My father appeared back in my vision as my mother’s silence told me she knew he was right. She’d never doubted him and had absolute faith in his ability, she believed his love for both of us kept this family whole. To my mother it was irrelevant that he fucked anything that moved and put her in her place on a regular basis. He didn’t often hit her, but with my old man, words were sometimes worse than physical blows and I was learning that again, right now.
He smoothed a hand through his hair and regained some of his composure. “It’s not about taking the beating. It’s about never giving up. When that tank is empty you keep going. You don’t stop until you die. That’s what it means to be a Teague. The blood running through your veins doesn’t make it a God given right. We don’t doubt ourselves, we fucking rule,” he spat. “You embarrassed me, but you needed to be taught a lesson. Even if that will cause me unbelievable shame. Nothing should disrupt our business, son, but tonight I let you do that. Your rush to prove a point was my chance to teach you a lesson and show you your place. If you ever get where I am, you’ll understand that sometimes, those opportunities should be taken.”
His tattoo taunted me as he stood tall and imposing and berated me. I knew growing up that I’d disappointed him on many occasions, but it had never felt as bad as this. This was a new low.
“You’ll get your ink when you’re worthy.”
Dad turned and walked out, leaving me with my mother, and if I thought the look in his eyes was bad, it was nothing compared to what I saw in hers. There was no pity for the chance I’d fucked up, no sorrow that I’d got it all so wrong, just disappointment, and it was not something she’d directed at me so vividly before.
“I’m sorry,” I croaked. “I fucked up. But I trained, you know I did.”
“It’s not about fists,” she replied, finally pitying me. “The power we rule with comes from somewhere gut deep and you need to find it. People don’t fear you because you tell them to, they fear you because they feel it seep from your pores.” Mom was morphing back into the woman I knew. The woman who would always stick by my father, no matter what, even her words were his. No longer torn between who needed her the most right now, she handed me an ice pack and followed my father out the door, I might have been the one physically bleeding, but my father would need the most consoling.
I’d fucked up.
Lying there, hating how it had all turned out, I winced as I put the ice block to my cheekbone. It hadn’t been how I’d seen the night going at all, but for all the disappointment I was to my parents, my biggest dread was telling Bailey. There was no way she’d want to be with a fuck-up like me now.
I wasn’t the king in waiting, and that’s what I’d promised her I would be.
Chapter Two
Zane Teague
Two years later – aged twenty
I took my own car. There was no way I wanted anyone to be responsible for this but me. If I made it then it would be down to me.
If people needed to feel my fear, then they would, and I’d show them that by defying the one they feared the most. My father.
Two years was a long time to have such anger and devastating disappointment brewing in the pit of your belly. It was a long time to be taunted by your family, laughed at by those that should have been worshipping you.
It had taken an eternity to look in the mirror and see skin free of the mark that should have earned me the fucking world. Every time I saw my reflection without it, I wanted to take a carving knife and score it into my skin myself.
But that wasn’t the way to get it. There was only one way and I’d be using that hate, that embarrassment and disappointment, those snide looks, that doubt, to fuel something I’d pushed aside in the past.
My rage.
“Not tonight, Zane,” the doorman blocking my entrance to the warehouse said, his tone low and menacing.
He was a big motherfucker, capable of delaying even the most persistent of people, so those who mattered could leave undetected in the event of a crisis. He also knew my father liked things to run in perfect order with clockwork precision, and my attendance would be seen as my usual disruptive liberty. If I fucked it up this time, there was no coming back from it.
“Move,” I growled, fully prepared to go through him if necessary.
He eyed me cautiously, debating what was the safer course of action because if he took me on and hurt me, he’d pay dearly through some punishment metered out by my father. If he let me in and got that wrong, I knew his beating would be severe. “Your funeral.”
I walked through the door and the quarterly sale of flesh was in full flow. The girls didn’t look any less terrified than the first time I’d seen them. They needed to get used to a life of servitude pretty quickly considering they’d already ceased to be human. Now they were simply possessions, to do with as whatever their owners saw fit.
A few people glanced my way as I passed them, moving toward the back of the room. While I didn’t want to announce my arrival, I was sure my father would’ve already been told before I got anywhere near him and for that reason, I steered clear. I wanted to save myself the embarrassment of being thrown out and him the bore of having to do it. A visible show of force against me from my father would not cement my place in the business.
Staying out of the way, with my back against the wall, one foot popped up against it and my arms folded across my chest, I watched as the auction began. This time I wasn’t wearing dress pants and a shirt, I was wearing denim jeans, a simple black t-shirt and a leather jacket. I looked at my watch and knew I wouldn’t have long to wait. This time they would see me differently, not some frat jock hanging off my daddy’s coattails. Anxious to prove myself, once the auction was over and the men prepared to leave the warehouse, I stepped forward and broke the hum of conversation. My father’s face was thunderous at the prospect of being shamed for a second time. Over the last two years I’d heard nothing but how he was having to work hard to rebuild our reputation, how it had all fallen to him to be the strong one. It was for that reason I hadn’t asked for another go at being jumped into the family business, he would never have agreed.
