Changing Tides

by K A Sands

  “Boss needs his cut, says you’re late,” I reminded him.

  “Ah, yeah,” he rubbed at the back of his neck, a nervous tell if ever there was one. “I need to explain that...” Looking around the room, he licked at his lips when his gaze came back to mine.

  “Well, Russell, we got as much time as you need to explain, buddy.” I tried to go for the easy sounding conversation to settle him down, but Shorty was getting antsy behind me. I could hear his harsh breath resounding through the room and imagined he stood with hands fisted and a menacing glare on his face. I knew the bloke was going to pop soon, for whatever reason. Someone had rubbed him the wrong way, Charlie had probably given him a beat down for the dead kid, and he’d brought his temper to work with him.

  Russell cleared his throat. “I had to take on a new business partner, my profit was taking a hit and I needed and injection of cash.”

  “Okay, we could have done that, you know?”

  “No, no. I mean yes, I know, but it needed to be legal, Gripp. You know how I do my business and you guys are the only....” He didn’t need to finish his sentence; we all knew we were the only bit of illegal business he had going on. “My partner won’t pay the protection, says we don’t need it.”

  Shorty laughed behind me and I blinked rapidly sensing the meeting heading straight down the pan. I turned to glare at him before whipping back round to pin Russell with a scowl. Of course, they fucking needed it. My crew would have this place raised to the ground within an hour.

  “Bad decision, Russell,” I tutted. “I’m here to collect tonight, or you know what comes next.” I warned, a cold shiver climbing up my spine. We all knew it - the part I hated. Where things got rough, fists were slammed, guns drawn. This time felt off though, Shorty looming behind me giving me pause from shoving Russell to the floor and delivering a few hard pops to the mouth. Often it was all that was needed.

  “Well, looks like you got some medicine to take then, old boy.” Shorty growled, moving to the side of me. “Boss wants his money or your hide.”

  Sitting felt like a disadvantage with the round, the barrelled body of Shorty looming next to me, so I stood to my full height and flexed my arms out in front of me, cracking my knuckles. It was more of a show to Shorty than Russell, but I suspected the stupid fuck didn’t get the signal.

  Before I could move, he launched over the desk and grabbed Russell’s shirt collar, sticking his head into him as he drew forward. The resounding crack of Russell’s nose breaking echoed around the room. The room where four bouncers stood and three of my guys were - nobody moved. The blokes beside Russell just watched, a subtle tip of one’s head telling me all I needed to know. These guys didn’t work for the club, they worked for someone else.

  Shorty still had a hold of Russell, and I had to give the guy his due, he didn’t stop eyeballing the man who had a tight grip on him even with blood gushing down his face.

  “Enough, Shorty!” I barked out, taking a step forward.

  He didn’t let go, continued to glare at Russell. “He needs to pay up, otherwise...” not finishing his sentence nor acquiescing his hold, I yanked at the back of the prick’s coat.

  “Enough!”

  Looking around the room, I saw Boomer had grabbed one of the other boys and was holding him back from jumping into the fray, to spot Shorty’s back. The other was a few paces away from Boomer, a knife clutched tight in his hand.

  Fucking hell...

  Eventually letting go of Russell, Shorty climbed from the desk, pushing papers to the floor. A childish act if ever I’d seen one. “He needs to pay the fuck up or get fucked up. That’s what the Boss said.” His head swivelled around to me and his narrowed eyes looked manic. “What’s it to be, Gripp? You’re the man.” His apparent compliment was a sneer the whole room tuned into. It just wouldn’t do.

  “Out! Get the fuck out!” I faced Russell, who was now swiping a handkerchief across his face, smearing the thick clotted blood over his mouth. “You have one day, mate. Then I’m back.”

  Still nobody moved, including Shorty. I jumped at him and fisted the collar of his jacket, hauling him toward the office doors. “Move!” The two bouncers wisely shifted from their stance in front of the door, one opening it, the other looking at the floor.

  Pussies.

