Chapter 1 prologue-ish: How they met.
Barbie.
Milan thought with a snort as she scanned the pretty five foot two figure strutting across the West Green Park.
She was quite a sight to behold, 'barbie' that is, as heads turned everywhere she passed.The way she held herself you'd think she owned the place.
But she was no ordinary girl - or even a girl at all to begin with. Infact ,Milan and all the other awe-stricken people in the park had no clue that they were actually staring at a man.
Raphael was a whole different breed of
men. Petite, graceful and with the temper of a wounded rhino, pretty much summed up his character.
At that moment, he was in pink stilletos, a short pink plaid skirt, a white crop top written ' better a blowjob than a no-job' in pink glitter. His pink leather jacket matched with his channel hand bag which was as pink and as glittery as ever.
He let his long wavy blonde hair bounce ever so gracefully with each step as he sashayed across the central path.
He looked good , felt good and there was nothing, absolutely nothing that could ruin his perfect afternoon- or so he thought.
It happened so fast Milan could have missed it if she blinked.
An inhumane shriek that sounded more like a turkey mating call erupted from Raphael's throat as he stumbled forward rather quite ungracefully. His bag flew from his hand as he landed on his knees as an attempt to break the fall. But he kept going until he landed face first on the hard ground.
The shame.
Apart from the mild ringing of his ears, the only other thing he could hear was the hammering of his heart. He managed to slowly raise himself to a kneeling position. He looked down at his scraped palms which were stinging with hot pain.
THE. SHAME.
Embarrassment warmed into him, molded with anger. Shakingly, he stood up wincing at the pain that shot from his bloody knees. He turned torturously slow gritting his teeth to look at the potential victim.
On a bench notmore than two feet away from Raphael was Damien in dark sunglasses, basking in the sun. Raphael's raging eyes travelled down the length of Damien extended right foot, which was constantly tapping on the ground.
The foot that had tripped him.
Raphael glanced at his now dirty crop top, his even dirtier hands, his really dirty legs and his dirty ripped skirt.... He gasped. It was his favorite skirt. It had Beyonce's autograph. He stroke the torn skirt almost intimately wishing for the tear fo disappear. His vision blurred. He balled his hands into fists ignoring the pain.
You're done.
You're dead buddy!
Raphael stood directly in front of Damien almost faoming like a rabid dog.Damein on the other hand was busy soaking in the afternoon sun oblivious of the storm that was about to descend on him.
" You " Damien drawled with a smirk,
" should watch where you're going ." His British accent was very evident.
That was Raphael's last straw, last string, last piece of patience, his 13 the reason why- call it whatever you want, but it snapped.
He sprung on Damien like a hungry tiger gripping him by the collar, shaking him like a rag doll ,spewing curse words (some even unheard of) before some Samaritans decided to hold him back.
"YOU FUCKING DINGLEDICK!!! CURSE YOU AND ALL YOUR DESCENDANTS YOU ROTTEN SEWER CABBAGE!!!" Raphael kicked and struggled to be let free.
"What is the matter with you young lady! ?" shrieked one of the intermediaries " Why on earth are you attacking this poor blind man?"
It took a while for the words to sink and he continued thrashing.
When the words finally registered in his head, he noticed the walking stick leaning on the bench next to Damien . He was being comforted and reassured by some old ladies that were staring daggers back at Raphael shaking their heads in disapproval and judgement.
"I- " Raphael's eyes widened in horror. Saying that he was dumbstruck would be an understatement. He opened and closed his mouth but no words came out.
A loud guffaw made all of them to turn their heads.
Milan had bent over. She was laughing , crying from the laughter, clutching her ribs. They all glared at her obviously unladylike manners but she didn't seem to notice as she was busy cracking up. Who would have thought that a lazy Sunday afternoon would be that interesting.
Ladies and gentlemen, allow me to introduce: The low-key high key gorgeous psychopath, a blind British bastard and a homosexual with anger issues.
Milan Winter
Damien Castle
Raphael Santiago.
