Marcelo silently nodded, a brief gesture symbolizing how he understood the situation at hand. Through the short exchange still caused an air of melancholy to rattle his being, he didn’t come expecting Xiomara to instantly latch onto him. “It’s coo’, I’ve been gone for a minute, and I’m sorry for that.” He directed towards both of the females before his jet black irises landed on Xiomara cowering in her mother’s lap ”But, she was always on my mind, and I couldn’t wait to give this back to my little princess.“ He placed a hand on the table, exposing the necklace Zyla gave him before his departure resting in his palm. “Its been my lucky charm since I had to go away.”
Marcelo perused the menu until the sound of footsteps approaching the table caught his attention, his eyes immediately shot up before locking on his daughter. Marcelo found himself awestruck by Xiomara’s growth since their last encounter; no longer was she the infant that struggled to maintain her footing, she had transitioned into a beautiful child and at that moment it dawn on the male how much he’d missed. A wave of guilt forced his orbs to detach from Xiomara as a faint smile adorned his disposition when Zyla entered his line of vision. “You good, the waiter hasn’t even stopped by yet.” He assured, taking a moment to examine the female. “Plus you can’t be outchea rushin’ perfection,” Marcelo concluded as he once again looked towards Xio who was too occupied with her mother’s phone to see the adoration starting to light up her father’s eyes.
Once the maitre d’ led him to a reserved table stationed in the back, Marcelo’s dark orbs instinctively surveyed each individual occupying the crowded steakhouse. Detecting nothing but fellow customers indulging in conversation or their five-star meal, he let himself soak in the soft ambient music flowing throughout the establishment, his train of thoughts drifting towards the significant reunion ahead. While Marcelo was eager to see his daughter after so many years, a slight perturbation clawed at his mental. He couldn’t quite pinpoint which female joining him tonight was the main source of his sudden fickled emotions, but he managed to hide behind an impassive countenance as he waited for @zylcbee arrival.
Marcelo was greeted by a thick Chilango accent upon entering the palatial cathouse stationed in the heart of Beverly Hils. “Mr. Toribio is expecting you.” He nodded, allowing her to led him pass the foyer before slithering through a maze of hallways and corridors until they approached a hidden door. Security granted him access to a grandiose den where his uncle Alberto stood with a few colleagues playing pool. “Thought I gave you a meal that may have inspired your eyes to betray your stomach,” Alberto said, without glancing up from the game. “If I nutted up every time my next breath was put on the table, my stomach would be touching my back.” Marcelo riposted causing the expensively besuited men in the room to laugh. “Took a minute for me to dig through the bullshit, but I hope you ready to grub now.“ Alberto dismissed himself from the table and guided Marcelo to his secluded office.
“What’s the word on Frankie and Puchie?” His uncle questioned, flinging himself down on a swivel chair behind his massive desk. “I ran into a friend of mines at Club Tipico while I was in Miami. I did my own research the minute I touched down in L.A, but he confirmed your speculations about Frankie still moving foul after your warning. He’s snatching girls right off their mother’s tit and smuggling them in from Central America, some of em haven’t even met mother nature yet. He keeps his ‘baby dolls’ doped outta their minds while his people breaking em in and who you think providing candy? Those off brand Miami Boys rolling deep behind your homie. They have soldiers relocating to Nevada and California and in exchange Frankie’s brother letting Puchie use his old transport system. He’s moving weight from the Dominican Republic to Puerto Rico, it makes for a smoother ride to the mainland. My dude also told me Puchie going around boasting about that massacre they committed on your girls in Las Terrenas too. Motherfuckas still grieving but they’re not just gunning for me anymore.” By the time Marcelo finished speaking veins had bulged from the side of Alberto’s neck while another pulsed diagonally across his forehead. “Did you get whoever sprayed Ms. Quiñones’ block?” A Cheshire grin adorned Marcelo’s features. “El Diablo had some of his connections do a roundup while I helped Bonita and her mother finish packing; served them fools to the gators limb by limb.” Alberto sat back against his plush chair, his mind distracted with the risks and rewards of the minacious five-year war gradually spreading to the West Coast. “This isn’t your problem anymore, Puchie doesn’t have shit on your parents if they suspected you were back on the prowl. It’s time for you to enjoy your freedom and take care of your rugrats. That money you had EJ put up when you were on lockdown is in the account I told you about plus a bonus for your troubles.” Marcelo grunted, swaggering towards the threshold. “I won’t protest but Puchie’s head belongs to me, and I know you can respect that.”
