by Simone Elise
“Where are you going?” Mum said to his back.
“To change into a fucking t-shirt!” he yelled back at her before slamming the door closed behind him.
Mum was grinning. “And that, kids, is how you get your father to do anything.”
The girls grinned. If Mum was giving lessons, she had just given a great example to the girls on how to get Dad to drop his day.
***
I watched Hannah exit the doctor’s clinic. Why did she look so worried? She wouldn’t even tell me what the appointment was for. I thought it had just been an excuse to get her out of school. But as I saw her expression on her worried face, I knew that wasn’t the case.
She pulled open the car door and got in.
“So, how was it?” I asked, lighting up a cigarette and not acting like I had seen her face before she wiped it clean of an expression.
She didn’t answer.
“What’s that?” I asked, trying to get a look at the piece of paper in her hands. She folded it up and slid it up the sleeve of her hoodie. Again, she was dressed like she was freezing when it was a nice sunny day.
“Nothing. Can we go to school?”
“You’re going to school?” I didn’t believe her. I just assumed she was having the day off.
“Yep.”
“What about having the day off? You shouldn’t go to school if you are sick.”
“It’s just a cold. I’m fine and I have advanced math. Don’t want to miss it.” Hannah was always too smart for her own good.
I looked at her harder; I couldn’t work out if she was lying or telling the truth.
“Stop looking at me and head for the school already.” She buckled in and glanced at me. “Seriously, I’m fine.”
I nodded my head and started the car up. She would tell me if something was wrong. She always did.
Chapter Two
Layla
You would think I'd be used to this. To the moving. I loved him, which was the only reason I put up with it. When Mum first introduced Cyrus into our life, I was terrified. I was ten.
He adopted me when I was eleven. Mum and him never married. But she also adopted his son, Finn, whom we all call Alfie. He is eleven now and his goal in life is to worm his way into my life as much as possible.
This morning, I caught him hiding in my wardrobe. I nearly killed him, considering I had just got out of the shower and only had a towel wrapped around me. Why was he in my wardrobe?
He was looking for my drugs.
Drugs that I don’t have! When he isn’t listening to my calls, hiding in my room, or sneaking into the backseat of the car, he’s playing video games.
My room. I cringed. It was filled with brown boxes at the moment. We seemed to move every five years. Well, Mum and I did. Then we met Cyrus. And Mum fell madly in love with a biker.
Cyrus, when upset, still scared me. Even though I know he would never hurt me, his temper, well, it just gets the best of him some days.
He was president of the Deadly Dozen and the plan was to relocate here. How Cyrus was planning on earning good money here was beyond me. Because the Satan’s Sons mother charter was here and you couldn’t fuck with them.
Cyrus was sitting down with Reaper tonight to work out a profit percentage.
A meeting that should be just between president and president. But I knew Cyrus. He didn’t do numbers.
I walked into the library. This was going to be my escape from home. I always moved into the library of whatever school I was at.
I was moving in between the bookshelves. I liked to be alone when I studied. Not that I had studying to do.
My cheek was stinging from my run-in with mum today. I swear her backhand was as mean as a man’s fist.
I rounded a corner, now at the very back of the library. That’s when I spotted a girl on the ground. Her knees were up to her chest and she was crying into her hands.
Okay. Do I leave? I know I hate people seeing me cry.
Something was telling me to go to her.
I care about people. It was one of my weaknesses. I care what people thought and I care how they felt. So I found myself walking closer to her and not further.
“Are you okay?” I asked softly.
Her head snapped up and I had never seen such mesmerizing blue eyes in my life.
“I’m sorry, am I in your way?” She wiped her cheeks.
“No. Not at all.” I stopped her from getting up and instead found myself sitting next to her. “Guessing your day is going as well as mine.” I smiled at her.
“If that means it sucks, then yes.” She wiped away more tears.
“Layla.” I introduced myself.
“Hannah.” She crossed her legs and looked at me a bit closer. “Why haven’t I seen you around before? The school isn’t that big. I’d remember you if I’d have seen you.”
“New.” And on my first day, I’m hiding out.
“First day?”
“Unfortunately, yes.” I watched her continue to wipe tears away. “So, what has you so upset?”
I didn’t know her. But she was beautiful, so I only assumed it was boy trouble. She looked like the type of girl boys would follow, clinging onto her every word.
“I just got some bad news.” She straightened up. “I just need to harden up.”
“Does this bad news come from a boy? Because I’m telling you, whoever it is isn’t worth your tears.”
She smiled, and it was a really heart-warming smile. “No.” She turned to face me, her eyes hovering on my cheek. “So, did a boy do that to you?”
I cringed. Right, my red cheek. You would think by now it would have calmed down. “No.” I wasn’t lying either. It was Mum. Not a man or a boy. Sometimes I wished it was because at least then I could hate them. But Mum, well, I didn’t hate her for it. If anything, I hated myself for causing it.
“So, how old are you?” Hannah asked, and I was thankful she wasn’t pressuring me more about my cheek.
“Eighteen, you?”
“Sixteen but seventeen at the end of the month.”
“You having a party?”
“My sister wants me to.” Hannah smiled from mentioning her sister. “My dad doesn’t really approve, though.”
“Strict dad?”
“You have no idea,” she gushed, grinning. “Did you have a seventeenth party?”
Last year. If a party classified as Mum and I fighting and me locking myself in the bedroom. Then yeah, I had a party. “Not really a party person.”
“Neither am I. I don’t smoke or drink.” Hannah smiled dimly. “But considering what’s happening to me, I should have.”
