, the obvious reluctance abandoning his face, “we need your help. You’re knowledgeable in taking things apart, solving problems, and finding the solution.”
A game? Virtual world? Putting this into a body and a serious malfunction? Hard pass. I won’t entertain this. I slowly get out of my seat, finding my cue to dip out of here.