We recently spoke to Marcelo Gordon Pérez, and he says being back in California again is a surreal feeling. At eighteen years old, he was taken into custody by Miami PD. Although details of his case have been withheld from the public, tabloids had a field day digging up Marcelo’s family turmoil and drug usage. They even went as far as finding his past records with the law involving assault and arson while playing a guessing game on what the infamous troublemaker had gotten himself into this time around. Marcelo pled guilty to aggravated assault and was sentenced to seven years at Baker Correctional Institution.
"Two months in I got sent to solitary confinement, I was wildin’ out. I adapted this animalistic instincts that had me ready to square up with anyone who looked at me a second too long. That's kind of how it is up in there because you never know who's feeling crazy and wants to f*** with you. But after some OGS put me onto some wisdom, I decided to use my situation as a means to better myself. I joined a few programs like SMART Recovery and I got a degree in business through a correspondence program. I also focused on my art which is one of the things that kept me sane."
Pérez was granted early release by the parole board in January for good behavior. He managed to keep a low profile until an altercation inside of LIV Miami erupted between him, his sister Aiyana Gordon Pérez, and Bonita Quiñones. Witnesses said words were exchanged between Marcelo and Ms. Quiñones before Aiyana attacked the model and creator of Bold n Beautiful Sleepwear line. Marcelo and Bonita were not strangers, the two were in a twisted relationship involving violence, sex, and hardcore drugs. It was later discovered they welcomed a child into the world when Marcelo was only fifteen years old. Marcelo also has a child with Zyla Bennett that created a scandal only a month prior to his arrest. Following the exposure of his son Marco Jamari Gordon Pérez, he made headlines again after a drive-by shooting incident in Little Havana left one dead and Marcelo in the hospital back in February. When asked for further details on the shooting, he declined to answer but he did confirm rumors of moving back to Los Angeles. He was recently spotted with ex-cast member of Black Ink Crew: Chicago Kat Tat in Beverly Hills who has taken Marcelo under her wing as an apprentice.
“This ain't the life for me, I wanna change but ain't no future right for me. I'm stuck in the game, I'm trapped inside a maze. See this Tanqueray influenced me to gettin' crazy, disillusioned lately.” — So Many Tears x Tupac
@rkola-rp
The forty-minute drive to LAX airport seemed to go by fast. Marcelo was lost in thought, occasionally peeking through the review mirror to catch his son’s eye who would send him a gleeful smile while E.J seethed over his little brother’s decision. Marcelo was supposed to leave the states and never look back, but in the midst of him packing the plan changed.
" Turn yourself in?!” E.J shrieked, watching as Marcelo sat down on the edge off his bed. “Look, we can still call pops or uncle Alberto. The police just discovered his body and Bonita wasn’t there, they can easily make this go away. Please don’t let your pride be your downfall! I already agreed to you help get out, but I’m not letting you do this.“
"Remember when I shot at Eliseo? Mama held me that whole night and cried her eyes out. At first, I thought it was the lashes she had all over her body, but as time went on I realized that was the day I became my father and she knew. The way I allowed my anger to force me to pull that trigger without so much as blinking an eye, she had to have known. Eliseo also knew because when he came home a couple of days later, he made sure to tell me he would put my ass six feet under if I ended up like him." Marcelo’s gaze fell to the floor, the sigh that slipped from his lips was of a softly deflating; it was as if tension had lifted yet left him with a melancholy instead of relief. “I've done a lot of shit you couldn't imagine, got a couple of souls who will be knocking at my door come judgment day, but the one thing I said I would never do is put my hands on a woman. This isn't about my pride or some grimy ass drug dealer, he's just another nigga I'll be seeing in my sleep. I literally blacked out and almost killed the mother of my child while my son was only a few feet away. Marco could have walked in at any moment and saw the monster his father really is. I'm losing control of myself and it’s only a matter of time before I end up wearing my Sunday’s best in a coffin. This is the best thing I can do for me and my kids"
"F-For your kids? Marcelo you aren’t going to see your kids anytime soon if you go through with this! God, you've picked a hell of a time to let your moral compass led the way. You think they're going to give you a light sentence because you turned yourself in and showed some remorse? No, you're a black man in America with priors. They're going to lock you up and throw away the key. That's after they finish crucifying you and from what you've told me about her, Bonita will be the one to hand them the nails." At that moment, E.J was sure Marcelo had lost what he had left of his sanity because he stood up and placed a hand on his shoulder with a smile on his face. "Maybe so, but for once in my life, I’m not running or scheming my way out of the mess I created. It’s time for me to right my wrongs; all of them.”
