SMOKESCREEN
(A Broken Lives Short Story)
Marita A. Hansen
Copyright
Smokescreen
(A Broken Lives Short Story)
Kindle Edition
Copyright 2018 © Marita A. Hansen
Editor: John Hudspith
Cover design © Marita A. Hansen
Cover photography by LMoonlight
and sourced from https://pixabay.com
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means whatsoever without the written permission of the author, nor circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author. For subsidiary rights inquiries email: [email protected]
All characters, names, places, and incidents in this book are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual events, locales, or real persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
CONTENTS
Copyright Page
Dante’s Short Story
About the Author
More Books by Marita A. Hansen
UK English is used due to the New Zealand setting.
All other variations are also due to where the short story is set, as well as the characters’ cultural and socio-economic backgrounds. This is why some characters use different speech patterns from others.
This short story directly runs on from Facing the Music (A Broken Lives Short Story #1).
DANTE
“What the fuck?” I gasped, not believing my eyes.
I planted my foot on the brake, bringing my car to a grinding halt several houses down the road from where I lived. The street was packed with cars, and most of all, with people streaming onto my property. My front lawn was covered with reporters like flies on shit, their combined voices so loud it was audible from my car. Then it hit me...
They were here because of the viral footage of what they thought was L blowing me.
Except it wasn’t me, it was my brother.
I swore, pissed off with myself for not having expected this. I’d had reporters at my door before, even fans making me consider moving out, but nothing even remotely close to this clusterfuck. This was New Zealand, not Australia or America. Rugby stars were the gods of our nation, not a new rock star who’d only just had his first overseas concert. It may have been a sold out one and in a massive venue at that, but fuck me, I still didn’t expect to have reporters doing what the paparazzi had done to Britney Spears. Yeah, my manager had warned me that the paparazzi could stalk me and that reporters weren’t above going through my rubbish, yet it didn’t diminish the scene playing out before my eyes.
Knowing I couldn’t sit here all day, gaping at the fuckers like Jade gagging for cock, I slowly moved forward, wishing I could plant my foot on the accelerator, ploughing them down for invading my private life.
Then it hit me.
Clara was home with Tyson.
A stream of curse words exploded from my mouth, hoping like fuck they hadn’t upset her. As I drew closer, heads turned my way. It didn’t take long before all eyes were on me, the piranhas descending upon my blood-red Mustang. They shouted out my name, getting their grubby mitts all over my car’s shiny paintwork, amping up my anger even more.
“Move!” I hollered, trying to get into my driveway, the parasites blocking it. Of all the times for me to hand over my bodyguard to L, I did it today? Though, I wouldn’t be surprised if there was also a fuck-ton of reporters hanging around outside her apartment. That wouldn’t go down so well with L, especially with her being such a timid little mouse. She was more likely to turn and flee than attempt to run a gauntlet of reporters. Actually, giving her my bodyguard probably wasn’t such a bad thing after all, since Little Red Riding Hood needed protection from the big bad wolves way more than I did.
I blasted my horn, yelling louder, “Move it, you motherfuckers!”
They eventually did, allowing me to inch forward at a snail’s pace, basically escorting me into my own driveway. I finally came to a stop next to my dad’s new metallic-orange ute—a utility vehicle, something he’d always wanted. He’d bought it a couple of weeks back with his whoring money, which meant he was here to do a job for my manager. He was probably in Jade’s bed right now, waiting for him to get home, ready to make Jade scream the bloody house down. I’d told him to back off from my manager, to stop emptying Jade’s bank account, but would he listen? No! He only did what he wanted and everyone else be damned.
I pulled on my brake and went to get out, even finding that a task, the microphone-wielding reporters blocking my way. There were also camera crews surrounding them, the situation surreal.
I pushed the door open hard, forcing them to back up or get hit, then stepped out, not even getting my door shut before microphones were shoved in my face. Questions started being fired off at a hundred miles per hour, all of their voices doing my head in. I brought my fingers to my mouth and let rip with a massive whistle that would’ve split every dog’s eardrum in the neighbourhood. The reporters went silent, finally letting me speak.
“I assume you’re ’ere ’bout the sex video of L—”
“And you!” the reporter smack bang in front of me said excitedly. He was a young gun, wide-eyed and barely out of nappies, probably ecstatic to have his first real job. “How long has your affair with L been going on?” he asked, looking like he was creaming himself over having asked the first question.
“There is no affair,” I replied, about to clarify why, but a blonde I recognised from TV cut me off.
“Have you broken up with Clara Hughes? Is that why you’re with L now?”
“For fuck’s sake, I’m not with L—”
“But the video and photos.”
“Will ya lemme finish what I hafta say?!” Getting a nod, I continued, “I’m not the person in the video with L, it’s my brother.”
Chatter started up, some of the reporters sounding like they didn’t believe me, while others yelled out questions over the top of each other.
