Dirty Bad Savage

by Jade West

“I heard they beat you up,” she said. “Got you good, didn’t they? That’s why you been staying away. I know you, Callum Jackson. I ain’t a fool, know you didn’t want me to see.”

  “Been around, Vick, just been busy.”

  “Rumours been flying all around the estate, Cal. Heard you were kissing that estate manager down by Al’s. That true?”

  “You sure know a lot, don’t ya? Dunno where you get it all from.”

  She held up her mobile. “Facebook.”

  I fucking hated that shit and she knew it. “Me getting beat up’s all over the internet is it? Un-fucking-likely, Vick. Ain’t nobody knew about that.” Her colour drained, and that’s when I knew. “He’s been round, ain’t he? Jones? You’d better have called the fucking pigs.”

  “Ain’t calling the pigs, Cal. He didn’t stay long.”

  My hands clenched into fists in my pockets. “What’d he fucking want?”

  “Said he could look after me, like. Me and Slay. Said he could tell the Stoneys to back off, leave me alone.”

  “Stoneys ain’t coming after you and Slay, Vick. Debt’s mine now.”

  She offered me a cigarette and I took it gladly. “He says Stoneys won’t give a shit if you’ve taken the debt, still me they’ll come for.” She leaned into me, eyes wide and scared. “He said they’re hardcore, Cal, the real deal. Showed me a vid on his phone, of them poisoning someone with some shit, lad convulsing all over the place, real sick. Couldn’t even watch it. Ty thought it was funny, sick cunt. He said they cut off people’s fingers too, burn them as well if they need to.”

  “He’s full of shit, Vicki. Call the fucking pigs next time.”

  But he weren’t full of shit and I knew it.

  “He said you’re dead meat. Said some tough guy from Croydon’s after you, too. Don’t reckon you’ll be round much longer.”

  “That’s complicated,” I said. “Just mind your own, will you? I’ll sort it.”

  “Where you been, Cal, really? You been hiding?”

  “Summat like that.”

  “You wiv her? That Harding woman?”

  I shrugged. “Got no answers, Vick. Just hanging out.”

  “What about me, Cal, when we gonna be hanging out?”

  I felt fucking shitty, trying to protect her but making her so fucking sad. “Dunno, Vick, whenever you want. I’m here, yeah? Always will be.”

  “Tonight?” she asked. My heart dropped. I thought of Soph at hers, her sweet, warm arms. Her sweet, hot cunt all hungry for me. Vicki sighed. “Please, Cal. Hardly seen you.”

  I looked into Vicki’s eyes and I knew I couldn’t say no. Mates look out for each other, and Vick needed me. I could see it in her. “Alright, yeah. I’ll come back later.”

  She looked so pissing happy it made me sick to my stomach.

  ***

  Chapter Twelve

  Callum

  I always knew when Sophie was coming, but I never said so. She’d run up behind me, squeeze me tight and whisper surprise in my ear. Felt nice, that’s why I didn’t say nothing, but Case always made it obvious, ears pricked up and tail going for six whenever Soph came nearby. Her furry arse would go charging off, and I’d hear Sophie shushing her, rustling in her bag for treats. Cheap bribes, but they worked every time.

  Casey loved Sophie Harding, just as much as I did.

  “I’m done for the day,” she whispered, planting sweet hot kisses on my neck. I reached back for her, hands on her hips as she studied my canvas.

  “Look alright?”

  “Better than alright. It’s bloody beautiful. I guess Explicit made an impression last weekend.”

  I smiled. It was abstract, but not abstract enough for Soph from the looks. The slashes of colour across the canvas were chains, the play of white on black was the spotlight. Then the shadows... the curves of the woman in the foreground. A woman suspended entirely in chains, wrapped up tight for her punishment.

  “Diva, right?”

  “Aye.”

  Hadn’t seen Masque and Cat play again, not yet. Kinda wanted to, though. Still felt weird about all that stuff, but not weird enough to wanna stop. Floggers and paddles and handcuffs and shit were becoming second nature now, but they weren’t what got me off. Owning Sophie’s sweet little cunt was what got me off. Her soft moans, the way she begged. Sometimes she’d look at me like I was an animal. I liked that, but it was the other times, when she looked at me like I was a man, a somebody, they were the times I loved.