When E.J stopped at the terminal and cut the music that hummed through the speakers of his car off, he continued to stare straight ahead. Marcelo’s blatant disregard for his future had twerked his last nerve and left him with nothing else to say. “I know you don't understand me, no one ever does, but everything I've done has been my fucked up way of taking care of the people I love; including this. I hope someday you can forgive me." After bidding a farewell to his brother, Marcelo exited the vehicle before grabbing his son from the backseat. The little boy entangled his fingers with his father's as they strolled towards the revolving door. Rolling down the passenger window, E.J prayed Marcelo would turn around one last time to see the tears he let run down his cheeks but he never did. Once his brother disappeared from his line of vision, E.J grabbed his phone and called their father.
“I called myself protecting you, Zy. It’s always been about protecting you and your future. The less I withhold from you the better because I’ve got skeletons in my closet that are bound to come out sooner than later and I didn’t want you getting suffocated by them. I don’t want to hold you back because you decided to take a chance on someone who you could have done way better than. I especially don’t want my child reaping the sins of their father which was why I didn’t want this situation in the first place.” He countered while the frisky child shimmied about on his knees, resulting in his hold around her slightly tightening as she giggled. “Whether you believe it or not, I had every intention on being the best father I could to Xio. I just— I’ve done something that I don’t know if I can get myself out of this time around and-” The sound of footsteps slapping against the wooden stairs cut Marcelo off as Marco came marching towards the living room with E.J chasing after him. “Daddy, E.J cheating!” The four year old complained, coming to a halt and tugging at Marcelo’s sleeve. E.J’s eyes switched between Zyla and his brother once he made it to the room before capturing Coco by the hand. “Come on Marco, daddy is having an adult conversation right now.” Marco didn’t move, instead, he briefly took in Xiomara, his eyes leaving her to glance at Zyla before pouting up at his father. “Give me a couple more minutes Coco and I’ll help you take him down.” Although he felt like his heart was skipping a few beats, Marcelo forcefully returned the smile that graced his son’s lips as Marco nodded his head before allowing E.J to led him back upstairs. Marcelo let out a breath. For once, he couldn’t seem to form a sentence so he remained quiet while the little girl wiggling around in his arm.
Marcelo didn’t waste any time reaching for the vocal child once she tottered to him. Despite the smile that faltered from Zyla’s features as she digested his words, he picked Xiomara up. Her little face glowed from a light within, producing a hint of a smirk from Marcelo. Again, guilt began to peck at his conscience but he smoldered it with indignation as his eyes snapped back to the female. “A reason I don’t expect you to understand. Hell, you’re judging right now and I can't act like I’m surprised. You got your mind made up about me without knowin’ a damn thang.” Marcelo released a bitter chuckle, his attention moving back to the little girl occupying his lap as her miniature fingers grasped his. “And let’s be real, you didn’t want me in her life at all in the first place. I wouldn’t know she existed if TMZ hadn’t put you on blast. In the end, you gettin’ what you wanted shawty.”
