by Bea Paige
He's smiling like he’s just made the funniest joke, but the threat is serious enough. I recognise a psychopath when I see one. My older brother was a good teacher.
“What’s your name?” I ask, as I follow him down the hallway and back into the main section of the club. The music is pumping, and I catch a glimpse of Clancy kissing the guy she was grinding against when I left her. The temperature of the club has ramped up with all the bodies and the dancing, and my skin breaks out in a sheen of sweat, though not just because of the heat.
“You know how this works. We’ve never met. Inside,” he demands, not bothering to hide the threatening gaze he aims at Clancy. The bouncer standing in front of the entrance to the booth unclips the gold rope. I slide inside, blinking my eyes as they adjust to the low lighting and come face to face with the leader of the Skins.
“Hello, pretty, it’s been a while,” Jeb smirks, his perfect teeth glinting in the candlelight. Around his neck are four layers of thick gold chains that are probably worth twenty thousand pounds each. He’s every part the gangster with his expensive clothes and his tattooed fingers wrapped in gold rings. I look up from his finger tapping against the side of the crystal tumbler glass he’s holding, and to his face. Beneath each eye are three teardrops tattooed into his dark Mediterranean skin. There’s only the slightest resemblance to Zayn, which I’m grateful for. I hate that they’re related.
“Jeb,” I respond tightly, my skin crawling the second his lascivious eyes glide over every inch of me, despite whoever is on their knees beneath the table sucking him off. The slurping noises make me want to gag.
“Looking good, sweetheart,” he exclaims appreciatively.
“What do you want, Jeb?” I ask, trying to keep my fear at bay and the alcohol in my stomach.
I’m treading on dangerous ground, I know that, but I can’t seem to help myself. This man and his stupid fucking crew of degenerates took my Breakers from me. Zayn always believed that Jeb would look out for him, that he’d never force him into becoming a member of the Skins, but I’d known right from the moment he told me they were related that it was only a matter of time. Blood or not, everyone is just a commodity to Jeb, only worth something if he can use them to his advantage. Just like me.
“Just checking in on my investments,” he says with a wry smile.
“Oh, yeah?”
“Yeah.” He smiles lazily, then shudders as the person beneath the table chokes a little on his cock. “That’s it, suck me good, motherfucker,” he grinds out.
I bite down on this inside of my cheek to prevent myself from saying something that will get me killed. Between us on the table is a pistol, pointing in my direction. I glance at it before forcing myself to hold his gaze. Jeb loves fear. He thrives off of it, but I refuse to show him mine. I’ve seen first-hand what he’s capable of when the mood takes him. The problem with Jeb is that he’d surely fire a bullet in your head for being weak just as quickly if you were to disrespect him. He likes attitude, just not too much of it. Over the last three years, I’ve learnt how to walk the tightrope where he’s concerned. Fortunately for me, I don’t see him often enough to have to put it to the test. The last time we crossed paths was about six months ago when he dropped into Rocks one night unexpectedly. We’d talked and he’d reminded me of the deal I made with him the night of my seventeenth birthday. Like I could ever forget. That deal is a ball and chain wrapped tightly around my neck. One I’ll never be able to shake as long as both he and David are still breathing.
“I hear you lost a battle to Dax last week. Funny, I thought you were the most talented dancer of all the Breakers?” he asks, having great concentration for someone who’s getting his dick sucked-off beneath the table.
“No, that’d be Zayn and I’m not a Breaker,” I say carefully. Nerves jangle inside my chest, but I force it away, gritting my teeth.
“Of course, my nephew, the hip-hop genius… It’s a crying shame he doesn’t put as much effort into his work for me as he does with dance. I’ve had to remind him far too often where his bread’s buttered. He’s a stubborn bastard though, and tough as shit. Takes after me, I guess,” Jeb says, fondly. Though the smile he displays does not meet his eyes. Like my brother, family means nothing to him because he’s incapable of either empathy or love.
My skin prickles. “What do you mean, remind him?”
Jeb smiles maliciously. “They’re not your Breakers anymore, so why do you even give a fuck?”
