THE URBAN PHOENIX: Arthur Salvatore's rise from the ashes.

CHAPTER 2

FIVE YEARS AGO...

The Salvatore Mansion, Connecticut.

"Arthur, don't be an ass." The shrill voice rang through the whole room.

Arthur took a deep breath. He completely loathed family dinners such as this. He plastered a fake smile on his face and nodded before looking down and chewing on his food.

"So tell me again, Arthur," His stepmother said again in her nerve-scratching voice.

Arthur groaned inwardly. He just wanted to eat his food in peace, give a few nods and shakes of his head, and then disappear from this mansion for as long as he could.

"Tell me, What is it that you're doing in New York again?" His stepmother asked.

He knew exactly what she wanted to hear and her aim – to embarrass him even further – and he wanted to tell her to go to hell, but he did not have the guts or courage to voice out his mind, so with some difficulty, he swallowed snd said in a small voice, "Well, you see, right now, I am working two jobs…"

"Hmm," His stepmother said, playing around with her food, "And what jobs are those?"

He wanted to tell her to shove the fork up her ass because she already knew what jobs he did because he had told her already. He took in a sharp breath and said, "I, um… I am working in a food institute." He coated his words.

"Like a restaurant?" She prodded.

Arthur nodded, "Yes ma'am."

"And you're, like, a top chef or what?"

He cleared his throat and said, "I deliver food. Door to door."

High pitched laughter shrieked around the room as his stepmother laughed to her fill and clapped her hands excitedly.

Arthur swallowed this humiliation because he did not have a choice. He was only here out of respect for his grandmother, who, for some reason was not yet at the table.

"Okay okay," his stepmother tried to catch her breath, "Tell me, what is the second job?"

"I work in the sanitary department of a grocery store," Arthur mumbled.

"Like a cleaner," His stepmother clarified, "You are a cleaner at Walmart."

Arthur nodded and steeled himself against the loud laughter again. His stepmother laughed so loud and long that tears streamed down her face. "Oh, Arthur… " she said, dabbing at the corners of her eyes with a napkin, "You should consider going into comedy. You are so funny."

"Yeah, right," Arthur muttered under his breath and went back to his food. A maid came into the room and poured more wine for him.

As the maid walked away, his stepmother leaned closer to him and said in a conspiratorial whisper, "Or better still, talk to your father. We can employ you as a maid… or a cleaner," she laughed again, "If you can't talk to him, just tell me. I'll help you talk to him, okay?" She reclined back into her seat and watched Arthur's grimacing face.

Arthur was boiling with anger. He was so angry that he feared that steam might come out from his ears.

Just when he thought he was about to burst, a tall, thick man walked into the room, "Let the boy be, Clarence," he said in a deep bass voice. Arthur looked up to see his father walk to the table in perfect stride and sit down at the head of the table.

His father reached out and touched Clarence's hand and leaned in to peck her cheek. "Leave him be," He said again, "Who knows when next he will eat such a full mean when he goes back to New York. Let him enjoy it here while it lasts."

Arthur's face hardened and his lips tightened into a thin line as he heard what his father had said. And just as he thought the man was going to scold the woman for the words she was saying.

He sighed and his shoulders sagged. He was a fool for thinking that his father was going to protect him now. A protection that had not come all these years could not suddenly spring up after 20 years. He mentally face palmed himself for even hoping for a change.

He focused on chewing his food and waiting for his grandmother to join them at the table, so he could greet her and then leave back for New York.

He was almost done with his food when the sound of light but steady steps came from the stairs. He turned and looked up as his grandmother emerged from the upper floor. She was immaculately dressed, a pure gold necklace hung around her neck. There was a black obsidian pendant attached to the gold chain and her hair was pure white and thick, giving her the look of an aristocrat.

"I heard some loud noises," His grandmother said as she took a seat beside Arthur's father, "I thought perhaps we were being attacked by owls. It sure sounded like angry owls." She looked around the table but her eyes lingered a second more on Clarence before she made a sign with her hand and a maid appeared to dish her food.

She took minute bites before saying, "Arthur, you do not look like you have been eating in New York. I am sure I can count your ribs, " She said this without any scorn in her voice. Just mild scolding, how a mother that cared for her child would sound.

Arthur shrugged, "I have –"

"He's too poor to feed himself," Clarence butted in and gave a squeal, "He works as a cleaner and –"

"Edward, tell your woman to shut up!" The grandmother snapped to Arthur's father.

Edward, who was her son and Arthur's father did not need to do anything to quieten his wife, with just the tone of the grandmother's voice, Clarence had shut herself up.

The grandmother turned to Arthur and said, "You were saying something." She stroked the black pendant gently.

Arthur nodded, a bit happy that Clarence had been snapped at like that, "Um. Yeah, I mean, Yes." Arthur corrected himself before he received a scolding from his grandmother about how a man should talk. "I have been eating. But I burn out all the calories between my jobs and studying…"

"Hmm," The grandmother said. Like she was bored, but in truth, she was very interested. She took a small sip of water before asking, "And what GP are you on now?"

"Uh, 4.5 first class," Arthur said proudly.

Grandmother scoffed, "You can do better," she said, "I would expect a 4.7 before this semester is over. And at least a 4.8 on your graduation. Understand?"

"Uh yes, ma'am," Arthur nodded.

Grandmother pinned him a small stare before continuing with her food. "Shouldn't you be on your way back? It's a long way back and you can't miss a class tomorrow. Remember… 4.7 GP, okay?"

Arthur nodded and scrambled to his feet. "Uh, Goodbye, Dad," He muttered.

His father snorted without looking up.

"Goodbye Grandma," He said before walking out awkwardly.

"Give the boy a break!" He heard his grandmother snarl at his father, "It is not his fault that he is in the middle of what happened between you and his mother!"

He heard his father say something, but it was inaudible. A servant closed the door behind him gently and he walked to pack his things. It wasn't much. A toothbrush, a change of underwear and 2 shirts. He was going to wear the same trousers back.

He looked around the room where he had grown up for the major part of his life, but the room did not feel like home. It did not feel familiar.

He sighed and strapped the bag on his back before walking down the stairs and out of the mansion. He heard the clearing of throat and he turned to see his grandmother Isabella coming towards him. He stopped and went back to meet her.

"I was just about leaving, grandmother," He said.

She waved it away, and in that motion gestured around, at the large acres of land that surrounded them. "Pay your stepmother no mind, Arthur," She said.

Arthur nodded and looked away.

"One day," Grandmother Isabella said, rubbing the pendant on her chest fondly, "I hope you will be able to realize that material wealth and things don't define a person." She gripped Arthur's hand, "You are a Salvatore. You are strong. You hear me?

Arthur closed his hand over her thin leathery hand and nodded, "Yes ma'am."

"Good," his Grandmother said. She withdrew her hand and said, "You have more sense than your stepbrother." She said absently.

Arthur smiled inwardly. He had no idea where his stepbrother, Liam who was Clarence's son was. Maybe taking a holiday in Madrid. He took 6 month's holidays twice a year… all from the family's money.

His grandmother gave him a small pat on the shoulder before walking back into the house.

Arthur threw his hood over his head. He saw a slight shuffling of a shadow in the window above him. He looked closely and saw that it was his father staring down at him.

Arthur started to smile and wave but saw the look on his father's face. If looks could kill, Arthur would have been mortally wounded and almost died.

The half-smile froze on Arthur's lips and his hand stopped and hung in midair as his father gave him another hateful stare, slammed the window shut, and walked away.