Eighteen months later

Emilio cursed as he looked down the window and saw all his belongings scattered across the street. His clothes were spread across the pavement; a man and his dog walking over it and looking up in surprise. Emilio flipped him the finger before he returned his gaze to his stuff. His laptop was among it, undoubtedly broken, his DVD's and games — it looked like she'd held a fucking box upside down. How the fuck had he been able to sleep through this? He must have been in a fucking coma. He rubbed his face. His head was pounding; he had a hell of a hangover. He didn't remember much of last night. He walked over to the closet, which turned out to be empty. Of course it was; the contents were on the street. This was just fucking great. Well — then he would go downstairs naked.

The stairs were cracking as he descended them, his head threatening to burst with every step he took. First to the fridge. Taking a beer from it, he took a few sips.

"Seriously?!" Amanda yelled. "You come down bare-assed just to drink beer? What the fuck is wrong with you, asshole? Get the fuck out of my house!"

She was crying.

He squeezed his eyes; her shrill voice was torture, and finished his drink.

"What the fuck is goin' on? Why is all my stuff outside?"

"Because you ignored me this morning! I found a thong that wasn't mine in the room, confronted you with it and all you said was that I was being dramatic!"

Emilio shrugged his shoulders. He couldn't remember he had said anything to her this morning, but he assumed she wasn't making things up.

"How long is this going on, Emilio? How long are you cheating on me? During all my night shifts?"

"Sorry," he said. Usually admitting that he had treated her wrong was the easiest.

"Sorry?!" she yelled. "You think I care about your sorry? It's over, Emilio! Get out of my house, I never wanna see your shitty face again!"

Sighing, he rubbed his brow. That damned headache. "You don't have to yell," he mumbled. "I'm not deaf. Let me grab some breakfast, then I'll go."

"No! You leave now!" She grabbed his arm, yanking it. She however was small and he shoved her aside, whereafter he laid some slices of bread on a plate and opened the fridge to see if there were eggs and bacon.

"Calm down, Amanda. I'll be gone in a few minutes, stop being such a drama queen. Those ten minutes won't kill you." He turned towards her. "And bring back my clothes. Unless you want to enjoy the view a little longer." He moved his eyebrows up and down.

She gave him a death stare, turned around and rushed upstairs.

"Okay, I guess we won't have make-up sex this time." He put the frying pan on the stove and beat the eggs into it.

After finishing breakfast he headed to the front door to grab his clothes before some dumb ass would steal them. He ignored the people that were staring at him; for most of them, this view was going to be the best thing they would see this month. He didn't plan to come back anyway.

Where he would go, he didn't know all too well. His main reason to move in with Amanda had been because his parents had kicked him out and he hadn't been too eager to sleep under a bridge. This thing with Amanda had been nothing but a row of one-night stands, and he couldn't care less that it was over now.

He however did need a place to sleep. And actually, he could think of only one person he could always go to.

"Fucker," Emilio grumbled when Juan wasn't picking up his phone. Putting the device away, he looked up to the housing complex. Although he had been here before, he had no idea which apartment was his. He lifted his bag a little higher on his shoulder. In it were his only belongings. He looked like a fucking hobo. Luckily he still had his Harley; at least he possessed something of value.

Stroking his finger across all the doorbells he decided to ring all of them — surely someone would let him in.

It felt like he had been waiting for a century when there was a click; finally, that fucking door opened. Emilio walked through the hallway until he reached Juan's apartment. Impatiently he slammed his fist against the door, once again waiting until someone would let him in.

It was a skinny girl who opened the door.

Emilio frowned. "Who the hell are you?" He looked past the redhead into the living room. He did recognize the other two girls; one was the definition of a nerd and the other was simply weird. "Where's Juan?"

"I — I'm Kate," she said quietly. "I'm new. Juan — Juan is showering."

For a brief moment, he calmed down because Juan hadn't bluntly ignored him; then he realized she had just moved in. Why the hell hadn't his friend mentioned a vacant room? Then he wouldn't have been forced to pick up his things from the streets.

"I'll wait," he muttered, walking to the kitchen, opening the fridge and opening a can of beer.

"No," Juan's purple-haired roommate objected. "Those are for the party! Or will you come to the party too?" She gave him a questioning look. "It's a welcome party for all our new residents."

Emilio took a swing. "Sure."

Every party would be better than this deadly place.

He was halfway his beer when the bathroom door opened and Juan stepped out of it, cleanly shaved. "So, you girls ready to go?" he asked as he entered the living room.

"Dude — your showers take so fucking long I thought you were doin' Dana," Emilio said before one of the girls could answer him.

Juan frowned. "What are you doing here?"

Emilio walked past the others, slammed his shoulder and pulled him in a hug. "Amanda kicked me out. So I thought — if you sleep with Dane, I can stay in your room." Slipping past him, he opened the door to his bedroom and dropped his bag in it.

"Well thank you for at least waiting until I'm finished showering before you claim my room," he answered, rolling his eyes

"You're welcome." He leaned against the door frame. "But if it's a problem I don't mind crawling in your girlfriend's bed. Would love to spoon her. She sleeps naked?"

"Why did Amanda break up with you?"

Emilio shrugged his shoulders. "Apparently she was living a fantasy in which I was monogamous. Hey — I heard there's a party. Do we go? Those roommates of yours are more boring than dead people. You should have invited me to be your roomie man. Just a little longer and you turn into a girl yourself, with all those bitches around you. And they're not even hot."