I brought my fingers to my mouth and did another ear-splitting whistle. “Shut the fuck up, you morons! It’s not me! I have different tattoos to who you saw.” I licked my finger and wiped at the dark green, almost black moko—the Māori tattoo surrounding my left eye. “See! It ain’t fake, all of my tattoos are real. You saw my older brother, who has tattoos on his neck and left arm. He’s best mates with L, so you fuckers can all bugger off.”
The chatter continued, then more microphones were thrust in my face, the guy in front of me asking another question, “How long has this relationship between your brother and L been going on?”
“Look, dude, he’s a private person, not someone in the public eye, which means that you have no right to ask questions ’bout him.”
“Well, with the video going viral he’s very much in the public eye now. His life won’t ever be the same again. What do you think about that?”
“What do I think? You’re all fuckin’ leeches, that’s what I think. Just fuck off back to your desks. Go interview your keyboards like you normally do, cos some of the bullshit I’ve read ’bout me and L is worse than fanfic. I’m with Clara, she’s my woman, and I’m not interested in anyone else. So leave me be, I don’t owe you fuckers anything.”
I shoved through them, the questions still being fired my way. I kept my mouth zipped, more concerned with getting to my woman. I hoped like hell she wasn’t upset over the clusterfuck that my brother and L had created. Typical, other people caused shit
and I got lumped with it. I had enough of my own shit to deal with without having to deal with theirs too.
Once I was on my front doorstep, I turned to face the reporters, all of them still yelling out questions as if I hadn’t already answered them. Though, I noticed the young reporter who’d been in my face was leaving. At least he wasn’t a dumb cunt like the rest of them.
I lifted my hands to the rest and flicked my middle fingers at them, hoping they put that on the front page or primetime news. “Wankers!” I yelled, before turning to my door. It opened before I could get a hand to it, Clara’s beautiful but strained face appearing on the other side.
“Inside quick,” she said, moving out of the way.
I slipped through, slamming the door shut when someone tried to get a microphone inside, the person yelling out, “Clara, what do think about this?” I planted my back against the door, letting out a massive sigh.
Clara stared at me with wide gunmetal eyes, looking as bewildered as I felt. Then she started hitting my chest, yelling, “Why did you do it!”
I swore, realising she believed the bullshit the bastards must’ve told her. I grabbed her wrists to stop her from hitting me more, barking, “It’s not me!”
“They said you slept with L, that they have video proof,” she cried, trying to jerk free from my hold.
“It’s not me! It’s Ash.”
She went still, her breathing heavy. “Ash?”
“Yes, they mistook him for me. I would never cheat on you, Clara, I love you.”
She blinked, looking unsure yet desperate to believe me.
“You know L isn’t interested in me,” I added. “You know she’s in love with Ash. She wouldn’t even consider goin’ with me.”
Clara’s cheeks went red, a sure-fire sign that she realised she’d fucked up. “Then why did they think it was you in the video? You have different tattoos from Ash. How could they mistake that?”
“Have you seen the photos or video?”
She shook her head, her long lilac hair brushing against my arms. “They only just told me what happened. I was firing up the computer to look when you arrived. Though, I still don’t understand how they could mistake you for Ash.”
“They don’t believe my tattoos are real. This dancer at the video shoot told me everyone thinks I paint them on for show.”
“Then let go of me, I’ll go check out the post.”
Scowling, I kept my grip on her wrists. “So you think I’m lying to you?”
“It’s not that, I just want—”
I glared at her. “Isn’t my word enough proof?”
She didn’t reply, staring back at me like a deer caught in headlights, clearly not knowing what to say.
“You think there’s a chance it wuz me? That I’m lying?”
“I... I didn’t think—”
“Obviously you’re not thinking at all!” I snapped, now angry with her. “You don’t trust me, do you?”
“It’s not that—”
“What is it, then?!”
“It’s just women throw themselves at you all the time and,” she grimaced, “even your dad thinks you’ll stray. He made a bet with Jade at how long you’ll last before you give in.”
I swore. “The bastards!”
“Don’t blame Jade, he didn’t think you’d cheat. It was your dad who started it. He said he gave you a month before you’d be going behind my back, and...” She dropped her gaze. “You haven’t been home much of late, constantly going to the studio whenever L calls.”
“So, you think I’m cheating?”
She looked back up. “What do you expect me to think? You’re always with L.”
“Cos I work with her!”
She squeezed her eyes shut. “I’m sorry, just L is so beautiful.”
“Not on your level, she doesn’t even come close.”
She kept her eyes shut. “You’re just saying that.”
I swore, realising what was happening. It was the same thing that had happened between Tiana and my brother.
L.
I just didn’t realise Clara felt insecure about me working with L. I’d assumed she knew I had no interest in my guitarist and vice versa. All L was interested in was Ash, the chick not willing to compromise. If anything, I was pretty certain she’d choose to remain single for the rest of her life if she couldn’t get him.
