Shattered Poetry (Broken Lives #2)

by Marita A. Hansen

  “Shut it!” I smacked his arm good-naturedly. “And keep your teeth to yourself, Dracula.”

  Laughing, he kicked his legs out, banging his heels against the veranda again.

  I smiled at him, his laughter full of exuberance. “I love it when you laugh.”

  “I love it when you smile.”

  Both embarrassed and flattered, I dropped my gaze, then looked back up at him, the smile slipping from my lips, worry replacing it. “Will you leave me when you get bored?”

  He stopped laughing instantly. “Why would you ask that?”

  “Because you scare me.”

  He frowned. “Why?”

  “I told you I love you.”

  “I said it back, and again, I don’t say the L word lightly.”

  “But is it a love that’ll last?”

  “I want it to.”

  “You’re young. The odds of us working out are low.”

  He took hold of my hand. “We’ll beat the odds, then.”

  “People won’t accept our relationship. We’ll have to hide it.”

  “Only until I’m sixteen, then they can’t do shit.”

  I grimaced, knowing that wasn’t true, that we would have to hide things for much longer.

  He let go of my hand. “What’s up with that face? It looks like you don’t think we’ll last.”

  “It’s not that—”

  He cut me off. “Then what?” Before I could answer, he snapped, “You’ve changed your mind ’bout leaving your husband, haven’t ya?” He grabbed the bottle of vodka and pushed off the veranda, landing on the grass below. “Go fuck off back to him then, I’m no one’s second choice.”

  I jumped down after him. “I can’t believe you just said that,” I growled, following him to the beach, the sand pushing between my toes. “And I do know something else about you. You’re not only rude and disrespectful, you jump to conclusions and bark at me as soon as I say something you don’t like. And you’re my first choice, so stop acting so defensive.”

  He turned to face me, the water lapping at his heels. “I’m defensive cos you make me feel like you’re lookin’ for things to prove I ain’t good enough for you. And respect is gained, not guaranteed just cos you’re old.”

  “I’m not old!”

  “I didn’t say you were. Though, you act like it at times. You needa loosen up majorly.” He held out the bottle of vodka.

  “I don’t need alcohol to loosen up.”

  “Yeah, right.” He lifted the bottle to his lips, tipping it back.

  “And you’re an alcoholic.”

  He continued to drink, not looking like he cared.

  I yanked the bottle off him. “Can we just go back to the easy questions?”

  He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “Fine. What’s your favourite food?”

  “Yorkshire pudding and chocolate cake, actually anything that’s chocolate. But I hate white chocolate, it’s not real—”

  “—chocolate,” he finished my sentence. “And I agree.”

  I exhaled, relieved he was answering nicely again. “What’s your favourite food?”

  “Golden Queen peaches, chocolate mousse, makaroni.” He smiled. “And your sweet, sweet pussy.” He waggled his tongue at me.

  Smiling, I smacked his chest, his shirt buttons undone. He was making me smile and frown, laugh and scowl within seconds of each other, my feelings all over the place with him.

  “I like macaroni cheese, too,” I said.

  “Nah, makaroni is totally different from mac and cheese. It’s a Croatian meat and pasta dish. I also love blitva.”

  “What’s blitva?”

  “More Croatian food,” he answered. “It’s a mixture of silver beet, potato, olive oil, and garlic. Blitva just means silver beet, but we call the dish that. We also sometimes add zeja to it, which is a type of cabbage, although it’s more like a tough silver beet.”

  “You know,” I said, still smiling. “It’s nice when you answer my questions without jumping down my throat. I’d like to see more of this side of you, rather than the insult and walk away one.”

  He held his arms out wide. “Take me as I am or don’t take me at all. I’m not changing for you.”

  “I didn’t ask you to, I just ... it’s like you’re more than one person, and I never know which one’s going to pop up.”

  “I don’t have multiple personalities, if that’s what you’re gettin’ at. I may be crazy; I’m just not that crazy.”

  “You’re not crazy at all, just incredibly unpredictable.”

  “That’s your interpretation.”