  She held up a bag. “I picked up steak for dinner, some for Casey, too.”

  My heart sank all over again. “Can’t come over tonight, Soph. Need to go to Vick’s.”

  If she was upset it didn’t show. “I’ll make a date with the microwave instead, then. Steak can wait.”

  “You could go out,” I said. “See Raven. Or your family. Don’t think I ain’t noticed you’re avoiding them.”

  She smiled. “I could... alternatively, I could wait until this Southbank shit’s out the way and resurface when it’s back to business as usual.”

  I pulled her into me, breathing in her hair. “Walk your own road. Don’t skulk away in the shadows, not you, Soph. That ain’t your place. Nothing to be scared of.”

  She sighed. “I’m not scared, it’s just easier. If you knew my dad you’d know what I mean.”

  I wanted to say something. Something stupid like maybe one day I would know him. I didn’t, though. My cheeks burned at the thought. Like we could ever be something. It felt like it, though, sometimes, it felt like we were. That’s the thing I loved most of all.

  “I’d better get going,” she said. “Let you get to Vicki’s.”

  “See ya tomorrow, then.”

  She pulled a face. “Where’s Casey staying?”

  “Shed,” I shrugged. “With me.”

  Sophie folded her arms, her mouth all stern and pursed. “You’re not staying in a shed, Callum, and neither is Casey. She’s an indoors pooch now, I’m taking her home.”

  I looked at Case staring up at Soph like she was the bee’s fucking knees, tongue lolling out all happy, like.

  “I dunno, Soph. She might trash everything.”

  She rolled her eyes. “She’s already done her worst. Another bin spillage isn’t going to break me.”

  Sophie turned on her heels and took off, calling Casey along with her. Big brown eyes stared up at me, waiting for permission. Would be weird, being without her. Would be weird being without both of them.

  I shrugged. “Go on, then, Case, go after her. Go find Sophie.”

  ***

  I played with Slay before Vicki put him down for the night. Pencil crayons in front of the TV. I drew him some pictures, of Case, and his mam, and of choo-choo trains, and he scribbled all over them, eyes fixed in concentration like he was a proper little artist.

  “That’s great, that is,” I said, holding it up. “Really good, Slay. Clever, you are, sharp little man.”

  His smile lit me up.

  Vick was quiet when she came back down. She’d changed into her nightie, one of her posh satin things. She sat by me on the sofa, pulling her legs under her.

  “He loves you,” she said again. “Thinks you’re the dog’s bloody bollocks, that lad.”

  “Love him, Vick, he’s a smashing kid.”

  “Better than his real dad. Piece of shit.”

  “He’ll get a proper dad one day, someone nice, who can take care of him. Take care of both of you.”

  “You take care of us, Cal.” She reached out for my hand, squeezing my fingers.

  “Gonna get this Stoney shit sorted, Vicki. Don’t worry about it.”

  “Ain’t your problem,” she said. “It should be me sorting it. I’m so sorry, Cal. I know they beat you bad, and it’s my fault, innit? I fucked up.”

  I pulled her over, wrapped an arm round her shoulder. “Don’t be daft. Wouldn’t change it. Only a few scratches, anyway.”

  “How we gonna get twelve hundred quid together? Ty sai
d next week or they’re gonna skin your arse.”

  “I’ll do some deliveries,” I said. “Some bigger ones. The biggest fucking ones.”

  “They’ll send you down again and where’ll we be then, eh? Don’t wanna be without you, Cal. Hated it when you were inside.”

  My nerves were on edge, sensing danger, but I smiled it all off. “Might not need to do deliveries, anyway. Not now I got the studio.”

  “Studio?! What studio?”

  I told Vicki all about it. About Sophie setting it up for me, about her mate Raven, and Raven’s art dealer contacts, and all the new paintings I’d done and everything. Vicki listened to the whole lot, wide-eyed like a doll. She didn’t interrupt and didn’t ask questions, just took it all in until I finished.

  “Jeez, Callum, that’s some crazy shit.”

  “Mental, innit? Me with me own bloody art studio. Maybe I’ll strike lucky, eh? Sell a painting to some posh toff in his manor.”