Locking the door behind them, Marcelo followed Zyla before slumping down on the loveseat across from her. He forced his gaze to meet anything but the little girl accompanying the female. Her appearance didn’t spark the same reaction as before, instead, it made the task at hand even more difficult. A part of him felt guilty. Like he was picking one child over the other but under the circumstances, Marcelo didn’t have much of a choice. Swallowing the lump forming in his throat, Marcelo’s orbs landed on Zyla. “I’m leaving and don’t know when I’ll be back.” His eyes slowly shifted to Xiomara. “I just wanted to hold her at least once before I go.”
While his brother and son sat in the living room enjoying the takeout they’d ordered, Marcelo constantly fiddled with his knuckles, weaving his fingers in and out of each other as he constructed scenarios for the conversation ahead. The sound of the doorbell plucked him out of his thoughts, his attention moving towards E.J whose posture stiffened. Both males were on high alert, E.J convinced the police would show up any moment to arrest Marcelo for kidnapping or worst; murder. “It’s probably Zyla” Marcelo assured, standing to his feet before addressing Marco. “Alright little man, I need you to hang out with E.J upstairs for a minute. You can finish that racing game we got paused.” That’s all it took to get Marco feet moving as E.J shuffled behind. Marcelo headed towards the front door, glancing through the peephole before opening the door. “Come on in and make yourself comfortable. Excuse the mess though, I got company upstairs. ” The male said as he stepped back, allowing Zyla inside.
His stare remained on the wall, fearing if he so much as glanced in Zyla’s direction, anger would engulf him whole. “I just want you to know I’m in this all the way since you already seemed to have your mind made up that I’d be an incompetent father.” He retorted, a dry chuckle following after. Marcelo felt Zyla move from the couch, his gaze locking on Xiomara as she brought her closer. Again, he became lost in her angelic face. As he continued to admire every detail from her short dark mane to her button nose, his own self-doubt started gnawing at his gut. Like the day he held his son in his arms for the first time, Marcelo silently prayed he wouldn’t pass Mars the same corrupted moralities that his father had passed to him. The male resisted the urge to reach out and touch her cheek as he ripped his irises from Xiomara. “No.” He finally shot, quickly standing to his feet “It’s late and you should probably get her to bed. I’ll let myself out. See you Sunday.” With that, he trudged towards the front door.
Zyla’s tongue rattled the inexpressive persona he was trying his best to display. The confrontation with one baby mama had shortened his patiences and currently plagued his thoughts, now the other was choosing to get under his skin. Marcelo’s lids fluttered closed, a voiceless count down barely keeping him at bay. As his eye reopened, his blazing glare found a spot on the wall. “I’ve been nothing but respectful to you since I entered this house, right? Either you can show me the same by dropping that attitude you starting to catch or I can match your energy and we won’t get anywhere.” The little girl in his peripheral vision soothed Marcelo. He wanted to scoop her in his arms, but it wasn’t the right time. Though she was too young to remember, he didn’t want her first bond with her father while he rocked the war mark he’d obtained from his father and the bandaged gashes on his palms from wrestling a blade out from Bonita’s grasp. His hands shrank into his pockets as he finished digesting the indignation that filled him before getting back to business. “Now, I’m free whenever you are, especially since I’m finishing school online. Keep in mind I still have my rights Zy, doesn’t matter how you’re feeling.”
Marcelo remained quiet as he followed behind Zyla. After removing the Burberry cap over his head he spotted the elderly women, politely nodding as she shuffled out the room. His eyes met Zyla, a deep gaze momentarily burning into her before finding a seat on the couch. “ What happens now is we gradually welcome me into her life. However you and your family choose to address the public on your behalf isn't up to me. My father already has his PR team working on my statement. Like I told you, my only concern at this point is Xiomara. She won’t latch onto me instantly since she doesn’t know who I am.” A tinge of hurt maneuvered its way into his voice and features as his attention briefly moved to his daughter before he gained his blank expression again as his orbs shifted back to her mother; his tone just as rigid. “So we’ll have to work out visitations that fit the both of our schedules and hopefully we can reach a mutual point where I can have some time alone with her.”