“I don’t,” I mutter, even though I have a hard time believing myself.
The cruel laugh that follows inches like a spider crawling up my spine, scattering goosebumps over my skin. He doesn’t believe me either. “They left you behind, remember? Those boys really couldn't have given two shits about you if they believed the story you spun. What does it feel like, having them back? Bet that was a nice surprise?”
Gritting my teeth, I force my face into a blank slate. “I really don’t give a shit.”
His hand disappears beneath the table and for a minute I have to suffer the sound of his cock being deepthroated. Why won’t he come already?
“So, you like my club?”
“Your club?”
“Come on, girl. D-Neath might have his name on the deeds, but I own this place just like all the other businesses in the area.”
Of course he does, extortion is one of the long lists of crimes Jeb is involved in. I have no choice but to work for Jeb at Rocks, but socialising somewhere he actually hangs out is something I need to avoid at all costs. This is the first and last time I’ll be coming to the Pink Albatross.
“It’s been a while since we last talked,” he eventually says like I’m some long-lost friend and not a member of his staff that he pays to keep quiet or a girl he has trapped in a god awful situation. “Business is booming. I’ve been kept busy.”
“I’m glad for you,” I respond, sarcasm dripping from every word.
This dirtbag has laid claim to the remains of the HH crew after the King was murdered just over a year ago. Jeb has taken the King’s place in the criminal hierarchy given his only surviving heir, Monk, is in prison. Jeb was always an opportunist prick. Looks like he’s branching out. Rumour has it that Asia and a few guys from Oceanside Academy got away and are living their best life somewhere far, far away from here. Good. I’m glad someone got out of this shit-stain of a life we live. It gives me hope.
“Spoke to David recently, Penelope?” he asks, changing the subject and shattering that hope as surely as Jeb’s fist could break my face if he felt the urge to hit me. I wouldn’t put it past him. I flinch, both at the mention of my brother and the fact he uses my full name just like David always does because he knows how much I hate it.
“No.”
“Next time he calls, answer. I need his head in the game and not thinking about his pretty little sister… Ah, fuck!” he exclaims, his eyes snapping shut and his jaw going slack as he comes suddenly and violently. I’ve never been more grateful for someone’s orgasm as I am right now, another minute listening to the noises of Jeb getting a blowjob and I would’ve hurled. I keep my face blank as the girl who’s been on her knees beneath the table reveals herself. She’s boyish to look at despite her short, skin-tight dress. With a spiky blonde pixie cut, square jaw, flat chest and tattoos covering her arms she’s androgynous, hinting at Jeb’s preferred sexual tastes. Without warning, he grabs the girl by the back of her neck and slams her face against the table. I jump at the sudden brutality, but the girl doesn’t make a sound.
“A word of advice, if you’re lucky enough to suck my cock another time then make sure you pay attention to my balls as well as my dick. I pay you to get me off, not test my fucking patience. Got it?” He lets her go, and she wipes at her eye, swiping away at the tear I see glistening on her lashes. The poor girl didn’t stand a chance. It’s a miracle she got him off at all.
“I’m sorry,” she mutters.
“See yourself out, Charlie,” he says, not bothering to
hide the fact that he’s already bored of her company. She slides out of the booth, not meeting my eyes.
“As I was saying, speak to your brother. He’s volatile when he’s angry and I need him to keep his cool whilst he’s dealing with my business in Mexico.”
“Fine,” I say, hating that I’m taking orders from this prick again. Not that I ever really stopped. Once Jeb owns you, there’s no getting away from him.
Jeb shifts towards me, looking me up and down. “I understand that David’s not happy about the Breakers being back, but I really don’t give a shit. He’ll have to suck it the fuck up. I’m the leader of the Skins, not him, and they’re here on business for me. You might want to remind him of that fact, and do whatever you need to do to reassure him, so he doesn’t come back here and fuck up my plans.”
