Call me Beck

Dante grew up in the State of New York to two parents with vastly different families. His father, who had come to the States when he was fourteen with his parents, always seemed to be invested more in their traditional roots, even if his own parents were reluctant to talk much about it. Not that it was bad, just that running away from it had been a choice. The constant tension there was one thing, but his mother’s side of the family had so many struggles that his mother tried time and time again to ensure they would leave her alone.

For Dante it meant rolling from one tension to the next, never knowing if there would be someone to cook him dinner when he got home. His father was always moping about, getting odd jobs, screaming in bars, while his mother had to visit family in prison, or do hair for estranged cousins. It was chaos, day in day out. Dante learned not to expect much from his family, it was easier that way, if he was self-sufficient enough, he could dodge concerned aunties and worried grandparents - who always gave him different advice from his parents. 

Thinking for themselves was key to their survival, and walking a fine line to impress each side of the family another. 

Dante moved to the great city of New York at age seventeen after a falling out with their parents, they started couch surfing for some months, working as a waiter at a small fancy bar, and eventually got their own little place, one room and shared bathroom, but better than nothing. Aside from all the things they did wrong, the bad crowd they hung out with, they felt pretty confident that life was good. They had great colleagues, and the shifts - while long - were well-paid. They were often the waiter and bouncer, especially in the evening when the last customers had to be kicked out. Dante was the one people came to when they had difficulty with customers. They felt pretty good about it all, like people counted on them and they could handle that responsibility. 

Little they knew, they were soon becoming entangled in someone’s dangerous ploy. 

One night a colleague was being harassed just when Dante got off work, they took the guy outside to send him away, but instead got into a fight. The police were called and a couple hours later they were bailed out by their colleagues. Shaking and afraid, Dante was told that the customer had died, but the police didn’t know yet. Their colleagues had a way out though, friends in Ohio that could take them in until the matter was settled. 

Except that he hadn’t really died, and Dante was sent away to play a role in a game they weren’t aware of. 

Dante came to Pleasance, Ohio some months ago, working as a ‘bouncer’ for a bar that really didn’t need a bouncer. They realised that after some weeks when the owner started handing out tasks that were far less legal, and they soon dealt drugs wherever they were sent, or went on long car rides to smuggle in the new supplies. Was this worse than murder? Dante still feared going back to New York, waiting for the call that said they were safe, waiting for the call that they could come home. 

The call came, but it was not what they expected.