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Happy Birthday?	By : Ender_Menon Category: +S through Z > The Sims Views: 4534 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Sims 3. I make no money from writing this work.

Chapter List
- 9
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Shark awoke to an empty bed, and the smell of breakfast coming from the main room. He looked around the room, finding nothing impressive about it.
He'd assumed Sinbad would have some sort of...something on the walls, like band posters, maybe pictures of motorcycles or vintage cars. But the walls were devoid of any decoration.
In fact, besides the bed and nightstand, the only pieces of furniture in the room were a desk and dresser. Two windows in the corner gave sight to a bit of the lake. A sliding door to the left gave entrance to the deck.
Had Shark not known any better, he'd assumed he was dreaming. Instead, he had to realize that last night really happened. He really was intimate with a man who confessed his love for him.
"You awake yet, Sleeping Beauty?" The teen looked over to the now opened door. Sinbad stood in front of it, holding a small tray. A lit cigarette was between his lips. He looked slightly cranky. Shark nodded to answer his question. When he did, Sinbad approached him and handed him the tray.
The teen hadn't expected anything fancy. All that was presented to him was a typical run-of-the-mill breakfast; A pancake, two strips of bacon, a piece of buttered toast, and a glass of orange juice. It wasn't much, but Shark still appreciated Sinbad's gesture.
Shark had had borderline gourmet meals back at the mansion. The problem was that it was usually made without any love (and Bill usually ate most of it anyway). Sinbad actually took the time and effort to make something just for him.
Though he was reluctant to start eating, Shark picked up a strip of bacon and started eating. He hadn't noticed Sinbad left to get something, until he came back and sat behind him.
Shark had already started on his toast when he felt a comb start running through his hair. Sinbad casually ran it through his wavy brown locks.
"Your hair's a fucking rat's nest, man." As if to prove his point, the comb hit a rough spot in Shark's hair. Shark yelped when he felt Sinbad practically yank it through. Besides that, it was surprisingly comforting, perhaps even therapeutic.
Neither of them said anything. Shark quietly ate his meager breakfast, Sinbad combed his hair until it was smooth and shiny. When both were done, the older of the two wrapped his arms around the boy's torso.
Taken in by the amount of warmth, Shark leaned back and rested his head onto Sinbad's chest. They still said nothing, until they were interrupted by the door opening again.
"Sinbad, I thought I told you to take the trash out last night when I left!" Shark recognized the voice, although it was a bit more irritated this time. The person that made himself was none other than Officer Goode from the station.
In actuality, Shark didn't recognize him out of uniform at first. In contrast to the black of the police ensemble, he now wore all white.
"Do you just neglect to do what I tell you to do just to anger me-" He stopped talking when he saw the sight presented upon him.
"Sinbad, what...What is this?" His voice lowered to that of a whisper. Sinbad put a hand on Shark's forehead, and took hold of his arm.
"Nice to see you home, Goody-Two-Shoes," the redhead snarked, before becoming serious. "This...Is my way of fixing things." Shark was beginning to slip into some kind of deep sleep, and was trying to keep himself from doing so.
"Officer Goode?" The blonde turned to look at him now. "What are you doing here?"
"I..." The out of uniform policeman bit his lip, as though he were trying to find the right answer. "I live here, with Sinbad."
Shark looked up at Sinbad. "When you said you had a 'loser' roommate...You didn't say he was a police officer!"
Sinbad shrugged. "Didn't seem important at the time. Besides, Goodwin here and I obviously ain't what you call chummy."
Goodwin shot a nasty look at Sinbad, then his gaze softened up when he looked at Shark again. "Actually, since you're here, this makes it easier to run down things with you."
"What kind of things?" Shark sat up again, dragging himself off the bed. Goodwin smiled.
"Come with me, and I'll tell you."

Shark was now sitting at the table in the other room. He leaned back onto one of the four chairs, while he waited for Goodwin to retrieve something from a bag sitting nearby.
"I can see Sinbad cooked breakfast for you. That's not like him at all." Shark listened to him mutter as he rooted through his bag.
"It's not?" The blonde looked up and shook his head.
"Sometimes he makes breakfast instead of me, but he never makes anything for anyone other than himself. In fact, him being even remotely nice to anyone is unheard of." Goodwin shook his head again, this time to get his mind back on topic.
"Anyway, your uncle requested that I show you what's recently happened to the other Racket family members. Normally, we would not disclose that sort of information, but...it seemed as if you had a right to know what's happened." Shark saw him stand back up, holding a large thick folder. The word "CONFIDENTIAL" was stamped on the side.
"How recent are we talking?" Shark asked as Goodwin took a seat across from him. Goodwin's face took on a grim expression.
"Very recent. As in, between yesterday morning to now." He opened the folder and began sorting the papers that were inside. "I stopped by the police station right before I came home. I'm going to warn you, some of these pictures might be somewhat graphic."
When Goodwin was finished, Shark began looking over what was presented to him. There were papers that mentioned words he didn't know, important-looking documents, and several black-and-white pictures. The pictures were indeed what disturbed him the most.
"In case you don't understand all this, here." Goodwin handed him a note with writing on it. It had all his relatives' names on it, along with something different next to each of them. Unlike the official documents, this was much more informal, and more to the point:
Racket, Marigold-Committed to asylum

