Changing Tides

by K A Sands

  Jumping to my feet, his words rubbed at me the wrong way. “Get the fuck over it? She’s twenty-one, you prick, with more dreams than I know what to do with, dreams she has a shot at. How does getting pregnant help her achieve those?”

  “It sets her back is all.”

  Maybe I was afraid she was her mother all over and that frightened the shit out of me, there was no one to step up to the plate if Sophie walked away. I knew I had to give her more credit than I was, but the fear was inherent. Everyone had failed her, I had failed her at the most basic level despite trying my best. Perhaps telling Ayden, Sophie wasn’t to come home, had been a bad idea. This was what I did though, made spur of the moment decisions and fucked everything up. I could never get it right, someone always suffered.

  “What’s your friend’s problem?” Ah, he’d seen it too.

  “He has a soft spot for my sister. A crush maybe. They’ve known each other a long time.”

  “He gonna be a problem for them?” He slung his thumb toward the door.

  “I’ll make sure he isn’t. Your mate better be on the up and up, Ayden. I don’t play around. Any harm comes to my sister or he treats her wrong, in the slightest, he’ll be the sorriest motherfucker breathing when I’m finished with him.”

  “Jake will step up.” He sat picking at his fingers when he said it, seemingly uninterested in any further conversation. But I wasn’t finished with him, not by a long shot.

  “You didn’t answer my texts.”

  Ayden snorted. “If you were looking for a dick pic back, you’ve got the wrong guy.”

  “You didn’t like it?” My smirk was a mile-wide reminiscing about the serious wank I’d given myself that night and the filthy thoughts running through my mind after I’d sent that little bit of pornography his way.

  “It’s not my style.”

  “And what is your style? ‘Cos you suck dick like a pro, never had better. You’re more than worth making a sacrifice for.”

  His laugh was short, unamusing. “Yeah, not gonna happen. Look, it’s time you left. You saw your sister, she’s fine.”

  Standing up he adjusted himself, the impression his semi hard dick made against his trousers, hard to miss. I flicked my tongue stud, contemplating. The attraction was there, he’d proven it on his end and I was wanting more. I wanted it fucking all if I was being honest. I’d never had anything so delicious in all my life. Me and him were a bad, bad idea. I wasn’t stupid, knew it would never work, but I wanted it all the same. I crossed the room, getting in his space, realising I had to come at him from a different angle.

  He cocked his head to the side. “You a man who doesn’t take no for an answer?”

  “I don’t think you want to say no.” Extending my hand out, I ran a finger down his throat as he gulped, the rasp of his stubble seemingly loud among our mingled breaths. “Return my texts.” I lurched away from him, my composure splintering, the urge to suck his bottom lip between my teeth too tempting. It would do neither of us any good for now.

  “Please, answer my texts.”

  Ayden

  Gripp: Hey, how r u?

  Me: Fine

  Gripp: You wanna meet?

  Me: No

  Gripp: I’m out front waiting for Sophie. Come say hi?

  Me: I’m at Uni

  Gripp: Thinking of me?

  Me: Yes

  Really? I couldn’t lie to that one because I was so wound up over him, he was all I could think of.

  Gripp: U can’t ignore me foreva

  Me: I can

  Gripp: Fancy a drink?

  Me: I’m sleeping

  Gripp: Coffee?

  Me: No

  Gripp: I’m out clubbing. Wanna meet?

  Me: Have Uni in the morning

  Gripp: Got a new tat. Wanna see

  Me: U have skin left to ink?

  Gripp: U gonna answer anytime soon?

  Me: I am now

  Gripp: You ashamed?

  Me: No

  His accusation in front of everyone had pissed me off. I had zero hesitation answering.

  Gripp: My sister looks good

  Me: I make her eat

  Gripp: U wanna fuck? I’m so fucking horny thinking about ur tight arse

  Me: I’m horny thinking about shoving my dick down your throat

  Me: ‘Attachment’

  Yeah, I sent him a dick pic. No point pretending anymore. I wanted another go around. I wanted the bad boy.