  I didn’t drag Shorty through the club, no, that would have been asking for trouble. Instead, I towed arse through the back entrance of the building and roughly shoved him against the brick wall before rounding on him. Gripping two handfuls of his hair, I slammed his head backwards, his skull connecting with the brick.

  “What the fuck are you doing?”

  He laughed in my face. “Moving your arse along, slow boy. Boss said you were going soft. He got that right, huh?”

  Punching the prick, my hand was so fast he didn’t see it coming, the sock to his jaw surprising him, making him yelp out in pain. His split lip gushed blood across the front of my white t-shirt and I groaned at the ruined garment of clothing. Letting go of Shorty, he doubled over laughing. This guy was a fucking idiot, there was nothing more to say about him.

  “You need to watch who you’re hitting, big man,” he warned.

  My temper flared, and all good sense fled, he’d pissed me off enough. Behind the back of Russell’s club, in front of two of his flunkies, I delivered a swift and painful message to Shorty. By the time Boomer managed to haul me off the bleeding mess of groans and whimpers, I didn’t give a fuck. The guy pushed and pushed and right then I was done.

  Shorty didn’t have the gumption to come at me on his own, but he would come. The beating I’d delivered guaranteed it. I added another thing to the ‘watch my back’ list and walked away, hoping it would be the last I would see of the poor excuse of a man left lying bleeding on the ground.

  With Boomer’s hand on my neck guiding me as I swayed down the road, my adrenaline crashing, he marched me into Monty’s, citing I needed to cool down and have a drink before we went back to the flat. Even though it was Charlie’s titty bar and Chrissie worked there, somehow the place always felt like a second home. I didn’t watch the women, they did nothing for me, therefore it was a safe place to get plastered. All the girls stayed away, they knew I didn’t come for their delights.

  Yeah, Monty’s was as good a place as any to unwind.

  Boomer slapped his hand on the bar and shouted for Chrissie. She was at the far end, her phone against her ear, talking frantically to whoever was on the other end. She shot up a hand in a ‘wait a minute’ motion then turned her back. I didn’t care about her hostility, if she served me drinks and didn’t cause a scene, it was all good.

  “You should go clean up.” Boomer nodded his head toward the back hall where the toilets were, and I grinned at him for the great idea. I must have looked a mess, I knew my hands were covered in blood, and I couldn’t sit there drinking looking the way I did so I got up gingerly from the stool and made my way back.

  Scrubbing the red from my hands I watched as it circled the grimy plug hole, my heart sinking, thoughts flying to Ayden. I looked up into the cracked mirror above the sink and sighed. He’d be so disappointed, livid really if he knew what I’d just done. Justified or not, Ayden didn’t condone violence. I shook my head and decided to put him from my head for the rest of the night. God knew he’d been all I could think of the past few days, and it was doing me no favours.

  By the time I’d straightened myself out and cleaned up, I ambled back to the bar, zipping up my jacket to hide the state of my t-shirt. Chrissie had been and gone judging by the tumbler of amber liquid perched on the bar in front of the seat I’d vacated ten minutes earlier.

  Sliding onto the stool, I asked Boomer what he was drinking. When he said it was lemonade, I straight up looked at him in astonishment. “Friday,” he muttered, then smiled at me.

  Friday indeed.

  Ayden

  The last few days had been easy, apart from the gaping hole I felt in my chest every time I thought of Shaun
. He’d left on the Sunday and I hadn’t heard a thing from him since. Neither had Sophie. My dad had assured me everything was okay, nothing had changed, and Shaun was just fine for the time being. It had to be enough, so I tried to relax. Jake and I did a lot of weight training in my dad’s gym and Sophie was often tucked up under Laura’s wing and dragged off here, there and who knew where. I didn’t see any signs of reluctance and she never voiced any, so I let her be.

  Jake was mooching in his room for whatever reason and Sophie was hogging more than half my bed whilst we watched a stupid chick flick. I had half an eye on it, and half an eye on a sports article I’d been trying to focus on for too many minutes to count. The television wasn’t the distraction, more the fact that it was Sophie lying on my bed and not someone else. I loved the woman, but she was not the bed partner I craved.

  I was missing Shaun.

