Post by roman landon hayes on Apr 27, 2013 13:16:58 GMT -8
| [atrb=style,width: 420px; background-color: efefef; background-image: url(http://i.imgur.com/6jh1H.png); padding: 5px, bTable] ROMAN L. HAYES TWENTY SEVEN | HETEROSEXUAL | CEO (AND MAFIA MEMBER)| TOURIST | ADAM how could you not remember who I am? I ruled this town for sixteen years—until things changed and I had To get out. I don’t know what it is about this town that is so suffocating but it’s killer, it’s mind numbing, there are just idiots here who don’t care about anyone else. ..i was one of them, that’s how I know. I did not give a damn about anyone but that was the trend, it’s what made you popular. you did not have to study because that was trying—you were never meant to try and I never did, and it was amazing. I loved my life for the longest time. a trust fund baby who could buy their way out of anything, travelling to countries for weeks at a time in the summer to stay in the most lavish places. I never questioned where the money came from, all I knew was that my father was a big time business owner. my mother was a promiscuous woman who only cared about who would buy her the most expensive lifestyle. my dad often won but he competed against a man named barry, which is where Stephanie came from. a little brat in my mind, and she still is to this day. I have no idea what she is up to, would not really care if she was in the ground. okay that’s a bit of a lie, we had good times. we were nice to each other for the most part, equal in my mother’s eyes but my father despised her and I looked up to him, so I followed that mindset as well. I hated her for the latter part and when my father passed, I just kept up that mindset. she was nothing to me after I turned eighteen but for the longest time, she was a friend. but never a sister. she was popular though, she latched onto my friends so I had to see her but I never established her as a sister, I never stuck up for her, I never defended her and I guess that makes me a bad brother. or a bad person. I could be considered a bad person with how many hearts that I’ve taken and broken, how many unnamed girls that I took to bed with the promise of the world. I was always told that I was a good looking guy and I just increased in attraction as I grew up, as I formed into my own body. I was built. I can pull off the scruffy look and the bed head look and I am never without female company, even on a bus ride. it’s not hard for me to make friends, and even easier for me to make enemies. I suppose that I would have what you call an unfiltered mind. I never think before I speak but that’s because I never had to, I never got punished for the bad things that I did when I was a child as my mother was too busy with the pool boy, my father or barry. I never understood her attraction to the pool boy, he was never interesting to me and he did a terrible job of cleaning the pool but I guess he did a wonderful job in fucking, cause that triggered the divorce when I was twelve. the courts decided that I was not old enough to make the choice and I had to stay with my mother and barry, I hated barry. the only good thing about him was that he bought his way into, what he thought was love, but was actually loathing, covered by fake smiles and nice comments. he actually hit me once or twice but my mother was never around and after the second time, and I was fifteen, talk enough and more muscular, laid him onto his back and he never made even a threatening step toward me again. the scandal hit the papers, soiled the name and my parents decided that they needed to fake it until they made—so they faked it. they decided to buy houses beside each other, my father paying for the tunnel extension to get from one house to another, making it appear like a larger house but it was really two different homes—often times, I found myself on my dad’s side and the press retracted the story. a divorce was apparently a horrible image ruiner, not that I would know…well I would, I already have an annulment under my belt but I was drunk and in vegas, cliché but oh so classic. woke up and realized what a horrible mistake that I made, along with the horrible headache and the fact that the room was destroyed, and the woman that I married was a hideous thing. seriously, like a troll. my friends still make fun of me to this day and I can’t deny that my best friend’s wife-to-be is a looker—stunning but she is from here, she grew up with us and we all knew that they would get married. marriage. blech, the thought is sickening. I was married for a whole ten hours and I thought that I was going to jump from the balcony. thank goodness that I woke up with my clothes on, we did not fuck to seal the marriage and I was able o get it stricken before my mother found out. not that I really care what she would think but I can already predict how the conversation would go. I know that I sound apathetic but I’m really not, I’m actually quite in tune with my emotions, it’s just that I don’t have to be, or I shouldn’t be I guess. I don’t know, that’s what caden told me when I was twenty, and I guess for seven years, it’s been like that for me. you don’t need to know who caden