"Without a job or a study you had no priority."

"I'm your best friend. Of course I have priority."

"It's not my call."

"Oh come on, just give that old skinflint a good one and she'll do everything for you."

"I'll give you a week to find a job," Juan answered. "If you are nice to my roommates."

Emilio smirked. "Oh, I bet they'll love to have a single guy in their apartment."

The party was boring as fuck. He might not be a student himself, but he always thought their parties would be wilder. The chicks around here however barely dared to talk, their glances glued to their feet as he tried to get a conversation going.

Among themselves they did talk quietly, but about nothing interesting. Their studies, their dreams of the future... Things he had nothing to say about. He didn't have a job, he didn't have any dreams; everything he did felt volatile and meaningless.

Having a smoke — that was the only longing he felt right now. He left the 'party area' and went to the roof terrace where he sat down on the edge of the roof and stared into the distance.

Emilio looked aside when someone sat down next to him a little later. He wasn't in the mood to waste his time on more boring people; was he supposed to write it on the back of his head?

"Hey."

It was a guy with a ring in his lip, tattooed arms and half of his hair was shaven. Muttering a greeting, he took the beer that was offered to him. Could have been worse.

"You're part of the welcoming committee?" he huffed when the other refused to leave. "I don't live here, so you can pass me over."

"I don't live here either."

A little surprised he looked aside.

"I helped my little sister to move to this place and decided to grab a beer. Free drinks, huh?"

Now he looked at the other, he started to wonder if it was really a guy. It was a manly haircut and he wasn't wearing make-up, but the features of his face were soft. His glance wandered down. The wide band shirt didn't give away much, nor did his wide skater trousers.

"You're a dude or a chick?" he asked.

"Why do you care? You want a fuck?"

Okay... Not the response he had counted on. It didn't happen much that he didn't know what to say himself. Did that mean she was a girl?

"Depends on it. You got a cunt?"

The other smirked. The ring in his/her lip ticked against the glass as a sip was taken. With the movement the sleeve glided down, showing the muscular arms. Well this had to be a guy, right?

"You wanna feel?" it mocked.

Emilio had just taken a drink and the words made him choke. Coughing, he bent over. The chuckling sounds next to him were so annoying he wanted to lash out. "You're a fucking faggot?"

"Well, I do like dicks."

Okay, that was enough. That fag gave him the creeps. "Whatever. I'm out." He wanted to get up.

The other started to laugh. "You're such a wuss. Trying to lure me out while you're so easy to rattle yourself." He pulled his cigarette out of his pocket and handed him the box. "I don't give a fuck about that gender shit, and although my tits are tinier than these of some men I've seen, I don't have a cock. Call me whatever you want, I don't give a fuck."

Emilio didn't know what the reason was that he was still sitting here, the cigarettes or the fact that she turned out to be a girl. He felt awkward because she had indeed rattled him so easily, and with a grim face he pulled a cigarette from the box and lit it.

"I'm Alex. What about you, Mr. Sunshine? You got a name?"

He hesitated, although he didn't know why. "Emilio," he said eventually.

"Okay."

A silence fell while they were both smoking. From the corner of his eyes, he looked aside. She was way too manly to make him want to hit on her, but there was something intriguing in the relaxed way she was sitting next to him. He looked at her tattoo sleeves. Hers were in grey tones, while his were of a dark green and blue. He saw skulls, playing cards, snakes, a license plate... He was actually curious to see if the rest of her body was covered in ink too.

Her — for a woman — low voice dragged him out of his thoughts. "What are you doin' here if you don't live here?"

He blew out a cloud of smoke. He wasn't in the mood to share some sad story. "A friend of mine lives here. I'm crashin' at his place for a while."

She nodded slowly. "You're moving and waiting for your new home or something?"

"Something like that." He decided to lie. "I lived in an anti-squad house and was kicked out. I hope to find something around here." He stared into the distance. "But I gotta find a job first." Hesitating, he added: "You know of a place where they could use a hand?"

"Hmm. What kind of job are you lookin' for?"

He shrugged his shoulders. "It's not like I have a degree in something," he muttered. He hadn't even finished high school, but he didn't want to look like a moron. "Did a car mechanic training for a while, but one can't do much with only half of the training. I dunno, maybe logistics?"

She bit the ring in her lip while she studied his face. He felt a bit uncomfortable under her gaze; it felt like she was looking for something and he had no idea for what.

"Why did you quit?"

He shrugged his shoulders. "Got into it with my supervisor."

Again, her glance moved across his face. "It's too late to sign up for a study, but you can gain some experience in our garage if you like?"

He stared at her, his mouth almost dropping. That offer was really, really unexpected. Was she doing the administration or was she a mechanic herself? He had never seen a female mechanic. But damn... How much better would it be than stocking shelves?

"You know someone who might be willing to train me?" he asked, hesitating.

"Me."

So she was a mechanic. He snorted. "Nobody will ever take me seriously if I'm trained by a bitch."

"You don't have to write down my gender on your resume."

"You ever trained someone before?"

"Nope. You can be my lab rat."

Of course — no self-respecting guy would allow a bitch to train him. "Find someone else," he huffed. "You're not gonna be my boss — no fucking way. How desperate do you think I am."

Shrugging her shoulders, she got up. "Desperate enough to believe that only men can fix cars. But let's face the facts, boy. I got a job and a house, you got nothing." She dropped her cigarette and stepped on it.

Then she turned around and walked away.

Emilio gritted his teeth. His mood only became worse.