Post by steph3 on Nov 13, 2011 21:34:55 GMT -5
| [atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=cellPadding,10,true][atrb=style, background-color: #131313;,true][cs=2] DOMINIC OMAR TORRES  | |
| [atrb=width,200] nickname Dom. birthday 31/09/1986 place of birth Barcelona, Spain. gender male | [atrb=width,200] sexuality heterosexual. nationality Spanish. membergroup tourist. play by Danny Schwarz |
| [cs=2] likes: cars, racing, money, mechanics, food, beer. dislikes: disrespect, moving a lot, his father, the police, light beer. personality: strong, independent, stubborn, womanizer, adrenaline junkie. family: Carlota Torres - mother | Jason Meadham - father | Carlos Torres - older brother | Melanie Torres - younger sister. history: Life. Family. Blood. Women. In the end, it all leads to one thing. If you don't know how to run, if you don't know how to race, if you don't know about cars, you will not survive in this jungle. I didn't grow up in a life of luxury. We were a working class family with typical working class problems. We mostly lived pay check to pay check in a small apartment in Barcelona. My mother was a waitress in the tourist district, a maid to some of the upper class families, and worked in the laundry center of a major Hilton Hotel also in the tourist district. She worked when she was sick, when she was pregnant, and done to the day she died when Melanie was born. It was never fair, really, the kind of life she led. And it was why Carlos and I made it out business to make it easier on her while she could still pull through. I knew my dad up until I was five years old. He sent us letters, called us whenever he could. He said things were going great in his business ventures in America. He'd wire us money but Carlos and I usually wired it back. Mom didn't want his charity. She was still upset he'd up and left her the way he had with a ten year old and a five year old. As we got older, we learned not to keep waiting for him to come around. He was a low life who gave up his family for what? For nothing because, as Carlos and Mom always told me, without family-you are absolutely nothing and you have absolutely nothing. Blood is thicker than water-always. When I was thirteen, Carlos taught me how to take apart an engine. He was a pro at it. Of course he was. He said he'd teach me how to drive once I learned how to take apart and engine and put it back together. Until then-I wouldn't learn anything. I had to breathe the car, know it's inner and outer working before I could ever ride it. He said it was the same with women. Learn her habits, what makes her tick, the little details and the bigger picture will be so much easier to understand and before you know it-your riding her like you have her heart in the palm of your hand. I never used women like Carlos did. I respected them more, though I did always notice he only ever disrespected the ones that deserved it; the ones that were strippers or prostitutes for a living. I don't believe in that kind of thing. There is always a way to find a job. Resorting to selling your body is disgraceful. By fourteen, I was sitting behind the steering wheel. By sixteen, I was drag racing through the streets against the top dogs, learning, finally, how it was Carlos was bringing in so much money to help mom out and where he even got all the cars in the parking garage from. Soon enough, though, everything always comes crashing down. Dad came home when I was seventeen. He just showed up in front of the door, knocking and wanting to see us but when we opened the door, he was greeted by, not the two boys he left behind, but men who grew up. Carlos was dealing drugs and drag racing full time and I was in school, making sure I stayed in school because it was what Mom wanted, and drag racing on the weekends-just to keep my name cleared and out of the papers. When he looked at us, he knew we weren't as welcoming as we used to be. I remember hearing him tell Mom that we seemed cold and distant, that we weren't as sunny and bright as we used to be. Well, life dealt us a shitty hand and we were working through it the best we could. Carlos was killed when I was nineteen years old. Apparently a drug deal went wrong and he was shot while he was in Madrid. I'd told him a thousand times not to go since he didn't know the area and it could get messy but he told me to hold down the fort at home and that if anything-to make sure mom was safe. Dad could fend for himself. When word reached us that Carlos was killed, Mom was destroyed. She seemed like a zombie for a while before she finally seemed to perk up. Her cheeks suddenly seemed rosier, a glow to her suddenly making that tiny apartment less like a funeral home and more like the spring time. I was twenty when Mom and Dad announced Mom was pregnant. At first, I was happy-for mom-but I wasn't excited at the fact it was him who would be the father. He'd left her once...couldn't she see that? He'd just leave us again... But this time, he didn't leave us. Mom did. She died giving birth to Melanie, who was the spitting image of all her old photographs. She got Mom's last name. Dad said it was in her honor but I figured it was just so he wouldn't have to take responsibility for her should the time come for it. It was around this time I got more involved in drag racing and eventually, the police caught up with me. Needing to clear my name, I moved around Spain, constantly keeping in contact with Dad to make sure he fucking stayed with Mel. The last thing she needed was to not have family around and despite Dad being the man he was, he was still family and we were stuck with him. I made it into France and Portugal and I made it back to Barcelona for Mel's fourth birthday before I made my way to America where Dad said he'd wire me money in New York City. I continued racing to gain more money, occasionally moving drugs when necessary. I held a few steady jobs as a mechanic but nothing lasted very long. I could only change my name and location so many times. Eventually, I made it to Sapphire Bay where I've been for about a week, doing the racing scene over in Los Angeles. So far, the police haven't been a problem and I know, eventually, 'll have to stop running. But until then... Well, I got legs don't I? steph - 20 - mhm! |