It was time to show him I meant business and that not even he could stand in my way.
Pulling my jacket and watch off, I left them in a pile on the floor like they were valueless. I walked to the middle of the circle, the look on the faces of those glaring at me were equally as angry as my father’s. They didn’t want to be witness to another beating either, because without doubt, they’d felt the wrath of my father’s mood the last time. To say I wasn’t popular for that alone was an understatement. People in our business took any punishment they’d earned but having to eat shit and stay respectful when they’d done nothing wrong meant earning their respect was twice the hard task I already had on my hands.
I ran a hand down my beard, it was shorter than normal and stood there waiting to see who would step forward. No one moved as the room fell quiet.
“Fuck it,” I finally heard from behind me. “No retribution?” he queried.
I knew whoever the voice belonged to was looking for my father’s permission to come on in and annihilate me.
I turned to see it was the same man I’d faced before. Two years had done nothing to diminish his physique, if anything he was more hardened. His question also told me he’d suffered for his part in our last meeting.
This man wanted his revenge and his own reputation back.
I looked to my father, his face no less thunderous than before, and he nodded once.
Yeah, I had real big problems if I didn’t do it this time and I would never take my place by his side.
I waited for my opponent to take his shirt off, noticing the familiar tattoo across his collar bone. He thought he was better than me and that was something I planned to dissuade him of.
He circled me, taunted me, sure of himself. “Balls finally dropped?” He laughed. “Found your cock, have you? Figured out it’s more than just a floppy bit of skin you
piss through?” He crooked his pinky and the men around me laughed. “This time I won’t be kind, might even hand you your little sausage so you can suck on that instead of your momma’s titties.”
Only some of the men laughed this time because jokes at my mother’s expense were a risk in front of my father.
The fucker in front of me bobbed on his feet, came close and threw a punch before toe tapping back. All it did was cause the swell of anger inside me. He was the sort of man I didn’t want to work for me. He didn’t deserve to wear my family’s ink; that was an honor and I planned to remind him of that.
He rushed me and threw a punch, connecting with my jaw, but it didn’t hurt, it didn’t shock me like it did last time. It spurred me on. I staggered back a pace and heard the wince in the men surrounding us. They were waiting for the same end result as last time, but I shook off their assumptions, shook off the punch, and ignored my father who in that moment was insignificant.
I wasn’t doing this for him.
I was doing this for me.
The only person I had something to prove to, was me.
When he came at me a second time, I felt the hunger for the fight, the adrenaline urging me to take it to him. I let him swing another punch and as soon as his guard was down, and his arm was extended, I punched hard into his side, delivering a blow he wasn’t expecting. He faltered and bent double and that was my in. With a series of uppercuts to his face and jaw, followed by a combination of jabs, I welcomed the blood lust.
I wanted more. Needed it.
Quickly, my hand felt wet, and I knew I’d broken the skin, he flailed his arms wildly like a windmill, but none connected. I could smell his fear, his panic that this wasn’t going according to his plan, because it was following mine.
I stepped back, taking a breath, looking at my opponent, his fury urging mine into celebration. He would know his place shortly. As predicted, he rushed me, and I took my chance. A one-two combination sent him to the floor, where I decided enough was enough. It was time that everyone here saw the Zane Teague who would be the future of this family. I knelt down on one knee and battered him. The crunch of his cheekbone telling me when it had finally given way, his blood splattering me, I was that close.
Blow after blow, I zoned out, nothing else existed as I was oblivious to my surroundings, nothing less than total annihilation would be satisfactory. It was just him and me, and only one of us was going to walk out of there.
“Enough!” My father bellowed.
His words were a distant echo from somewhere out there, but I wasn’t done yet; I wasn’t ready to obey John Teague. I carried on until two men dragged me off the body that I had beaten to a pulp. I didn’t even have an idea whether he was breathing, he definitely wasn’t conscious, but I didn’t give a fuck, I knew I’d turned the corner.
My deep-seated rage had served me. It was raw and guttural and part of my DNA.
The two men set me free, and everyone waited patiently for my father’s verdict. Everyone apart from me. I walked past him, collected my leather jacket and watch from the floor and turned for the door. Before I made it through that door, a gunshot rang out.
My opponent, either euthanized in disappointment, or mercy.
At my car I pulled my T-shirt off, wiped my hands and face on it, and climbed into the driver’s seat not caring that I was only half clothed. If I didn’t get my ink this time, I would go it alone.
Instead of an ally, a trusted general, a future leader, my father would have himself an enemy.
I’d learned from the best, I hadn’t spent the last two years getting my head straight, taking barbs and jabs from him, and getting in shape; I’d been watching, paying attention.
I drove around for a while, up to the Griffith Observatory and looked out over the lights of LA. Not putting off going home but biding my time. The rage had served me well, but it had a place and I needed to get it under control before I faced my parents. If my father didn’t think I could be cold and calculated, he’d misjudged the growing I’d done the last two years.
Back at the house I saw that his car was parked up. He was home.
Now or never.
My fate lay inside that house.