  “You want some juice or something?” I asked, giving up on reading the same sentence for a fourth time. Swinging my body from the bed, I made my way to the door, my phone buzzing on my nightstand calling me back to retrieve it. Sophie’s was chiming from somewhere too.

  My hand was almost to the bedroom door when I opened the message app, curious as to what an unknown number had sent, giddy at the thought it might be Shaun from a different phone. The smile I’d had vanished, and my hand stilled when I observed the first picture, bile crawling up my throat as I studied the image.

  Huffing out loud, I threw my phone against the wall. It didn’t break which was a fucking miracle considering how hard I threw the bloody thing. I’d never met Shaun’s ‘Boss’ person before and I wasn’t entirely sure what game he was playing, but the fucker played it well. There was no mistaking who the pictures were from, his name was in bold along the top of each and every picture he’d sent.

  Stalking over to my phone I picked it up, not sparing Sophie even a glance. I scrolled through the other pictures ignoring the ache in my gut that made me want to throw up. My blood boiled hotter with each picture I scrolled past. There was one in particular that just stung so much more than the rest I could barely see it through blurred eyes.

  I sank down to the floor, my back sliding the length of the wall as I went. Fuck – it was there in technicolour and as much as I knew the reason behind the pictures were malicious, I couldn’t deny they had the desired effect. Couldn’t ignore what I was looking at. Dropping my phone between my bent knees, I scrubbed my hands down my face, breathing in deep and trying to stave off the tears. I didn’t even notice Sophie’s presence until she moved my arms out of the way and climbed into my lap.

  Holding on to her, probably squeezing too tight, she felt like my solid anchor when my entire world was drifting away.

  It was over. There was no coming back from this one. There were no excuses for what I was seeing. No pretending this didn’t hurt more than the knife being plunged into my back days ago when I found out about my mother. No – this hurt so much more.

  Shouting was coming from somewhere in the house, my dad bellowing so loud I could hear him with the door closed. He was furious, sounding like I felt. I didn’t hear anyone else arguing with him, and when his shouts settled down, I realised he must have been on the phone. As far as I knew only the five of us were in the house and he wouldn’t be yelling at Laura that way for any reason. Nor Jake for that matter.

  Sophie wrapped her slender arms as far around my waist as she could get them, her forehead resting against mine. Worry marred her tired face as she bit her bottom lip.

  “I’m okay,” I said softly, while she hung on a little tighter. She always seemed to know when I needed her touch.

  “I’m sorry.”

  “You saw?” I asked in disbelief. She nodded in confirmation and I thudded my head back against the wall groaning.

  “I got a text the same time you did.” If she got them too, then most likely others would have, they didn’t just come to me. “This is how they play, Ayden. Dirty and vile. I know what’s going on, I’m not stupid. Shaun is making a break for it. If I’ve figured it out, then you can bet your arse Charlie will have too. This is meant to put him in his place. Keep him tethered.”

  I could see what it was simply by who sent the foul images, still - they were nothing I could scrub from my head any time soon. Yes, you could forgive almost anything, but at what cost? My door barged open and my dad filled the space, his scowl telling me everything. Yip, it wasn’t just me then. He shook his head then stepped over to where I was slouched on the floor with Sophie, getting down on his haunches, he reached out to place a hand on my knee. His face softened as he took in my anguish.

  “They’re messing with your head, Ayden.” It didn’t make the pictures any less true nor any easier to see past. “They want Shaun to stay with them.” I didn’t say anything because I didn’t have a clue what was going on. Both Sophie and I had been kept relatively in the dark, kept out of everything for our own good. “They want him,” he continued, “and if you aren’t a factor in his decisions, they think he will stay willingly.”

  “Okay, well....” I managed. I was no longer a factor, not after this, that was for sure. “Does he know?” I didn’t need the answer; my dad’s bowed head telling enough. I picked up my phone and checked I had no missed calls or texts, surely if he knew then he’d be trying to call and explain or apologise or something. There was nothing there except the barrage of picture messages that made me feel like puking all over again.

  “He’s on his way.”