is, not even sure if that is his real name. curious. anyway, right, bad brother, bad person, unfiltered, numb to emotions, what else..what else. probably wondering what I am doing back in this town. I think you asked me before but I ignored the question. remember that sweet best friend of mine, yea, he is getting married to that girl that is a real looker. I actually had a crush on her in high school—all through high school. little bastard knew I liked her and once I left, swooped in, least he waited until I left, that was kind of nice of him. I don’t know what to think of this marriage. I support him, but I don’t support it. he was there with me through all of the stupid shit—tying that boy to the flag pool, throwing drinks in nerd’s faces, pushing people into, literally into lockers—did I mention that I was not a good kid? yea, I was horrible. I’ve matured but I guess I’m still a pretty bad person or that’s what people tell me. bitch, asshole, douche. tool, horrible, cruel, sadistic…think those are the main words to describe me. why? because that’s who I am. that’s who my father was. yes, was. he died when I was eighteen, and that’s when I passed my crown to my best friend and moved on with my life. oh that boarding school were the best days of my life. my own dorm. my own domain, a new place to conquer and I took it by storm from day one. but I was only there for half a year and got suspended on the last day of school, after I wrote all my exams, even after I got my diploma. that girl was completely worth it though. she was my only real girlfriend. I had many in high school…at the same time. they tried to get back at my but I won. college was where I matured, it’s here I experienced my first heart break and was determined that love was for suckers—which is why I’m still skeptical about this marriage. I should be supportive but I can’t get on board with it. this girl that I ended up getting suspended with, kind of. I don’t even know if you can fucking call it suspended when I was already done, but whatever, it’s actually there on my record and many colleges questioned it. how I answered each time was “I have a girlfriend…” and they all understood. it all made sense to them, and they explained that it was a part of growing up and would over look it. anything that they would not overlook was paid off, and I ended up going to new york university. nyu baby! oh g-d those were the years. catherine went to Columbia. same city. same area. fuck, it was a dream come true. I thought I could finally move on with my life. get away from the drama of high school, middle school, his death, her infidelities, but college was fun with the drinking, fucking, smoking things that I had no idea about, I think I even tried coke once but I was so fucked up so I don’t even know, but my nose bled for like two days, might have only been a few hours. what the fuck do I know? not a doctor. either way, I guess college was my wake up call. all the years of slacking off made studying hard. it made papers, writing them and deadlines, nearly impossible and in my second year, I was threatened to be kicked out. I had to get this diploma in order to take over my father’s company and so, i studied my fucking hot ass off. parties became second nature to me, but they were never put below my school work and I ended up graduating with high honours. guess you are wondering what happened to that whore, catherine? thought I loved her, even told her that I fucking loved her and that I wanted to live in the city but she wanted to go back to the town that she grew up in, the place where our boarding school was—all the way on the other side of the fucking country. California was nice, there was no denying and I guess in my love blind sight, I agreed. the summer of our junior year, we went and we met up with old friends and partied until dawn, into the next day and all that day. we were so fucked up the entire time. she not only cheated on me during the three days of partying, twice, but she left me to take the wrap for a crime that I could not pay my way out of. she hijacked a car, and I was not aware, thought that she fucking rented it. I left her sorry ass after spending three days in the county prison and I don’t give a fuck what happened to her. she could really be in the ground for all I care. fucking bitch. i have some respect for woman, despite how I am talking but it does not change the fact that she shacked up with a guy in an apartment that he shared with three guys—bet she fucked all of them actually. anyway, I was done with that. girlfriends were just a cause for trouble, and relationships were not for me. since then, I’ve played it safe. one night stands all the way—it’s the way to do anything these days. get a girl drunk, sweet talk her, or just sweet talk her and she is putty in your fingers. that’s a tip for the boys. wear a suit, know what you are talking about, make them seem like they need to impress you, let them talk and they are gone, you will have them screaming your name by the end of the night. it’s the recipe for a good one night stand. and don’t be desperate, you got to study them or else you will end up with a dog, or a freak. one girl had