Even though I was still pretty pissed off with Clara for thinking I’d cheated on her, I let go of her wrists and wrapped my arms around her, pulling her to my chest. “It’s all right,” I said, not willing to allow our relationship to go the same way as my brother’s had gone. Ash had split with Tiana, furious that she’d accused him of cheating with L. They’d been arguing over L for some months now, Tiana not liking that Ash’s best friend was a surreal-looking elfin chick that made men come with one look. And for the first time I was on Tiana’s side. Ash had gotten L’s mouth wrapped around his dick far too fast for him to not have wanted her. Although he hadn’t technically cheated on Tiana, it still didn’t look good, my bro having a lot of explaining to do with the mother of his child.
“I love you, Clara,” I said, “not some anime chick who follows my bro around like a lapdog. And not to forget that L doesn’t like me. You’ve seen her lose her nut at me. Every day I go into work, I expect to be told she’s quit cos I’m too hard to work with.”
Clara pulled back, tears clouding her eyes. “I’m just...” her bottom lip trembled, “so scared of losing you again,” she said, the years we’d spent apart not our doing. I’d lost my memory of being with her due to a car crash, only getting some of it back recently. I was also working with a psychologist in an attempt to retrieve more, just hadn’t had much success of late.
“You’re my life,” she said.
I smiled down at her. “You’re my life too,” I replied, wishing I could remember every single moment with her. “No one can compete with you.”
“I don’t understand why you think that.”
“And I don’t understand how you can’t think it.” I brushed her lilac hair back, slipping it behind her ear. “I didn’t go through hell to give up the one good thing in my life. Actually, there’s another good thing in my life and you gave me him. My baby boy. There’s no way I’d leave you and Tyson for some chick I’d rather give a wedgie to than get a blowjob from.”
She snorted out a laugh. “A wedgie?”
I shrugged. “It wuz the first thing that came to mind, and her knickers pro’bly wouldn’t go up her anal-retentive arse since she’ll have a shitload of cobwebs down there.”
Clara snorted again, though her amusement was short-lived. “I’m so sorry, Dante,” she said, wiping her eyes. “I should’ve trusted you. Please forgive me.”
“So, you believe me totally?”
She nodded. “I don’t need to see the pictures or video to know.”
I grimaced. “You wouldn’t want to either. L is sucking on Ash’s cock like she’s never eaten sausage before.”
Her eyes widened. “I didn’t want to hear that!”
“Well, you would’ve saw it if you opened up those pictures. A dancer showed me, trying to prove it wuz me. I can’t believe how dumb people are.”
A whistle not that dissimilar to mine came from upstairs. “Fuckin’ hell!” a voice followed, belonging to my dear ol’ dad.
“What the fuck is happening now?” I said, taking the stairs two at a time, racing up them to get to my manager’s room—where my dad wasn’t supposed to be, the greedy bastard never listening to me.
I yanked the door open without knocking, finding my dad lounging on Jade’s bed in a pair of boxers and a computer in front of him. His muscular body was covered in tattoos, his face included. He had a full-faced moko, the curves and lines of the tribal design making him look like a Māori warrior instead of the whore he was.
His dark eyes snapped to me, no grimace for barging in. Instead, he jabbed at the computer screen. “I didn’t think Ash had it in him,”
he said. “And especially not that timid pixie chick.”
I stormed over and slammed the computer shut.
“Hey!” he yelled. “That’s my computer!”
“Yeah, paid for by Jade. I told you to stop fucking him.”
Dad pushed off the bed, his gaze moving past me. I glanced over my shoulder at Clara, who was waiting outside the door.
“It’s defo Ash, not Dante!” Dad called out to her. “Dunno how the dumb bastards could’ve mixed those two up with their different tats.” He swiped out, slapping the tattoo around my left eye.
I yelped and smacked his hand away. “What wuz that for?!”
“I’ve told you a hundred times not to barge into my bedroom.”
“It’s not your bedroom, you freeloading bastard. And I’ve told you to stop stringing Jade along. You promised you would.”
He sneered at me. “My promises mean jack shit when they’re forced onto me.”
“What ’bout Killer? Do your promises to him mean jack too? You do know you’re hurting him by goin’ behind his back.”
“I’m not goin’ behind his back, I’m upfront ’bout what I do and who I do. It’s not my fault he can’t accept I’m a whore,” Dad spat, now looking angry. “And that psycho has a damn nerve criticising what I do. He kills people for a living. At least I make people happy.”
“Bit hypocritical, don’t cha think? You’ve killed before.”
“To protect my loved ones and friends, not for money.”
“Which is why you shouldn’t be putting Jade’s life at risk. Killer could—”
“Do nuthin’,” he cut me off. “He may have the name, but he’s not the one who finishes the job. Murderer is, and I’ve made sure that cunt doesn’t come near Jade.”
“If it’s Murderer pulling the trigger, then why are you blaming Killer?”
“Cos Killer accepts the jobs. He passes ’em onto Murderer to complete, making him just as responsible. Those two have found a way to work together. I know, I read their diaries.”
“You shouldn’t be reading other people’s diaries.”
Smokescreen (A Broken Lives Short Story #2) Page 1