  * * *

  “So, you and my brother, huh?” I didn’t know where to put myself when Sophie collared me in the kitchen later and asked me what I had anticipated was coming. “Look. I’m not mad, okay. I know he’s gay. Why he stays in the closet. He’s not a bad guy, he’s just in a situation that’s not easy to get out of. He has an image to keep, and liking men is not part of it.”

  “I get that. It was a one-time thing. Nothing to it, just a heated moment,” I lied. Because I was lying to both her and myself.

  “He didn’t like Jake kissing you.”

  “No, I guess he didn’t” Wasn’t that the truth?

  “You gonna see him again?”

  “I dunno, Sophie.” I wanted to and once I’d admitted it, the idea of me and Gripp didn’t look so awful. Maybe it was just what I needed; the hot curl of sexual attraction between us, getting off for a bit with one another. I was cool with it. I was young, he was someone I could get over. I wasn’t so deep in I couldn’t walk away unscathed once we’d had some fun.

  “You should,” she winked, looking silly in the attempt.

  “It wouldn’t bother you?” I had to ask. In the back of my head, her opinion mattered far more than a bit of sex. Even damned good sex.

  “Nah. I think you would probably do him the world of good.”

  I didn’t see it. We ran in very different circles, his wasn’t one I was interested in at all, nor to be a part of. Shaun and I would never work based on social differences alone. “He’s been asking to meet. I’ve been ignoring his texts until today.”

  “Oh, he messages you?” Her eyebrows went up a fraction. “You don’t answer? That’s pretty rude.”

  “I answered them all this afternoon.”

  “Why now?”

  “Because he asked. Said please, too. I couldn’t resist that fucking word.”

  She laughed loud, her eyes not as red as earlier. “Ha, ha. I totally get that!”

  “You talk to Jake?”

  Sophie sighed. “Yeah. He’s okay but this is a lot for either of us to take in. I’m surprised my brother stayed so calm. Maybe you being there stopped him in his tracks?”

  I didn’t answer and changed the subject yet again. “I shouldn’t have punched Jake.”

  “No, you shouldn’t have. It’s not any one person’s fault. You need to apologise.”

  “I will.” He’d hold no bad blood, but my actions still weren’t sitting right. My own conduct had stunned me, I had never been trigger happy in that sense. “We have to sit down and make some plans, Sophie.”

  “Yeah, I know. Just not right now. I need to get my head around this pregnancy first.”

  Totally reasonable. “Come here,” I beckoned her over. She came into my arms and held on when I wrapped her in a tight hug. “Things will work out. I promise. It won’t be so bad, you’ll see.”

  Shaun

  I hated selling drugs. Hated doing Charlie’s dirty work. I’d managed to get myself in such a position I could hand off deals to runners. It wasn’t often I did the grunt work and sold to punters. Tonight, I was meeting an old customer, a regular client I’d dealt with for years, and I felt safe enough I wouldn’t end up in handcuffs.

  Handing over a fat baggy of coke to Malc, the guy who was standing less than a foot away from me in a dingy alleyway behind a Chinese takeaway. I fought off the gag, the mingled smells of piss, trash and food made my stomach roll.

  “This ain’t that shit the kid od’d on yesterday, is it?”

  “What kid?”

>   I’d been in my flat since getting back from Ayden’s, hadn’t spoken to anyone, trying to figure out my goddamned life. How I could get Sophie and me out of the shit I was currently standing in knee-deep and sinking.

  “He bought some gear off Shorty last weekend. Maybe took too much, I dunno. Found the guy cold in his mum’s shed yesterday. Od’d, man.”

  My phone had been silent, apart from the copious replies from Ayden. All the replies. It had been my turn to ignore, too many what if’s and disaster scenarios trundling through my head. I wasn’t ready for another rejection.

  “My shit ain’t tainted, Malc. How long you been coming to me?”

  “Yeah, but Shorty’s one of your guys.” He argued a valid point.

  “Then he stepped on the coke himself. I don’t do that. You’ve never had bad gear from me.”

  “True. So, I’m just gonna get high and not dead when I stick it up my nose?” he laughed, pocketing the baggy without looking at it, showing his trust.

  “Just high. Maybe look at stopping that shit, huh?”

  “What you saying, man?” He eyed me with scepticism.