  “Can I come see it? Maybe we could hang out? I could bring some sarnies down at lunchtime, bring Slay too. He’d like that.”

  “Over in Haygrove,” I said. “Too far for you and Slay. I’ll come up here, though, keep popping in.”

  “It ain’t that far, Cal. I don’t mind.”

  “We’ll see then, yeah?”

  She dropped her eyes. “It’s that Sophie, innit? You’re with her all the time.”

  “I’m with her a bit, Vick, yeah.” I felt like a fucking arsehole all over again.

  “Is it serious?”

  “Dunno what it is.” I was telling the truth. “I like her. A lot.”

  “And she likes you?”

  “Hope so,” I sighed. “Dunno.”

  She pulled away a bit, shrugging it off. “Bit of fun, then, I guess, ain’t it? Not like you got much in common.” Her words twisted in my gut harder than they should have. I felt myself clamming up, shutters coming down. “She’s a posh bird, ain’t she? Probably likes a bit of rough.” She elbowed me in the ribs, harder than a bloody joke, but I didn’t say anything. “You’ll be round here again quick smart when she’s had her fill.”

  “I’m tired now, Vick. Let’s call it a night, yeah?” I pulled my hoodie up.

  She looked at the clock. “Ain’t even ten o’clock. Ain’t getting all tetchy about lover girl, are you? I was only joking.”

  “Raven’s coming round for them pictures in a couple of days. Got a lot to do.”

  She hovered in the doorway so long I couldn’t bear to look. “You can come up if you want, share the bed, like. More comfy.”

  “I’m alright here, Vick.” I smiled at her and she smiled back, but it was an empty smile.

  It took her fucking ages to go upstairs, and it took me even longer to bed down for the night.

  ***

  Sophie

  “It’s a bloody work night,” Bex laughed. “I’ll be spelling people’s fucking tats wrong tomorrow if you don’t stop. I’ll send them round to you for compensation.”

  She held out her glass regardless, ready for a refill. “Just need to get you drunk enough that you don’t care.”

  Raven looked strange in this place, infinitely more flamboyant than the neutral colour scheme. She did a funny whistle again as she eyed the place, high-pitched enough that Casey jumped up on her lap. The dog took advantage when Bex didn’t push her aside, curling up between us on the sofa.

  “I still can’t believe this is your pad,” Bex said. “It’s seriously swanky. Not even Masque’s pad is this neat. I’ll have to bring Cara next time, make a foursome of it.”

  “Harding’s property empire sure buys the best.”

  “Mood lighting, voice activated entertainment system, view of the Thames... Christ on a bike. I’m surprised Cal’s comfortable breathing in this place.”

  “Not so sure he is,” I smiled. “He still perches on the edge of the sofa, scared to dirty it.”

  “Seems madam here isn’t so self-restrained.” Raven scruffed up Casey’s ears until she rolled on her back, no longer even playing at being covert in her sofa-furring mission.

  “Madam is taking over the place, one soft furnishing at a time.”

  “I’m impressed, didn’t take you for much of a dog lover.”

  “What’s not to love?” I grinned. “Well, besides the bin raiding and nose in all the cupboards and the fur on the pillows.”

  “You love it all,” she laughed. “And her daddy too.”

  “I need to ask you something.” I poured the rest of the bottle in my glass.

  “Sounds ominous.”

  “About me,” I explained. “Do I seem right to you?”

  “Right?”

  “Sane, I mean, healthy. Regular. Normal.”

  She smiled. “No, you don’t seem right, thank fuck.”

  “I’m serious. I feel like I’m off the rails.”

  Her eyes fixed on mine. “Isn’t that what the Mr Dangerous quest was all about? You’re breaking out, baby, that’s a good thing.”

  “I’m being reckless, impulsive... crazy. The stunt on the balcony, I mean seriously, Bex, what the fuck was that all about?”

  “You’d have been fucking dead if he’d have lost his grip,” she said. “Just be grateful you got your period and let it go, it’s the least of your worries now. You two are all in. It’s a collision of needs, baby, two people wanting more, and veering across the road and back before they find what works.”