  His phone started ringing. He pulled it out of his back pocket, the sound cutting off before he could answer. “Damn, it’s gone to voicemail.” He frowned. “Fuckin’ hell, there’s six messages on ’ere. I didn’t hear it ring before.” Complaining about paying for messages, he keyed in a number and placed it to his ear. His frown grew, then he swore. He pressed another number, then placed it to his ear again, repeating the action a few more times, obviously checking each message.

  Once he was finished, he entered a longer number. “Hemi,” he said into the phone. “I’ll be back soon, so chill the fuck out.” He hung up, cutting off a yell, obviously not giving Jasper’s dad enough time to talk.

  “What’s wrong?” I asked.

  “Jasper’s old man’s on the warpath,” he said, turning his phone off, “which means I hafta go. Can you drop me off at the compound?”

  I nodded. “Is he mad about me?”

  “Dunno, just wuz gettin’ riled up, asking where I wuz and for me to get my arse home. And don’t worry ’bout him, I’ll make sure he stays away from you. Remember, I have sumpthin’ on him, so you have nuthin’ to worry about, babe.” He gave me a reassuring kiss on the forehead, then headed for the house, climbing back onto the veranda.

  I followed him, hoping he was right.

  27

  Dante

  Clara dropped me off on the road that led to my gang’s compound. I walked down the long driveway, glancing at the prez’s house, the Croatian influence making me think of my mother’s family. Because of my dad, I hadn’t seen them for a while. He was now refusing to take me up north, telling me to get a lift with my cousin. He hated my mum’s family, called them racist pigs, which pissed me off, because they weren’t. Well, maybe my dida was at times, but no more than my dad, my grandfather just a reverse version of him.

  Reaching out, I picked a grape off one of the vines lining the driveway, popping it into my mouth, the tart taste different from the grapes my dida used. He also made wine, but for family and friends, not business. I smiled, remembering the first time I’d tasted wine. I’d been eight at the time. My baba had yelled at my dida for giving me a sip, but he’d waved her off, saying it wasn’t enough to do me harm. My uncle had laughed in turn, saying he’d been seven when he’d first tasted wine. My dida had nodded, stating that our people were drinkers of wine, not beer. He’d looked me straight in the eyes, telling me not to forget that I was more Croatian than anything else, then he’d ranted about those bloody Maoris, not seeming to realise I was one of those ‘bloody Maoris’. Yeah, maybe he was majorly racist, but again, he was just the same as my dad, who in turn ranted about those bloody Croatians, even though he’d married one and had spawned two more.

  I continued down the driveway, waving at the guard manning the compound’s gate. He was a prospect, or I should say, a wannabe Skin. Some members were opposed to using the word prospect, since they said the name was only for MC scum. We were a gang, who drove or rode whatever the fuck we liked. Whether it was motorbikes, trucks or cars, it didn’t matter, even a bloody scooter was allowed, though, the bloke who owned it got ribbed mercilessly.

  The guard opened the small door next to the gate, yelling out, “Duck!”

  I rolled my eyes, knowing he was referring to Hemi’s annoying habit of smacking the back of people’s heads. Yeah, Hemi was pissed off to the max, but he didn’t have a
fucking say in what I did. He wasn’t my dad.

  I headed across the concrete car park, aiming for the club’s main entrance. Another guard was standing next to the door. There were also a few stationed around the fence’s perimeter, which wasn’t the norm, since there was usually only one guard at the gated entrance. I wondered whether it was due to the Devil’s Crew. Most likely.

  I lifted my chin up in a friendly hello to the guard.

  Kapo grimaced in return. He was a massive Tongan dude, with wide shoulders, tree trunks for arms, a beer gut, and a permanent scowl. “You’re in a world of trouble, kid,” he said. “If I were you, I wouldn’t just duck, I’d fuckin’ run. The vice prez is on the warpath over you taking off. He was out searching for you for ages.”

  I frowned. “Why the fuck for? He ain’t my dad.”

  “He thought the DC got to you. Was tryna talk the prez into storming the Devil’s Crew pad.”

  I blinked, surprised by his words. “Why would he do that for?”

  “You can’t be serious? That man considers you a son.”

  I screwed up my face. “Nah, you’re tripping, plus I’ve got a dad. Def don’t need another one.”