  “Nothing. Just...” I paused and looked around warily. “You been taking that crap a long time. Years and a lot of it. Maybe time to get off it?”

  He huffed at me. “Listen, I know you don’t use but don’t judge me about my habits, all right? I hold down a decent job, keep a girl and fucking mind my own business. I like getting high. My bird likes it too. So, if it’s all the same to you, Gripp, mind your own.”

  “I hear you. Sorry, dude.” I held my hands in the air. “Just watch who you’re buying off then. I know you get elsewhere sometimes. I’ll track that little prick down and have a word. Find out what the score is.”

  He slapped me on the shoulder. “I’ll see you around, mate.”

  “Yeah, sure.”

  Pulling out my phone when Malc disappeared around the end of the alleyway, I peered down at the lit-up screen when I turned it on. A fleeting panic came over me when I realised I hadn’t heard from Boomer this last day. He’d been silent in the car when we’d left Sophie’s, hadn’t even said bye when he’d got out. His way of dealing with situations he didn’t like was to get shit faced on copious amounts of blow and sink himself into some skanky pussy.

  Shorty could wait, Boomer was getting a visit.

  The brisk walk to his flat took twenty minutes, I didn’t bother calling, and had the key to his flat, so I could just let myself in. I didn’t give a fuck what I walked in on. Anything was possible. When I eventually unlocked his door and shoved through into his living room, I got an eyeful of double d tits and Boomer nailing a pretty club bunny I recognised, over the arm of his scuffed-up recliner. I should have called.

  I plonked onto the couch. “Don’t mind me,” I mumbled as I sank my head back into the rough material and closed my eyes. The room was too quiet. Boomer fucking the chick was too quiet. She wasn’t moaning or over dramatically screaming like she usually did, and he wasn’t making a sound either. I opened my eyes to be met with Boomer throttling her, his hands tight around her throat, her mouth wide and her eyes begging.

  “Hey, man. What the fuck are you doing?”

  Boomer kept going, ignoring me, like he hadn’t even realised I’d come into the room. He let out a harsh grunt and grabbed the woman’s hair far too roughly for my liking. Jumping up, I pushed at him and as he fell to the side I watched with disgusted fascination as his cock leaked strings of cum when he fell on his back laughing, his hands grabbing for his balls.

  The bunny slumped forward, gasping for air. “Fuck...” she groaned, “thanks, Gripp.” I threw the towel over her that had been draped over the back of the recliner then kicked Boomer’s leg.

  “Get the fuck up, idiot.”

  Searching around the tip of a room I found his not so secret drug stash laying on his table, the baggy almost empty. I scooped it up anyway, pocketing it. Grabbing a damp cloth from the kitchen, I wiped up the residue and kicked Boomer again when I walked past.

  His kitchen was a fucking pig sty and I felt sick just looking at it. I braced myself against the counter and dropped my head to my chin. What kind of friend was I? That I let my closest mate slowly kill himself with drugs and poor decisions, let him live in a place that was a health hazard. Something had to give. Our lives were unravelling at an alarming rate, surely there was better out there for the likes of us.

  Time to get out, Shaun.

  Filling his kettle with water, I hunted around for some mugs that resembled clean, ignoring the full sink of dishes and the shit that had been left for days. Boomer wasn’t staying here any longer than he had to, this was no way to live.

  Dragging my arse back into his tiny living room with two mugs of scalding hot coffee, I was thankful the strip bunny had the semblance to dress. Looking more than worse for wear, she picked up a sparkly purse from the windowsill and left without another word. Boomer still lay on the floor, his flaccid cock looking red and sore. No condom by the looks of it either. The guy was playing with goddamned fire. What was with these stupid fucking arseholes?

  I banged the cups on the table then moved to Boomer, leaning down over him. “Get up, fucker.” He groaned, making no attempt to shift. “If I have to move you, trust me - you’ll have bruises, dick head. Get the fuck up!”

  Hunting around the room, I found semi clean sweatpants in the corner. Picking them up, I threw them at him, watching his lame effort to sit up. “This fucking stops, dude,” I growled. “No more.”

  Ten minutes later, Boomer was propped against his chair, half dressed and sipping the now tepid coffee. He wouldn’t hold eye contact when I looked at him.

