The first time I saw Ronnie, I saw him as someone I should respect and, at the same time, someone I'd want as a friend. Don't ask me why, I just felt it and that's it.

I'm not the gossipy type, and if I'm curious, I wait until I'm comfortable with the other person before asking questions that sound as casual as possible. The scene where he invites me into his room to look for a tool and I see the variety of utensils he owned still haunts my dreams.

If he wore suits most of the time and hardly ever looked dirty, why did he need so many tools? One of the reasons he caught my attention from the start was that Ronnie spoke with a neutral tone of voice, rarely peppered with local slang, and he was very good at all kinds of repairs and knew a lot of things.

The nightmare began the day I was coming back from the gym after swimming practice. I was tired and eating a sandwich as I made my way to the parking lot when a couple of guys approached me and attacked me. It was over as quickly as it began. With my nose bleeding, I felt my left arm being pulled.

"Come on, stand up."

Ronnie dragged me to his car and drove out of town.

Ronnie dragged me to his car and drove out of town. Amid the rush and the pain from the beating I'd received, I noticed his things, and mine, if not everything, were in the passenger seat. Leaning against the passenger door with my nose bleeding, I felt like a scolded child. I kept thinking that, as soon as things calmed down, I'd ask Ronnie about the guys who attacked me.

After two hours on the road, I couldn't stand the mystery anymore.

"Where are we going?" My voice sounded strange, and breathing hurt.

"To your dad's house."

"Why?" The last thing I wanted was to see that old man. As if he hadn't given me enough trouble already.

His private life was anything but private. His decisions made me the talk of the town at school and university, and when it came to finding a job, his fame preceded me, and my resumes were rejected. The job I got was thanks to a friend of his who took pity on me.

"I don't get along with him. Take me somewhere else," I ordered. I thought that if my father had hired him, he'd see me as his employer's son and obey me.

"You're not my boss. Now shut up or you'll start sneezing again."

I was annoyed and resigned the whole way. I felt hungry, and just as I opened my mouth to ask his permission to get something, he blurted out:

"You don't have to ask my permission. If you're hungry, eat."

Aside from being annoyed and annoyed, I was also scared, and my escape plans were thrown in the recycling bin. When we finally arrived, I discovered we were in a house I'd never seen before. I kept thinking that if things went wrong, I could die without anyone noticing.

Ronnie led me into the building, and after passing through a door that led to a large living room, I saw Lorenzo Méndez, my father's friend.

The pressure in my chest vanished. My frown was replaced by raised eyebrows that relaxed the muscles in that area of my face. Lorenzo invited me to sit down and ordered Ronnie to take a break.

Lorenzo told me that Dad made the stupidest decision in the history of impulsive decisions and got himself killed. Naturally, a father's debts tend to be passed on to his children, and the guys were after me.

I imagined that Lorenzo, being like a father to me, Ronnie called him as such.