Rich Bastard {mxm}

Nineteen.

"Money means nothing when you have lost everything," -J.v.Z

Should I have felt sad?

I wasn't sure. I mean, the man who had shown me nothing but love and affection for the first 16 years of my life kicked me out on my own, sparing me nothing but a hateful glance. I should've felt pain, a crack in my heart even, but I felt absolutely nothing.

I didn't have to deal with the constant reminder of the past with Christine coming and going as she pleased. I didn't have to deal with Sterling and his bullshit whilst trying to keep the real me hidden from him in fear. The only things that I would've been tempted to bring with me were Tara because she showed me more affection and care than anyone did in the house, and for some strange reason, my mother.

But I was glad to be gone.

"Knock, knock."

I jolted amidst my packing, seeing the door to my studio open. One tall and burly man appeared wearing the same old white shirt, denim jeans, and those Timberlands. I was starting to think that it was one of the only things he owned. "Oh, hey, Joaquin," I waved him in and he snorted at all of the boxes and suitcases laying around.

"For someone who was just kicked out, you seem to have everything ready." He pointed to putting all of my clothes and stuff from my studio into a suitcase. "Yeah, I'm not living here," This place was too small and if anything went as planned, I was going to need a lot more room.

He nodded in understanding, walking closer to me. It felt like I had known him forever and whether or not I liked it, I was immensely comfortable around him. He and Tara brought me the same feeling of home, and I treasured it. He came to stand a few feet away from me, eyeing me. "So why exactly did Sterling kick his one and only heir out?" He mocked and I shook my head, grinning.

"It was a combination of things and it was bound to happen," I shrugged, not understanding why he was getting angry for me from the looks of things. "One of the main reasons he felt so appalled the other day was because," I put a finger on my lip, watching his eyes follow the action.

"He didn't like the fact that I was hanging with you," I stated as if it meant nothing and he frowned, taking offense to that. "He even threatened to try to harm you in some way and I wasn't going there with him," I felt a bit guilty about that because I wasn't sure if Sterling was going to keep his word on that. "I'll just have Pierre keep an eye out for you," I said with a smile and Joaquin shook his head.

"No need. I'm not scared of some pompous bastard who can't even threaten me to my face," He folded his arm, his raspy voice turning into a snarl and I smirked, facing him. Hearing him say that just brought on the chills to my arms and the butterflies to my stomach.

Joaquin stepped closer, fixating his gaze on me. "But you really," He cleared his throat. "Are you really going to keep hanging," He put his fingers in quotations as if he was imitating my father. "With me even though Sterling clearly despises me?" If I didn't know it then, I was going to. He was gauging my answer to see if I was truly Sterling's son. "You're here, aren't you?" I raised a brow and I watched as his eyes widened in shock and disbelief, a soft smile soon merging his lips after.

"...hm, well thanks," He whispered, rubbing the back of his neck in that usual sheepish manner of his. It was evident that he was a bit better than the people from my world. Maybe he wasn't as refined or as polished from head to toe as I would've liked, but being in his presence wasn't as bad as I liked to think it was.

And that scared me.

I maneuvered around my cluttered studio, making sure to pack as much as I could. My father did take me off of the family credit card and left me to my own devices, but what he didn't know was that my paintings did a lot for me than I let on.