Our family’s fate was on the other side of the door. If John Teague didn’t think I was determined, he was wrong, and I would put all that determination into destroying him and everything he’d built if this didn’t go my way.
The house was quiet. Lamps lit the hallway as I progressed towards his office, where I knew he’d be. I opened the door, and he was stood there, waiting for me. My mom was elsewhere, maybe hiding because I’d taken shit into my own hands this time and forced it, there would be no defending me on that.
“Son. I hate unexpected disruptions, especially at a business meeting.”
Fuck. Was he disappointed? My knuckles felt sore as I wiped my nose and the bristles of my beard caught the open cuts. I stayed quiet, he needed to lead the way forward, be it prosperity or destruction. I tried to read his mood, see which way this was going to go and found the only clue in the twinkle of eyes.
Pride.
Wholesome pride in a son who had come good.
Then he laughed, almost breathing with relief. “Finally the disruptive little cunt comes good.” He stepped to one side, and behind him a man was waiting. That man buzzed the tattoo gun, once, twice, then fiddled with the machine it was connected to.
“Finally, the business gains another Teague warrior. Welcome to the dark side, son.”
Nine months later my mom fell ill, they’d diagnosed breast cancer. She battled in the beginning, but I knew when she’d become resigned to her fate. We even argued that she was choosing to accept it as a way out of this life. Part of me thought she always knew she was ill but clung on until she knew I’d been jumped in and was side by side with my father.
With her hand clasped in mine, I’d stayed by her side during her final days. “I can go knowing he has you where he needs you now.”
Hearing her confirm what I thought from the minute I knew she was ill did nothing to ease the pain inside me. “Mom…” It felt like I was swallowing knives. “That’s a shit reason to bail. Come on.”
“I’m tired, Zane. You, my son, were my greatest pleasure in life. I pray that you get to feel that.”
“Need to find a woman first.” I smiled, and when she smiled back at me, her lips had no color in them, her face was sunken and sallow. The light in her green eyes wasn’t as sharp, the color not as intense as I’d always thought.
“When you find her, don’t make the same mistakes as your father. It’s a partnership, two halves make the whole piece. Treat her right and she’ll be your biggest asset.”
Her eyes closed and I squeezed her hand, causing them to pop open and refocus on me; I wasn’t ready for her to leave me yet. I would’ve taken all her words, prophetic, loving and caring, I would’ve sat and listened to her jibber utter nonsense if it kept her on the earth with me.
“Your father,” she wheezed. “He did his best; he just didn’t know how to handle the crown. Forgive him for finding his feet. It’s a lot of pressure. You, though, you’ll be different. Want to know why?”
“I do, Mom, I want to know it all.” It was as close as I would go to begging her to stay with me.
“Because the half of you that’s all me has the spirit and back bone the Teague bloodline needed.”
“Compassion won’t help me be any better than Dad.”
She pulled her hand from mine and cupped my cheek, rubbing a thumb through my scruffy beard, before letting it drift along my top lip.
“I didn’t give you my compassion, son, I gave you that disruptive spirit.” I’d never seen her be like that at all. Not once. She smiled at me. “See, I’ve just disrupted everything you thought you knew about me. I gave your father as good as he got, I just let you think he had it all his own way.”
I laughed and she smiled, my eyes caught a coating of red on her teeth, her gums were bleeding
again, but while she didn’t notice, I wasn’t going to say anything.
“Never lose that, son, it will keep you alive, keep those who doubt us on their toes. They expect someone in their father’s shadow, but when your time comes, they’ll see just how strong this family really is. You were born to do this, son. Now, I love you, but I need to sleep.”
I kissed her cheek, breathing deep, hoping for some small scent of the woman she used to be to infect my senses and be locked within me forever. I needed more than that spirit she claimed she’d passed down. The machines around me carried on, blipping and beeping like normal. When they’d first been installed, they gave me a constant reminder that my mother had been brought home to die.
“I love you more, Mom,” I whispered and kissed her again, ruffling the sheets tucked around her body, desperate for something, anything to do so it meant I didn’t have to leave her just yet.
I walked down the hallway to my father’s office and knocked on the door, pushing it open. “She’s sleeping, but I don’t think we should leave her alone.”
“I’m busy, got a call with New York in a bit.”
I breathed deep and looked at him, really looked at him. He looked tired. No amount of professional close shaves and crisply ironed shirts distracted you from the lines under his eyes and the constant frown on his brow. I wanted to shout and scream that my mom was dying and the least he could do was show her the love and devotion during her last hours that she’d shown to him over the countless years, but I wouldn’t. I’d promised her and arguing with him while she was dying a few doors down didn’t help me achieve anything.
“I’ll take the call,” I offered.
He sighed and exhaled, slumping forward so his forearms were rested on the top of his desk. “You can’t. I need to do it, it’s about—”
“I don’t give a fuck what it’s about,” I spat, finally losing part of the careful tether I had on my temper. “Your fucking wife is dying; all this bullshit will be here after… after. Go be the man she’s just tried to convince me you are.”
Disruption Page 2