a fetish with my feet and I was just completely grossed out, I nearly kicked her in the face so I’m more selective now—it’s the smart move. so yes, back in town. my headquarters, the place that I live in new york city, where I have wanted to live for a while. my name is often in the paper for doing galas and functions. I raise money. I guess I try and let it make up for the things that I have done in the past. I was such an asshole, I still am but I know when I am being one. back then, when I was a child, I did it for fun. I tortured the same girl for years, all through middle school and then it just…progressed. I would kiss her in high school, pin her to her locker, just to make her squirm, just to make her blush and stutter as she pushed me away. I loved to see her get flustered, it fueled me. in middle school, it was petty stuff. I tore up her homework, I knocked the books from her hand, we locked her in a broom closet for an entire school day. she was such an easy little target. her glasses were broken many times by my hands, I tried to make her eat things too. we tricked her time and time again but as we got older, the petty stuff got old and we changed up the games. I was dared once to kiss her in the promise that I could get the answers to a test, it was stupid and ugh I so did not want to. they got her alone, my boys, it was easy. she was so easy to trick, so easy to spin around and make her do whatever we wanted. the kiss was quick and then I left her in the dark. no idea if she knew it was me. never got in trouble for it, never got in trouble for any of it and then I just disappeared in the middle of the final year of high school. no clue what happened to her. I can’t even remember her name, think it started with an I or maybe a t. but there was not one day that passed that we did not mess with her. that move was probably the best thing to happen to her, and the worst thing for me. fuck. i hate telling this but i'm told to write my feelings out and it's not like this is ever going to get into the hands of the wrong person. put this shit under lock and key if i have to, or burn it. my move was sponanteous, as was the heart attack that took my young father's life. i never really loved the man for his own indescretions but he did teach me a lot about being a man, what it meant to be an adult and since i run the company that he created, people mistaken roman for elijah, which was my father's name. i respected him, but never told him anything about that respect in fear that it would cause me to look soft. he was not soft, he was a tough man to deal with and i like to think that i run the business in the same way. either way, it's thriving and that's what i care about. i got a gala in about two months, back in my hometown, to honor my father's name for something that i really never paid attention to as a child. again, never questioned where the money came from until he was gone, then the assests continued to accumulate even though no one was truely running the company at the time. i had to finish college before i was allowed to take over--it was the law. i hardly listened to the law and sometimes, i called the shots as the company had no other heir except me, it was passed to my father's second in command that was more of a mafia member and less of a businessman but he had a good head on his shoulder, until it was shot off. not completely and it was not by my own gun, i only got this thing four years ago while ricardo was assassinated on the day of my graduation. i think it was planned. i know it was actually. the timing was too perfect, getting my diploma while he was savoring his last breath. i always thought that he was a good man, someone that was dedicated to a life of justice and not crime but it helped me realize that one, i should never trust anyone, not that my own childhood did not teach me that lesson first and two, something was not right in my father's company. being wealthy gave me access to funds, and i hired someone to look into my father's assets, where it was coming from and off shore accounts appeared, property in other countries, he even had another family but nothing was truly fishy until i was approached. or bagged and thrown into a van. at this point, i had taken over the company and was only twenty two years old. i was young, still a little hopeful about the future of the company but I was stupid to think that all of the wealth was coming from legal business. my private investigator came across a few changes things including new travel documents, the real name of my father and the warehouses that housed weapons that he dealt out to overseas, hence the off shore accounts. it was strange to me but I guess being kidnapped by my father’s enemies at the age of twenty two helped to open my eyes. karma for all those years of bullying were kind of thrown back at me at this point, tied to a chair and threatening my life for information that I knew nothing about. this was the point that I would say, I wish I never left maine. I was safe there, I had a kingdom there but now? I don’t have to say those words because that town means nothing to me anymore. my father’s real named turned out to be Elijah