“Why don’t you tell him yourself?” I retort, more afraid of my brother’s response than Jeb’s. Jeb might kill me for my insolence with a gunshot between the eyes, but David will take great pleasure in killing me slowly. I try not to shiver at the thought.
With lightning speed, Jeb grabs my jaw and squeezes it tight, his fingernails biting into my skin, a reminder of who he is and what he’s capable of. “Because, I asked you. Don’t forget who I am, and who I own, Penelope.”
I nod my head, my throat constricting. “I haven’t forgotten.”
He nods, seemingly satisfied enough with my response to let me go. I don’t rub at the pain in my jaw. I refuse to give him the satisfaction that he hurt me.
“And another thing, don’t get too comfortable with the Breakers being back. Like I said, they’re here doing business for me and don’t need any distractions.”
“Business that involves Stardom Academy?” I question, knowing I’m taking a risk by asking, but doing it anyway.
“Business that has fuck all to do with you. Stay out of it, Penelope. Understand?”
“Yes,” I mutter, waiting for permission to leave, because you can’t just get up and go where Jeb is concerned. No one does anything without his say so. Not unless you want to end up as fish food somewhere in the English Channel.
“Hmm…” His gaze roves over me again and I have to suffer the sting of his interest. My skin prickles and my stomach churns. I swallow down the bile burning my throat as an evil smile carves across his face. “Such a beautiful girl, even without all that makeup you have on tonight. No wonder the Breakers lost their heads over you,” he muses.
Balling my hands beneath the table, I bite down on all the things I wish I could say. I’ve never felt beautiful thanks to my mum and brother, so being called beautiful by a man I despise makes my skin go cold. My gaze flicks to the glass tumbler. I imagine smashing it against the table and using a shard of broken glass to slash his throat. Then I remember the gun and my itching fingers still.
Jeb’s dark eyes flash with amusement like he knows exactly what I’m thinking. “That fire in your eyes is going to get you in serious trouble one of these days,” he muses, then picks up his mobile phone from the table when it pings with a message. Not looking up from his phone, he dismisses me. “You can go. Talk to your brother.”
Pausing at the entrance to the booth, I remember that I haven’t thanked him for the drinks he bought Clancy and I earlier, and even though it makes me sick to my stomach thanking him for anything, I do so anyway. “Thank you for the cocktails.”
He cocks his head to the side and smiles darkly. “You and I both know that I don’t buy anyone a drink unless I want something in return, and despite your beauty, you’re not really my style.”
“But who then…?” I mumble, smarting at the look he gives me.
“I don’t know nor care, you shouldn’t either if you know what’s good for you,” he says, lifting his eyes to meet mine. “Do you need reminding of what happens if you don’t follow the rules?
I swallow hard, understanding the threat well enough. “No. I don’t need reminding.”
“Good, and Penelope…”
“Yes?”
He reaches into his jacket, pulling out a wad of notes clipped together with a silver bar and chucks it across the table at me. There’s got to be at least a grand there. “Buy yourself a cocktail dress. Make sure it’s short and tight.”
“What for?” I murmur, my throat tightening as I pick up the money with trembling hands.
“Isn’t it obvious? I need you to look pretty. Be ready next Saturday night at eight and bring an overnight bag.” With that he dismisses me with a flick of his hand, just like the prostitute who was sucking his cock a few minutes ago.
20
By the time I’ve got a very inebriated Clancy into bed, it’s past three in the morning. My feet are killing me, so I decide to take a bath. Knocking back a glass of water and some painkillers both for my feet and the inevitable hangover I’m going to have when I wake up, I strip and lower myself into the water. Letting out a deep sigh, I close my eyes, refusing to think about what Jeb has in store for me next week or the inevitable conversation with my brother. Sometimes burying your head in the sand is the only way to get through life, but for now I’m going to allow the water to soothe my aching feet and my worries.
Half an hour passes as I decompress. By the time I haul myself out of the bath, my fingers and toes are wrinkled enough to rival an eighty-year-old’s skin. Drying myself off, I pull on my vest and shorts then grab my phone from the vanity. It vibrates in my hand, and when I look down at the screen I can see it’s Lena.
