Emilio Estevez Outsiders Novels & Stories

And what is this welcoming ceremony they are referring to? “Who knows they might be pranking us. I don't have time for such craps. Let’s go home for now.” I got up from my seat then walked outside the convenience store. -- It was nearly 12 AM when I got back to my apartment. The events a while ago kept flashing in my mind. What an odd way to hand us an invitation, eh? Who could that be? What about this La Resistencia? Are there people secretly watching me? Us? Vivir o Morir? That's another odd thing about that invitation. I still haven't checked the meaning of that phrase. I'll just do it tomorrow since I'm not in the mood right now.

Without putting in the potter's stone, opening the gate would be like opening every other gate. Emilio got out of the car with a small bag in his hand. He walked over to where the weigh was, and poured the stones in it and got back to the car. "Dude, where did you get those? They're extremely hard to find." Rodriguez said to Emilio. "I have my ways and also, you're my best friend, and have been since childhood, so I would do anything for you as long as you're happy." Emilio replied and Rodriguez smiled. "Thanks, man." He said hugging Emilio.

The rest of the day went by in a blur and the last thing I remember was my weird conversations with the ghost, Jem and then there was this mysterious guy named Cyrus. Jem, a ghost that had died at my apartment. Why? I don't have the slightest idea. If he chose to tell his story he will. If he wanted. As for Cyrus, I didn’t know anything about him to trust that he meant any harm to me or anyone else at this moment. How did you know when someone was dangerous? How can you possibly know if someone's intentions are meant for good? I suppose given time their colors would possibly show but until then I will attempt to believe that this Cyrus guy was decent.

I can still see the red stains that wouldn't wash off my hands, and I can still feel the bottle digging into my feet. If I talk to my brother now, if he even hears my voice, he'll come for me. And César will kill him. He'll kill all of them. So I press the button and turn the phone off. Just like that. The screen goes black. My chest feels hollow, like something inside me broke all over again. But it's better this way. Emilio is headstrong, stubborn, and brave in all the wrong ways. He won't stop if he knows I'm alive. He'll keep searching, keep digging, until he finds me or until César finds him.

I step into the house, and its quiet, I quickly make my way towards the kitchen to grab a bottle of cold water to quench my thirst, when I spot Esther and emiliana on the floor, with emiliana curled on the floor sobbing. “Esther I leave you both for a few hours, and this is what I come back to meet, what’s happening here? I say raising my voice a little. “don’t you dareeee” says Emiliana. That’s the last thing I get to hear her say before she passes out.

"Valentina, I'll save the head seat at the table for you this time. As long as you're willing to come back, you'll be the most celebrated daughter in this family." I stared at the screen, finding it nothing short of absurd. "Don't bother. That seat's always been meant for family. An outsider like me who's beneath a rat has no business showing up and being an eyesore." Next, a heavy parcel arrived from Fabio. Inside was the family crest pin, the very one I'd once begged for and never received, the emblem that marked a core member of the Coppola family. The accompanying note merely read, "I'm sorry about everything I did. This should have been yours all along."

Joshua said. I remember one day thugs normally confront Emilio and takes money from him one day Emilio set a trap for them he came out of the bank driving himself alone having set the boys to follow the thugs followed him and the boys came after the thugs INA distant Emilio drove himself reaching a certain position in the way the thugs rushed after him he saw them on the side mirror and alerted his boys the boys rushed the thugs created the barrier for him they rushed holding pistols towards him Emilio held hands up just in time the boys and they gunned down the thugs at ones" Joshua explained.

I lit a cigar and counted the breaths I took to keep from putting a bullet in my own skull. It should’ve been me. It should have been Six. Later that night, we met Emilio at one of our quiet estates on the outskirts, where we conducted the kind of business that didn’t need ears. Emilio stood at the balcony, looking out over the vineyards. He was tall like Franco, same squared jaw, same storm-dark eyes. But there was something harder in him. More cutthroat. Franco was calm. Emilio… wasn’t. He turned as we entered. His mouth was set in a straight line. “When?” he asked, skipping pleasantries.