Heise—a mafia member, second in command of the irish mob and overseeing accounts here. the fact that he fell in love and had me was unplanned and was frowned upon, but his own allies and his own cohorts of members decided to allow him to have this piece of life but he had to be covered. his tracks were covered with a company that he himself built. I was furious to find this out, but I wanted in. the whole irish part was known as my temper and my need to alcohol in any situations was there, i was always irrational and a little more aggressive than the other kids and I never really understood why. it was because of the past that was hidden from me, and I wanted my name in the books along my great grandfather and a few fathers before and after him. I got my opening and I took it—being rescued from the king pins, a group of english mafia members that despised the irish, and my father. got my gun, had a shit ton of training from learning how to use that fucking thing to fighting and now, I’m unstoppable but you don’t know that…well this notebook does and I do but not even my mother knows. she thinks that I am nothing but a carefree, wild party boy who has a great responsibility to handle but she does not even know the half of it. I would probably put a bullet in her head if she ever found out because my mother’s mouth is big, just ask my step dad…I did mention that, she married the pool boy, barry. offing him would probably raise too much suspicion. I got to stop thinking like this. anyway, you know that friend that I’m going back for, the engaged one, the one who is chaining himself to my old high school fling—well he is the heir to the irish mafia. scary, I know. he is just as reckless as I am but I think he is more controlled, he had more discipline as he knew his entire life about who he was well I just found out five years ago. it was strange that the connection of my best friend turned out to go further back than just elementary school but I guess there was always a reason that my father pushed us together to be friends. protection, security, and maybe my father wanted me to know but even my friend had no real idea. he did not actually find out until high school and even then, he never let me know. asshole. oh well, what’s done is done and I do a damn good job at what I do—legally and illegally. he is more of an all around guy while I found my specialization in weapons, much like my father. I’m a take control kind of guy but I’m not overly power hungry which is a good thing cause then my friendship would be screwed. I already know that I don’t have the skills to be a leader of such a large organization and luckily for my buddy, he doesn’t have to take over the world quite yet as his father is still alive. the marriage is arranged, supposedly and has been for a while even if we always knew they would get married. again, I’m happy for them so whatever. wonder who the bridesmaid will be…hope she is hot, hope it’s caroline—I heard through the grapevine that they are friends still. I guess I could admit that the death of my father rattled me up, the biggest reason why I left maine in the first place. people must have been sad, or cheering, either or, really don’t give a shit. I was done with that place as soon as my father was in the ground but I guess I have to go visit his grave—shit. I did not even think about that. ah. I have not seen that stupid tombstone in nine years, it’s been that fucking long. I hated maine after that. everything reminded me of a memory about my father or something I did with my father or said to my father. it was all too much to bear and I could not take it, so I didn’t. I bolted, cowardly. I begged my mother to dip into my trust fund and give me access to a new school which was on the other side of the country and it was a ball for me. I was free from parental control and I lost control. I was wild, still am but more refined now, I actually used corny pick up lines back then and now, I am more straight forward with the girls that I want to take home—but not when I get them home. I can promise the world to a girl, and not deliver the next morning. I usually end up on the couch watching the shopping channel for something to buy, another thing to add to my useless collection of crap. I got motel ashy trays, model plates, four sports cars, eight vacation homes plus the home in maine and the penthouse in nyc. I’m rolling in money and not just the company’s worth or the illegal shit, but my trust fund is still sustaining me and growing in interest. what more could I ask for in life? I got everything I want, everyone I need but I have to toss that all away for a fucking wedding. he’s lucky I love the little douche and possibly fear a gun being put to my head but best man, that’s meant to be an honor, right? well I shall fill the role with dignity as I walk through the hell of my past. a journal entry, a decision that he quickly burned away in a bonfire on a florida beach one summer. no evidence of this remains, burned to ashes but still forever in his mind that he made the stupid choice to write down his sins. BEHIND THE MASK ERIN | 21 (UGH)| EASTERN | CURRENT MEMBER | TALIA, HUNTER AND FORD PUH-LEASE. |