  “Sounds poetic. I think he makes me crazy.”

  “Maybe he does. Is that bad?” Her eyes twinkled, and I just knew there was so much more she could be saying.

  “Part of me thinks it’s bad. Part of me can’t live without it.”

  She shuffled up, leaning in conspiratorially even though we were the only ones there. “Talk about him, I want to hear all the loved-up crap.”

  I took a breath, then glugged back some wine. “I’ve never met anyone like him. He doesn’t have the same filters that I have, doesn’t have the same massive list of shit he feels he can and can’t do. He doesn’t second guess himself, and sure as hell isn’t worried what everyone thinks of him, or how he looks, or how he appears on social media. He’s refreshingly unrestrained.”

  “And...” she prompted.

  “And he’s wild, and raw, and aggressive... he’ll take what he wants, when he wants it. He doesn’t live in fear of convention. He doesn’t hold back.”

  She smiled. “And...”

  I sighed. “More?”

  “Keep rolling, baby.”

  “And he’s deep. He’s a beautiful tragedy. A beautiful savage. The way he looks at the world, the way he paints... the way he loves.”

  “Now who’s poetic?”

  I whacked her with a cushion. “Told you I was fucking crazy.”

  “You’re not crazy, baby. You’re in love.”

  “That is fucking crazy, Bex. How can it ever work?”

  She sighed, putting her glass down. “Please don’t take this where I think it’s headed.”

  “My job... my family...”

  “Can all get stuffed,” she cut in. “You either love him, or you don’t, but make that decision for yourself, not for anyone else. The kid’s got some issues, but he’s a good kid, Sophie. Don’t kick him to the kerb for the sake of lousy bloody convention, you’re fucking better than that.”

  I really hoped so.

  ***

  I sat bolt upright in bed, heart thumping. My ears strained, battling through the clouds in my muggy, alcohol-impaired brain. Casey was growling in the darkness, staring out into the space beyond the door.

  I sighed in relief when I heard the knocking. Casey’s tail brushed my arm, wagging like crazy, and her growls changed to whines as I padded to the doorway.

  “Callum?”

  “Yeah.”

  I opened the door, glancing at the oven clock. “Jeez, it’s gone four a.m.”

  He brushed past, brooding, his hands stuffed in his pockets. Aside from saying hello to Casey he
didn’t utter a word, just pressed up against the doorway, staring. I could feel his eyes on me, gorgeous and feral. An old cotton nightshirt really hadn’t been the most flattering choice of sleeping attire, but I hadn’t been expecting him. I wrapped my arms around myself.

  “What happened?”

  He shook his head. Shrugged.

  “You walked over from East Veil?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Christ.” I flicked the kitchen light on. “Want a coffee?”

  No response.

  “Wasn’t expecting this,” I said, filling the kettle. “I thought you were staying at Vicki’s. I expected...”

  I squealed as he slammed up behind, forcing me forward until I bashed into the running tap, cold water spraying over my shirt. The cotton clung like a second skin, cold and slick to my breasts as Callum’s hot breath stroked my ear. The shock broke through my wine coma, and I was wide awake, heart quickening.

  “Need you.” His words were just a grunted whisper. “Now.”

  This was the animal Callum, the savage who gave me shivers, the man who made my pussy ache on sight. I dropped the kettle in the sink, using my hands as leverage to grind back against him. I could feel his hard on swelling through his jeans, pulsing against the crack of my ass.

  His rough hands on my tits, twisting my nipples through the fabric.

  The cramps in my stomach reminded me of an unfortunate truth.

  “Fuck, Callum,” I groaned. “I can’t.”

  He wasn’t deterred, grabbing at my tits without restraint.

  “Cal, stop. I’m on my period.”

  He grunted, but still he persisted, reaching down to claw at the hem of my nightdress. He yanked it over my head before I could object. I cringed at the reality of him seeing my period panties. I tried to move from his grip but he was having none of it.

  “Need you,” he growled. “Don’t fucking care.”

  I cared. I cared a lot. I shifted against him, fighting my own desperation for his cock. His fingers pressed into the padding between my legs, hunting for my clit.

  “Shit, Callum...”

  “Gonna take you,” he said. “Don’t fight me.”