My name is Alejandro Enrique de la Cruz.
I was born in New York city in December of 1995.
Both of my parents were originally from Madrid, Spain. My father was of impressive military lineage, and my mother was a fashion designer- she was actually a gringa (white girl)- with great potential that would never be noticed according to both her and my father's deaths in '99. Our apartment in New York was burgalarized and burned down. My parents were both shot to death.
A fireman managed to salvage me from the wreckage of the building hours later, as I had remained hidden, asleep in my closet with my pet dog, Pooka, who did not survive.
I grew up in a catholic monestary. Or was it something else? I didn't pay attention, because the place was crap. The nuns there were crap. Strict. Ugly.
When I was twelve, I snuck through the ventilation shafts, snuck out, and never returned.
I bumped into a few street-wise prostitutes- both male and female- and they raised me.
I acted just like them. I called myself a whore.
But do you want to know something?
I'm a virgin.
The money I got? ...I actually worked at a nice job as a waiter. The whores in my district always wondered how I got so much money, and when I said "I earned it through hard work" they asked me, "How the hell many do you manage in one night? You must be good, nino."
Nah. Not me.
When they would ask to sleep with me, as well, to see just how "bueno" I was, I would turn them down. Every time. And they thought I had an ego.
I figured, So be it. I don't want sex. It scares me. I don't want it with anyone who doesn't mean a thing to me.
Prostitute?
...No.
Just a poor little orphaned Spanish boy.
"De le Cruz" means "of the cross".
Well, where the Hell is God when I need Him, if my name is so "holy"?
Fuck Him. I can get by on my own. As I always have.
My name is Tequila.
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