  “No!” I shouted. I didn’t need Shaun. I didn’t need to see the face of betrayal staring back at me while I ripped my own heart from my chest. It would hurt too much, while I laid myself bare in front of him, while he tried to assuage me with excuses that would never be justifiable. “How could he?” I choked out.

  “We don’t know what’s going on here.” My dad tried to reason, his words useless because the pictures told the story loud and goddamned fucking clear. Sophie said nothing, I wasn’t sure if she was as dumbfounded as I was, but she never loosened her arms from around me, just kept on hugging.

  “This is done.” I cleared my throat, steeled my voice. “I should have known better. Of course, his life would touch mine. I was naïve to think otherwise.” It was a shallow hit but a truth. I knew with certainty if it wasn’t this then it would have been something else further down the road. You don’t get to live Shaun’s life and be happy. Especially with another man.

  “He’ll be here soon. Go clean up and we’ll deal with it. Whatever you want son, I have your back.” He leaned over and kissed both our heads then moved away. I knew he had me but for the first time in my life, it didn’t make me feel any better. I nudged Sophie away from me and climbed to my feet.

  Confrontation was a thing becoming synonymous with Shaun and his lifestyle. I was walking away this time, before I didn’t have the legs to do so.

  Shaun

  My phone was ringing. I heard it somewhere, but it was too difficult to open my eyes and search for the thing. Jesus, how much had I drunk? I dragged my eyes open and looked down at myself, naked as the day I was born. Fuck, how did I even get home? I struggled to put the pieces together, all I had was a great big nothing. I squinted down across my aching body, and nausea swirled fierce in my gut. There was a faint waft of something sweet and sickly invading my nostrils, a smell I was all too familiar with. Rubbing my hand down my face, something soft caught on my stubble. It’s where the smell was coming from. I shoved my hand away from my face and watched with horror the red scarf attached to my wrist, flutter before me.

  I bolted up in bed.

  Oh, fuck!

  Taking a quick scan around my bedroom, it looked like a goddamned bomb had hit it. There were empty booze bottles and condom wrappers....no wait, used condoms littering the floor, my sheets strewn at the bottom of my bed. I caught sight of a red heel in the middle of the carpet. If I wasn’t awake before then I damned sure was now.

  What the fuck?

  Looking down my
body again, panic crawled over me when I spied red smudges around the base of my cock. Oh, fuck no...that can’t be right. I sat there stupefied, willing my head to straighten out and remember what had happened at the bar. I grasped at my hair in frustration and roared into the silence of the apartment, dread settling into my bones.

  What the fuck did I do?

  My phone rang again but I ignored it, ripping the scarf off my wrist while jumping up and searching around for my jeans. Locating them, I pulled them up over my hips and made my way through the flat, taking a walk around the other rooms. Nothing was out of place or messed up the way my bedroom was though, so I stood there scratching my head, trying to make some fucking sense of it all. My phone rang once more but I needed to piss so made my way to the bathroom before deciding to answer whoever felt the need to keep calling.

  Shoving the bathroom door open, I stopped dead with mortification. It took all of two seconds before I was reaching for the toilet basin and puking my guts up. Really puking. Collapsing on the floor several minutes later, I stayed there for a full fifteen before the sick feeling subsided. The cold floor was far better than having to confront the nightmare I’d fallen into, the ugly truth pinned to my bathroom walls. I couldn’t stomach the sight of me and Chrissie naked, never mind fucking, yet every single polaroid told the story clear as day.

  I was in big fucking trouble – huge.

  Ringing and ringing, the phone kept going, to the point my frustration made me scream out loud. There was nothing good on the other end of that call. It wouldn’t be who I wanted. No, it was someone else. Someone who knew the betrayal decorating my bathroom.

  Flushing the toilet, I dragged myself up from the floor refusing to look around me as I left the bathroom. Stomping through to my bedroom in a half daze, I combed the room for my phone. Searching for the hours I couldn’t remember as I catalogued the mess. I found the bloody phone under the bed where a red heel poked out in accusation, and answered it without glancing at the screen, not caring who it was.