  Kapo rolled his eyes. “Yeah, Tane.”

  I clenched my hands, ready to punch him if he slagged off my dad. “What’s that s’posed to mean?”

  “Just got a message from my bro. Melino found your dad drunk and sandwiched between two birds.” Kapo shook his head. “He can’t keep it in his pants, can he?”

  Or out of your woman, you clueless fuck. “Bein’ wedged between two chicks is fun, so why should he? Once, when I wuz fuckin’ this chick from behind, her friend started sucking on my balls. I almost busted the condom from how hard I blew my load.” I held back a grimace, still pissed off that those two bitches thought I was a ho.

  Kapo sneered at me.

  “What? You think I’m lying?”

  “Nah,” he said. “With Tane as a father, I definitely believe you. Still, you shouldn’t be having threesomes, let alone fucking. You’re just a kid.”

  “A kid who gets laid way more than you, so lemme in, pussy repellent.”

  “I hope the vice prez smacks you hard, you cheeky li’l bastard.” He stepped aside, giving the impression he’d rather kick me across the parking lot than let me enter.

  Knowing he wouldn’t do jack shit, I flicked him the finger and stepped inside the clubhouse, smiling as he swore at me. Bypassing the cloakroom, I headed into the main bar area, scanning my surroundings to make sure Hemi didn’t blindside me. A bar curved out from the wall on my left, while tables and chairs filled the rest of the space, along with TV screens, a small stage, and some couches. And a bunch of mangy gang members drinking beer and talking shit. There was way more than usual for this time of day, everyone probably congregating due to the DC problem.

  I weaved between the tables, getting wassups and kia oras, as well as a few ducks, which were now making me nervous. Though, they shouldn’t, since Hemi had no right to do his nut in at me. If anything, I should be the one angry at him for ordering me back. I’d been happy at Killer’s house with Mrs. Hatton... Shit! I needed to stop calling her that. Maybe I would once she left her husband. Plus, she was my woman now, and you didn’t call your woman by her last name, especially one that belonged to another man.

  I entered the passageway that led to my room, almost jumping out of my skin at the loud boom of Hemi’s voice. I spun around, automatically taking a few steps back. He was charging towards me like a bull on the rampage. As he neared me, I ducked, but no hit came. Instead, he yanked me to his chest, hugging me tight. I went stiff, taken aback by what he was doing.

  “I thought I wouldn’t see you again,” he said, his voice breaking.

  I remained still, in shock over what he was doing. “Ah... Why?”

  “I thought the Devil’s Crew got to you.” He pulled back, but didn’t let go completely, his hands moving to my arms. “Why didn’t you take that ride like we fuckin’ agreed?”

  I grimaced at him. “You shouldn’t have sent Ngaire.”

  He blinked at me, appearing surprised. “I didn’t, I sent Killer.”

  “Well, he didn’t show, and there’s no way I wuz gonna get in a car with that greasy bitch.”

  His face hardened. “I’m not liking what I’m hearing from you, boy.”

  “And I’m not liking you right now either, so lemme go!”

  He lowered his face to mine, fury settling in. “Don’t you dare talk to me like that. I’m whānau.”

  “You ain’t family.”

  “Yes, I am, and if I have my way, it’ll be made legal.”

  “What the fuck’s that s’posed to mean?”

  “Since your useless excuse of a father can’t take care of you, I will.”

  “He’s not useless!” I yelled, shoving the bastard, but getting nowhere, Hemi way too big.

  “Yes, he is!” he yelled back. “While you were missing, he wuz fucking nameless bitches.”

  “I wuzn’t missing! I left a message on his phone.”

  “Which he obviously ignored, like all the principal’s ones.”

  I went still. “How do ya know that?”

  “Principal Sao phoned your dad at work. Since the useless bastard had skived off, I took the call. Sao said he expelled you for assaulting a teacher.”

  “I didn’t assault her.”

