Joey Diaz Novels & Stories

I sat alone in that row of three seats, and cried and cried and cried. "Donna?" I looked up to see a tall, lanky man with an overgrown beard. "I'm Angelo." He offered. "I am Sergio's underboss." I nodded. "I'm not your Donna. Your Don is inside fighting for his life because of me." Angelo eyed the seat beside me, and I told him to sit down. "Jace is dead." He said. "Good." "Landon is alive, but we have him now." I nodded. "Okay."

Fetching out a tumbler, he brought a bottle of whiskey and filled half glass for himself. He took a sip just as his phone dinged and he brought it out to see that he has been credited, he dropped the phone and took another sip but the ringtone started blaring and he picked up the phone again to see an unknown caller. Answering it, he heard from the other end, “El Diablo, can we see tonight? I have a business proposal for you.”

His eyes darted in the direction of Daisy. “Daisy Richard.” “What roles are you both vying for?” He questioned. Was this an interview? The CEO of the restaurant chose to interview us himself. This was great. Finally, a place that decided to interview us without chasing us away. “Waitress. We can also do cleaning jobs,” Daisy responded. “Then why do I have both CVs bearing the name, Billy Jones? And Billy Jones is filing for resignation from her job.”

I said as I fought a smile. “You give them everything and this is how they treat you,” Gabe sighed. “I’ll get started on your mythical. I’m Adea. What can I get you?” I asked his friend. “I heard. I’m Leo. I’ll take what Gabriel’s having,” he said. He wore a white baseball cap flipped back, his blonde hair was shaved short, but long in the front. He was handsome, his light brown eyes stared at me with interest and a hint of jealousy. As if there was anything to be jealous about between me and Gabe.

“I thought you had got better.” “Well, doctor Quinn told me that this stomach flu would stay for a few weeks,” I told Daisy, and when I turned around, I saw her holding something that I thought I had thrown away. The blood drained from my face, and for a moment, I felt my heart come to a stop. “Or maybe it isn't the stomach flu after all.” she asserted. “Daisy, I…” “Does Beta Rodriguez know about this, Miss. Abel?” she asked me when I shook my head when I felt my back hit the sink as I fell to the floor. “It's not his child?” she asked me when I shook my head.

I read story after story of tragedy; whole families killed, children left orphaned, businesses destroyed… and then I came across the memorial piece for the Luna. A black and white image of her funeral took up the whole front page. The photographer had captured the shot from the side, showing Julius standing at her coffin, wearing a plain black suit, his head held high as he looked forward into nothingness. There was no evidence that he had shed any tears, in fact his face seemed to lack emotion altogether. It mirrored the face of the man who stood beside him, an older gentleman who I assumed was his father.

Beside him stood Standfast, a bit shorter but no less imposing, with a sneer playing on his lips. Standfast, around nineteen, had a more rugged demeanor compared to Phillip. His face, while not conventionally handsome, bore the marks of someone who had seen their fair share of trouble. He had a solid build, indicating a readiness for action rather than words. His eyes held a steely intensity, hinting at a volatile temperament kept in check only by Phillip's presence.

Nic looked at me and I hated that I was thinking about the cabin, which meant my face was not as serious as it should have been. I nodded to avoid them staring too long. "You need to tell us everything." "Ok. Fatty is my boss." he held onto the wound on his thigh that was gushing blood and at that rate, He would die from the wound infection than from any bullet I was going to shoot him with. "Does fatty have a real name?" He blinked once, twice and I stepped closer, catching a whiff of something unpleasant from him. "Finn Connolly. But we all call him fatty, everyone calls him fatty."

Kai approached from behind, his breath misting in the cold. “They’ve surrounded the east and the south,” he said. “Scouts say Darius is leading the front line himself. And that bitch is dead. You don't need to worry about her. Her head was hung for those who will see and try to betray again.” “Of course he is,” I muttered, not bothering about Selene. “He wouldn’t send someone else to do what he believes only he can finish. He knows what he wants to deal with and he's not going to stop until he dies. Because I know him, even if he wins, he's going to keep digging up until he hits his grave.”

Dean: “This is Kai’s symbol.” I said, looking at the drawing on the wall. It was his symbol. A phoenix. He often said that he believed that he was one. The more he died, emotionally, I mean, he became stronger. It was the main reason why he had it as his first tattoo when we were younger, claiming it as his symbol. The fucked up bastard drew it with Theodore’s blood. “Wasn’t Kai dead?” Lyov asked, frowning in confusion. “The man was shot by you.”