“Lena, is everything alright?” I ask, snatching up the phone and already thinking the worst.
“Hey, Pen! How’s school?”
“Lena, it’s three in the morning, why aren’t you asleep?” I hear giggling in the background and Lena shushing someone.
“Mum let me have a sleepover. Laura and Simone are here.”
“Jesus, Lena, has no one told you that calling someone at this time in the morning is usually saved for emergencies only. I about had a heart attack,” I laugh, shaking my head.
“Sorry, but I just had to call you. We’ve just watched 28 Days Later. That film is fucked up!” she exclaims, a nervous laugh lifting in the air. I recognise that laugh, it’s the one she reserves for when she’s really scared but is trying to pretend she isn’t.
“Lena, was that wise? The last time you watched a horror movie you spent the week sleeping in bed with me,” I remind her, flicking the call to loudspeaker and resting my phone on the vanity whilst I comb out my tangled hair.
“I was twelve then,” she responds, the bravado back in her voice. “I’m old enough now not to be a cry baby. Anyway, have you seen the movie? Those fuckers can run.”
“Yeah, I’ve seen the movie,” I smile, remembering the night Xeno made me sit down and watch it after York forced him to watch Swing Time, another black and white movie featuring his favourite dancer Fred Astaire. “Try watching it in a dark and dingy basement.”
“A dingy basement, why would I… Anyway,” she continues, not bothering to finish her sentence. “I swear, Pen, you won’t see me for dust if this shit were to go down.”
“You wouldn’t see anyone, we’d all be dead within the hour,” I say, darkly. I mean, come on, London and zombie apocalypse? No one would survive that shit.
“Oh, shut up, Pen. You’d just need to call your Breakers and they’d get us out of trouble no problem. They’d sling us on the back of their motorbikes and save the day.”
I scoff, brushing out the last of my tangles and plaiting my hair. “I don’t think so. That ship has long since sailed, or should I say those motorbikes burnt rubber a long time ago.”
“Oh, I dunno…” More giggles ensue, and I roll my eyes. “I reckon they’d do anything for you.”
Sighing, I shake my head even though she can’t see me. Lena always loved the boys and on the rare occasion we’d bump into them outside of the basement, she would go all silly and shy. I kept my relationship with them on the downlow, but sometimes we’d cross paths when I was walking Le
na to school and she would harass them with loads of questions. She especially liked their motorbikes, the ones they suddenly started riding around on about a few months before things went to hell.
“Is there a particular reason you called?” I ask her, trying to change the subject.
“I miss you, that’s all. How’s it all going anyway?”
“It’s going… great,” I eventually say, not wanting to bring up the subject of the Breakers. I’ll never hear the end of it. “I’ve met some nice people. There’s a girl called Clancy, she’s an amazing tap dancer…”
“Ah, that’s good, I’m glad you have a friend… Are you eating enough?” she asks me, her motherly vibes coming out. I grimace, I should be the one worrying about her, not the other way around.
“Yeah, I’m good,” I lie.
“Pen…” she warns, knowing me well enough to recognise the change in pitch indicating I’m not telling her everything. I sigh heavily.
“It’s fine. I’ve got enough to get me by, and I’ll get my wages in a couple weeks. Stop stressing.”
“I could grab some shit from the cupboards and bring it to you. Mum won’t notice. I do most of the cooking anyway.”
“No, Lena. Seriously, it’s cool. We’ve got a canteen here and I get lunch free anyway.” Another lie, but this time she doesn’t seem to notice, thankfully.
“Well, that’s alright then…”
“Everything alright at home with mum?” I ask, feeling anxious at the thought.
“Yeah. It’s cool actually. She’s chilled out so much since…”
“Since I left?”
“I’m sorry, Pen. I didn’t think.”
“It’s okay. I’m okay. I’m glad it’s better at home now.”
“Sooooo, any hotties there you want to tell me about? I mean all those sexy dancers and all,” she asks, changing the subject. I hear her friends giggling in the background. Teenagers. You’ve got to love them.