Upon the door opening, Marcelo’s attention immediately landed on the little girl attached to Zyla’s hip. A warm sensation snatched him into a tight hug as the corner of his pair twitched while he observed Xiomara’s features. The moment didn’t last when his vision captured Zy. He swallowed any nasty remark that might have been on the tip of his tongue, an impassive countenance greeting her. “Hope I didn’t wake you, I know you weren’t anticipating I’d show up but my flight landed later than expected,” Marcelo uttered as he glided inside the house.
His sister’s thumb caressing the garish purple splotch bruising his cheek thrust Marcelo out of his power nap. Realizing her car was in park, his weary orbs drifted towards the passenger's window and the sight of @zylcbee father’s house caused a low sigh to emit from his duo. He didn't miss the same deep, audible breath that released from Aiyana while a sneer twisted her glossed lips. "Keep your ass stationed in this car Yana, I mean it. Nuh trouble, til trouble trouble yuh.” The male warned as he climbed out of her Maserati Quattroporte, slamming the door close just when she started to protest. He seized his iPhone XR from his pocket, slight vex forcing his brows together as he gazed at their thread after typing up a message. His fingers paused, reaching up to massage the creases forming on his forehead until they disappeared before he hit send.
Marcelo's head ricocheted against the ceramic floor causing stars that would usually glaze the night sky to dance in his line of vision. The last thing he saw before complete darkness was his father's fist charging at him like an angry bull.
02/18/2019
A choking gasp racked through Marcelo’s chest, forcing him to bolt into an upright position and frantically scan his old bedroom. He finally found the concerned gaze observing him from the frame of the door. “When did you get in and why are you watchin’ me like I’m one of ya brizzas?” His brother E.J ignored him, striding further into the room. When he reached the foot of the California king-sized bed, an uneasy grimace played upon his wide lips. “You still have those nightmares?" There was no point denying the obvious, so Marcelo nodded slowly before changing the subject. “You didn’t have to come, EJ. I know you have a game tomorrow and Barcelona needs their best midfielder if they got a chance at winning against the Lyons.”
“And I’ll be there, but I wasn't going to let you face him by yourself without backup. Mami and Aiyana were tossing bottles of Chateau Petrus back like it was Wray & Nephew when I got in this morning. Yanna told me how you went all postal so I thought it was best if they had a girls day. They didn’t need to deal with pop after that.” Marcelo’s eyes dropped from E.J at the disappointment evident in his brother’s voice. “I just been tossing ah pebble of my fury at a lake, letting my rage turn into ripples at the wrong people, pero te prometo que no volverá a suceder. Marcelo assured moving off the bed and slipping into his Balenciaga slides. “I know it won’t, but you still need to get that under control. It’s not good for you or anyone else’s health.” E.J said as he wrapped an arm around Marcelo's shoulders, pulling him into a hug. “He’s here isn’t he?” His brother wasn’t the type to show physical affection unless it was absolute. "Yeah, he got in about two hours ago. Juanita had the staff serve him breakfast so you could get a little more sleep. We both figured you weren’t in a rush to see him. He's waiting for you in the billiard room with Uncle Alberto." Though he was haunted by one of the many dark memories that would penetrate his dreams, Marcelo was thankful for the three hours of sleep he managed to get. His night consisted of Bonita assaulting his eardrums when he finally made the effort to call her. “Me gustaría hablar con mi hijo solo,” Eliseo spoke after Marcelo and E.J made it to the right wing of the house. "Anything you have to say to him you can say in front of me." Eliseo's impassive expression didn't falter, but Marcelo caught the scorching stare E.J received. He gave his brother a nod, letting him know it was okay. They held each other’s gaze before E.J sighed. “Alright, I’ll be down the hall,” He informed as he started towards the door with Alberto following behind. Eliseo wasn’t into formal greetings unless a check is involved. He was about business, and that’s exactly what he got down to once they were alone. "I already have my people looking into the leak. Whoever is responsible will be dealt with accordingly. What I need you to tell me is how you could be so stupid, huh? When she told you she was pregnant, you should’ve come to me instead of taking matters into your own hands. I’m sure her parents would have agreed bringing a child into the world at your age wasn’t a good idea, especially with how dysfunctional you all relationship were. Do you even know if it really is y—”