Racket, Max-Suicide, hanging

Racket, Bill-Suicide, gunshot wound

Racket, Silver-Suicide, alcohol/drug overdose

Racket, Lolly-In Foster Care

Racket, Dennis-Death Row, lethal injection
Reading the last two words caused Shark's blood to run cold. He had only assumed his father would just get prison for life, not the death sentence.
"Your family was known for numerous crimes, many of them quite heinous. If I could freely say so, this is nothing compared to what they should have gotten as punishment. I...It's still rather horrifying to know that's what happened to them."
Shark didn't answer. He got a closer look at the pictures. There was his grandfather hanging from a ceiling, his neck with a rope tied around it.
Another picture had a body covered by a white sheet. The alcohol bottles and pill containers close by implied it was his mother's corpse.
Then there was a picture of Bill. Or rather, Bill with a good portion of his brains blown out.
The combination of these images brought Shark almost to the brink of vomiting. He had to look away and breathe deeply several times, in an attempt to regain his composure.
"Your father is to be executed this afternoon. I would...If there's anything that needs to be said, I would recommend you do it before then." Shark, overcome with the potential to say what he needed to say, looked back up at Goodwin and nodded.

"I don't know why you came along," Shark said as he followed behind Sinbad. The halls of Death Row were freakishly bright, and lined with cages. Some of them contained people, many of them looking ready to strike.
Sinbad scoffed at the presumably stupid question. "Think you're the only one wanting to talk to your daddy? Believe me, there are things I gotta bring up with the former boss man. Things I'd rather not say to to you." The cells seemed to get emptier the farther down they got.
Then, Sinbad stopped in front of one. Shark looked over, and saw his father laying on a bench, presumably napping. By instinct, the boy moved out of sight. The redhead looked over at him, then rolled his eyes and approached the bars.
"Hey, man," Sinbad said, as he leaned on the front of the cell. Shark heard grunting, then chuckling along with footsteps.
"Well, hello to you, Mister Rotter! Come to visit me before my time comes?" Dennis sounded far too cheery for a man about to be executed.
"Of course I did. I'm guessing you heard about me quitting? You know, news travels fast and all." Shark began to shiver. Being so close to his father after what happened frightened him.
"I have indeed. In fact, I was hoping to see you if you did. See, I can't let you go without a sort of 'severance payment' for such good service to the syndicate. I suppose my last act as your boss is letting you choose what it is you like." Dennis chuckled a couple of times before he finished. "Name anything, anything at all, and it's yours."
"Anything? Anything I want, huh?" Sinbad briefly looked over at Shark. It was so quick, Shark could've sworn he imagined it. He then looked intently through the bars, then took a deep breath. He then said four words that caught Shark, and most likely Dennis, completely off guard:
"I want your son." Shark's eyes widened when he heard the words. Judging from the silence, his father didn't seem to expect him to say it, either.
"Come again?" Dennis finally said after clearing his throat. Sinbad simply leaned more onto the cell door, a slight smirk on his face.
"You heard me. I said I want your son. I don't mean as in some kind of slave deal. I figure, since you're obviously not going to be around much longer, maybe I could take him off your hands for ya."
"I...Er, well...I suppose if that's what you want, then...I can't stop you." Sinbad nodded, then walked off to the side. He put a hand on Shark's back, gently pushing him towards the cell.
Shark looked down at his father's feet, then over at Sinbad, when he was right in front of him. Sinbad shook his head and raised both his hands, indicating he wasn't going to be further involved.
"So," Dennis said snidely, drawing out the word, "Our little father-son bonding time on your birthday snagged you a suitor, eh?" Shark didn't respond.
"I don't see why Mister Rotter would want what he asked for otherwise. Funny, he could have asked for riches or power, and instead he asks for your hand in marriage! Never thought I'd see the day. Well, it is my last, so..." Still no response. Shark felt his father reach through the bars and poke his head, forcing him to look up. Feeling his mental barriers breaking down, Shark finally spoke in a surprisingly firm voice.
"I practically worshipped you, Dad," he began, his face expressionless. "Even when you practically ignored me when I was little, I still looked up to you. Nearly every day, I would tell myself that I'd take over and make you proud."
"But not now. Not after what happened. You...you took away my childhood, then you took away nearly everything else." Shark gripped his forearm, in some effort to gain composure. "You're such a coward, you couldn't even do the job by yourself. You had to have someone else do it with you." The boy looked away again, then looked right into his father's eyes.
"You know what? When you get executed, I hope you end up burning in Hell. I hope you end up in the same place that Mom, Grandpa, and Bill wound up. And when the time comes, I hope Grandma and Lolly follow. Uncle Dudley's my only blood relative left. As for you and everyone else, well, I won't even remember your names."
Satisfied with the release of vitriol, Shark turned to go. He didn't even stay to hear what his father had to say in response. He went back the way he came, with Sinbad close behind.
It wasn't until both of them were out of the station, that Shark's facade finally broke. He shoved his face into Sinbad's chest, letting his tears finally come forth. Almost as if expecting him to do it, Sinbad wrapped his arms around him and let him cry.
Shark felt his back being rubbed, followed by Sinbad lifting his head up and wiping his tears away.
"You done?" Shark nodded. Sinbad took his hand, and led him back towards the truck.
- 9
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- 11
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Happy Birthday?