  “I know,” he growled low. “It wuz that English teacher, the one I warned to stay away from you. I told your principal what she did, but the bastard didn’t believe me, snapping that I can’t keep accusing teachers whenever it suits me. I never fuckin’ accused that maths teacher of shit! That’s wuz your dumbass father. Now the principal thinks I’m crying wolf. It doesn’t help that there wuz a witness who saw you attack the paedo,” he said, his emphasis making it sound like Clara had set it all up.

  “She’s not a paedo! She my woman. We love each other.”

  He barked out a loud laugh. “You have gotta be fuckin’ kidding me?”

  “No! And you can’t blame her for this. She turned me down more than once, but I wouldn’t stop until she caved.”

  “If she didn’t wanna fuck you, she wouldn’t have caved no matter how hard you pushed. She’s a sick bitch who needs to pay for what she did.”

  “She’s not sick! So, stay the fuck away from her!”

  “No, boy, I ain’t backing off, not on this. She’s using you, Dante. Cos if she really loved you, she wouldn’t have lied ’bout the assault, using this so-called witness to back her paedophile arse up.”

  “She’s not a paedo!”

  Finally losing my shit, I hit out at him. He grabbed my arm and slammed it against the wall, also grabbing the other one as I tried to hit him with that too.

  “Lemme go!” I hollered.

  “Not until you calm the fuck down!”

  “No! I’ll kill you if you touch Clara. She’s mine!”

  “No, she’s her husband’s.”

  “She doesn’t love him, she loves me!”

  “She only loves gettin’ off on your underage cock.”

  “You’re disgusting!”

  “Your woman’s husband didn’t think I wuz the disgusting one.”

  I went still. “What?”

  “I told him, Dante. He knows everything.”

  28

  Clara

  I turned off Te Irirangi Drive, heading for Cockle Bay, stilling mulling over how I was going to break up with Markus. Should I admit to having an affair? I didn’t have to tell him who it was with. But if I was Markus, I would demand to know. No, I couldn’t risk that, couldn’t admit to an affair. I would just say that we’d drifted apart, that we no longer connected, which was true, he just didn’t need to know why.

  I stopped at an intersection, drumming my fingers against the steering wheel, my nerves growing steadily. Markus would probably shout like he did those other times. And he had every right to. Marriage was supposed to be for life, like it had bee
n for his parents up until his father had been killed in the car accident. Like it had been for my parents too, until my mother had died from breast cancer. Though, my father hadn’t been faithful. He’d just cheated later on in life. But unlike him, I wasn’t willing to stay with my spouse until death parted us, and especially not after the day I’d had with Dante.

  A smile pulled at my lips as I resumed driving, the memory of what Dante and I had done together so delicious, so beautiful, so passionate. God! He made me do things that I never thought I would in a million years. For one, breaking and entering, as well as making love on a gang member’s bed. Dante was so wild, so uninhibited, doing whatever he liked. It was a delicious and heart-pounding experience, an adventure every time I went near him. I never knew what he would do next, other than it would push my limits, limits that only he could break through.

  My smile slipped as I drew closer to home, my mind once more returning to Markus.

  And to divorcing him.

  But I had to do it. I couldn’t lead him on anymore, pretending I was at the gym or school while I was with Dante. And I didn’t want to pretend either. I wanted to be with Dante. To live life to its fullest, to wrap myself around him, to savour everything about this amazing boy I loved.

  I turned onto my road, my heartbeat now taking on a life of its own, fear and nervousness playing it like a drum. It picked up even more at the sight of Markus. He was leaving my father’s property, heading into ours. Syn was standing on the porch, watching him disappear through our front door. Syn’s attention moved to my car as I drove by. Instead of waving at me, like he normally did, he stepped back inside his house and closed the door.

  Wondering what that was about, I steered into my driveway and pulled on the handbrake. I leaned back in my seat for a moment, thinking it was strange that Markus was visiting Syn. They hardly knew each other. I frowned, pondering whether... I shook the thought out of my head, knowing it was a ludicrous thought. Markus wouldn’t be having an affair with Syn. He was completely straight, but... I’d thought my father had been straight too. Not only that, Syn was beautiful.

  I shook my head again, knowing I was now conjuring up things. Markus was probably asking him a question, since my father, Syn’s partner, was our landlord. I was also probably being overly sensitive since I was the one having an affair.