“Her name is Xiomara, not it,” Marcelo growled, his father instinct kicking in which Eliseo merely scoffed at. "How do you know Xiomara is your child? Zyla really went out of her way to hide Xiomara from you when you were already aware she was pregnant, why not just tell you she decided to keep it? I mean, you didn’t do that well of a job hiding your infidelities and hell hath no fury like a woman scorned. It'd be easier to put this responsibility on the person who she was publicly with at the time. Her family could handle this kind of backlash better than their daughter taking on the label as a —”
"You're kiddin', right?” Marcelo interposed, “My past is dirtier than one of Uncle Alberto's whorehouses and most of it is out for the world to see. If I was Zyla, from the type of family she comes from, the last thing I would do is pin a baby on me. Besides, I bet they’ve seen the video of you draggin' my mother out of that elevator like she was a rag doll. Let’s not forget abuelo made headlines when he straight up murdered your mother. Dig deep enough, and they might just find that police report you made disappear on how you almost took mines out as well. Yeah, we got dough outta our asses, but that doesn’t make up for what our family is known for. I wouldn't purposely want anything like that attached to my name. Drop that Maury Povich show you’re trying to kick up because it doesn't make any sense." He retorted through clenched jaws. Marcelo didn't know why he felt the need to take up for Zyla's honor against his father's accusations. Of course, his feelings for her were as volatile as their relationship was. He knew he loved her, but he hated how they couldn't be together. She came from respectable people and she had a future that Marcelo wasn’t sure he would live to participate in. Plus, he couldn't allow her to be strangled by his or his family's scandalous reputation. Unbeknown to most, he had intentionally sabotaged his own relationship. Too selfish to give up the only thing that made him happy at the time, he’d push Zyla until she had enough; Marcelo just didn't expect they would end on her being pregnant and him almost attacking her over the fate of their unborn child. Eliseo’s eyes blazed with animosity, his stony persona dropping the minute Marcelo brought up his deceased mother."Just because you might have gone half on some bastard child, doesn't mean you can talk to me like you’re a man! No toleraré la misma falta de respeto como lo hace tu madre! Since you're positive that the kid is yours, how do you plan to take care of her? She didn't come out of my nutsack so I hope you don't expect me to provide for her like she did. I’ve enabled you enough to the point that you think you can do and say whatever you want!"
“Habilitado yo? Everything you've given me has been nothing but your way of apologizing for how poorly you've treated me. Aiyana and E.J experienced your wrath, but I always got the worst of it. And you want to know why? Because whenever you look at me, it's like staring in the mirror, I'm everything you despise about yourself: the only difference between us is that I didn't sit back like a coward when my mother was getting beat as if she was a grown man. Now stop actin’ like I’m the same eleven year old you can put through a floor ‘cause I’m not" Marcelo ridiculed, “Nah, I’ll beat ya like ah nigga on the street that owes me some funds.” Eliseo's muscles stiffened, his head cocking to the side. “Cojones gettin’ too big for your own good, mijo.” He laughed condescendingly as he continued to instigate the suffocating tension. “You think I use to fucked you up back then? When I’m done with you now a doctor won’t be able to bring you back.” That’s all it took to set Marcelo off. He leaped forward, a demonic rage twisting his features. His brown orbs fired flames as he swung his fist against his father's jaw. Eliseo stumbled back before lunging at Marcelo, and their battle for dominance commenced. They wrestled one another against walls, the sound of knuckles colliding with bones filled the air. E.J and Alberto charged into the room, separating the father and son. Alberto held Eliseo as E.J captured Marcelo’s forearms in a tight grip. Spitting blood on the floor as he breathed heavily, Marcelo gazed at his father with hatred. “Me and mines good without you, my nigga! You don’t gotta worry about providing a damn thing because lu’l shawty won’t even be at your funeral.” He roared as E.J hauled him out of the room. At that moment, Marcelo made up his mind. He didn’t know how but he was going to be the father Eliseo never was to both of his children. "Come on Marcelo I’m going to stop at your house so you can pack some clothes, you're coming with me back to Spain for a bit to chill out. " E.J calmed, leading him out the front door and towards his rental car.