  “Shorty stepped on his gear with something. A kid died. You know that?” He shook his head, sipping more coffee. “You stepping on yours?”

  “Nah, man.”

  “Of course not. You’re shoving it up your nose instead of punting it out. Hardly anything left to sell.” He snorted at me, and as if to prove a point, a drop of blood dripped from his nose, dribbling across his top lip. I looked away in disgust, a trace of fear tickling at me. This fucker was gonna die if he wasn’t careful. “It’s time to get out, Boomer.”

  His laugh was loud and caustic, and I wanted to do the same, because it really did sound ridiculous, but I wasn’t finding it funny anymore. “And do what, Gripp?”

  I had no answer to his question, not right then anyway, but something was brewing. I was determined not to live this way any longer than I needed to.

  “I think I got a plan...”

  * * *

  When a guy held a gun to your head, you had to be certifiably crazy to go back to the scene of the crime. That’s exactly what I was doing. Nobody ever said my balls weren’t big enough.

  The bouncers hadn’t been gentle with their pat down searches when we entered the door to the club, noticing we were the only ones asked to turn out our pockets. I’d told Boomer he had to be clean when we got there, needed him sharp. Seemed he’d listened, didn’t even look high. The likelihood of a bullet in the head was slim but didn’t mean I’d be walking out unscathed. This club owner meant business, hopefully he’d afford me some time and hear me out. If he didn’t, I had no clue where to go next. My choices were non-existent, the owner I’d pinned my hopes on, the only thin thread I could think of.

  “One beer, that’s it, dude.” I eyed Boomer, who nodded in agreement. I hadn’t filled him in because honestly, I didn’t have a solid plan, only a glimmer of hope that maybe this owner guy would offer some answers, some optimism.

  “Let’s fucking hope the guy’s here,” he mumbled, trying to hail the bartender. The club was hopping, busy as fuck, maybe a Friday night was the wrong time for a sit down?

  When the bartender finally appeared in front of us, I slouched across the bar and crooked a finger at him, urging him closer. “The boss in?”

  “Who’s asking?”

  “Gripp,” I said. His eyes widened, and he nodded his
head in recognition of my name. “See if he’s got a minute for me, yeah?”

  “Gimme a sec.”

  He moved to the back of the bar, eyeing me through the mirror as he picked up the phone on the wall. After a conversation that seemed to last an eternity the tender came back to me.

  “He’ll see you. Just you. The bouncers cleared you, yeah?” I tipped my head. “Okay.” He pointed down the dark hall away from the bar. “Last door.” He turned to Boomer, dismissing me. “What you having, mate?”

  Leaving them to it, I made the long walk toward my sink or swim, the only thread of hope I’d managed to come up with, praying I wouldn’t get another gun shoved in my face. Or a broken nose.

  The owner wasn’t sitting behind an obnoxious desk like Charlie always did. No, when I answered the quiet ‘come in,’ he was sitting on a comfy chair off to the side of the office space. He stood when I entered and held out his hand. Funny I hadn’t noticed he had just as many tattoos as I did the first time I’d met him.

  “Better circumstances, I hope.”

  Shaking his offered hand, I relaxed with the courtesy he extended. I was a rough son of a bitch, didn’t mean I wasn’t appreciative of manners. “Maybe.”

  He pointed toward the empty chair, “Take a seat, Gripp. Then you can tell me why you’re here.” His smile was easy, looked less threatening than previously. As relaxed as I felt, the nerves still pulled at me, this guy had every right to throw me out on my ear and make my life hell. “My name’s Ryder, by the way. If you prefer formalities, then it’s Mr. Laurent. Something tells me that’s not your style though.”

  “My sister’s pregnant,” I blurted out.

  Surprise registered on his face. “Ah, okay. Well, I’m a happily married man. If your sister got knocked up, trust me, you’re barking up the wrong tree,” he laughed. “I’d have no balls left if I so much as looked at another woman, never mind fucked one.”

  “Yeah, no. I’m not saying that.”

  “Then what, Shaun? Can I call you Shaun? Gripp seems so...” he didn’t finish his sentence, didn’t need to.