I frowned, not understanding what she meant.
“Well, we should go do our makeup.” She picked up her handbag. “I have a red-stained face to cover and you have that cheek to cover.”
I wasn’t even going to bother covering it. Wasn’t like anyone should be looking at me to begin with.
“Come on, Layla. Take it as my first advice as a friend.” Hannah stood up, no longer crying.
Friend. I never had a friend.
“Okay.” I got up and slowly started to follow her. Maybe my first day at this hellhole was going to turn around.
Chapter Three
Tyson
English. I was so bloody bored and it was only five minutes in. I glanced at the clock. It wasn’t even eleven yet. I was hungry. I wanted lunch. But I was going to have to sit through this boring class for another hour and a half before I got my food.
Maybe I could skip out for a bit and get food? Yep, I decided to do that. I was getting up when the door opened and in walked, well, were there any words to describe her?
She had heels on, and my eyes ran up her long legs, her black jeans stopping me from admiring her skin. Why couldn’t she be wearing a dress? Her t-shirt had ridden up, showing off her flat stomach. And then my eyes were glued to her breasts. They were ba
sically bursting from that t-shirt, the fabric splitting at her cleavage.
My eyes slowly moved up her creamy neck. God, how I’d love to kiss it. Women were my weakness. And the lust flooding me right now, well, I hadn’t felt this turned on by a woman before and I was feeling this just by looking at her.
She ran a hand through her black hair and looked nervous for some reason. She was chatting to the teacher. She must be new. She smiled and it was the type of smile that made your knees buckle at the sight of it.
I sat back down and scanned the room. It was full, apart from the seat next to me. No one ever dared to sit next to me. They were either terrified of me or terrified of the club. I was glad for both right now because it meant her perfect body would be sitting next to me in the next few moments.
I glanced back to see her walking toward me.
Her eyes were on the empty seat. I don’t think she had even glanced at me at this point.
I watched her drag the seat out and sit down, dumping her books on the table. She pulled her black hair to the side and opened her book. Did she even realize she was sitting next to someone?
She frowned, looking closer at the board. I assumed the teacher had told her what we were doing. I hadn’t really paid much attention. Something about reviewing the chapter for a quiz.
How was I going to make conversation with her? She flipped her textbook open and reached into her handbag. Whatever she was looking for she wasn’t finding it. She picked up her bag and started searching through it.
What was she looking for?
She tucked her hair behind her ear. I noticed her bar piercing in her ear.
She didn’t seem like the type of girl to have piercings. I wondered if she had any more. Suddenly my body jumped at the challenge of finding out.
“Hey, do you have a pen?” She turned and looked at me for the first time, and I was lost in her chocolate eyes. They were a deep chocolate; sexy, seductive and they totally had me.
I just handed her my pen.
“Thanks.” She took it from me, her long painted nails brushing my skin. What I would do to have those nails digging into my back as I fucked her.
Lust was flooding my blood quicker than anything else.
She frowned. “What are you writing with?”
I snapped my eyes off her. Right, I had just given her my pen. “Um, I’m reading.” Lame excuse Wilson.
“Don’t you take notes?”
“Nope.” I took my eyes off her completely and looked at my open textbook. Was I even on the right chapter?
I saw her nod her head briefly out of the corner of my eye.
Okay, this sucked. I couldn’t look at her now. I glared into my open textbook. Great. Now I had to stare at this for the next hour and more.
“I’m really sorry to annoy you, but is it chapter seventeen or chapter eleven? It looks the same on the board,” she asked, which gave me an excuse to look at her.
She was mesmerizing. She slowly arched her eyebrows at me as I just stared at her. Right. She asked a question.
“Um, it’s…” I glanced down at my textbook and hoped I had the right chapter. “…eleven.”
“His writing is really bad then.” She tucked her hair behind her ear, showing off her industrial piercing again.
“Nice piercing.”
She turned to look back at me. “Thanks.” She glanced at my neck. “Nice tattoo.”
My one percent tattoo. I doubt she knew what it meant. “Thanks.”
Her eyes hovered for a bit longer on it, and I bet she was trying to work out what it meant. Then she looked me in the eye, and I swear she was looking at me like she knew what my tattoo meant.
She said something under her breath and went back to looking at her textbook.
I wanted to have a conversation with her. “So, what’s your name?” Might as well start with the basics.
“Layla.” She glanced at me. “You?”
“Tyson.”
She turned with a slight smile on her face. “You wouldn’t have a sister, would you?” Her eyes were locked with mine. She was staring into my eyes like she knew me.
“Um, two.” And I found it really odd that she would assume I had one. I didn’t walk around with a sign around my neck saying I had two sisters.
“Hannah?”
“You know my sister?” How did Hannah meet her before me? In fact, how did she meet Hannah? “And how did you know she was related to me?”
Her smirk just got a little bit bigger. “Your eyes give you two away.” She frowned for a second. “Two?”
“Hannah forget to mention she has a twin?”
She smiled. “Two Hannahs, you are lucky.”
I scoffed. “They are nothing alike.” I was not lucky whatsoever. Eve torturing me today came to mind.
Hannah and Eve were opposites. Sure they looked identical, but that was it. Eve lived up to her nickname of Naughty. And Hannah lived up to her nickname of Nice.
She looked back at the textbook with a smile on her face. How well did she know Hannah? Had she just avoided my attention and been here since the start of term and just transferred classes or something?
“So, when did you start?” I asked, really interested in her answer.
“What?” She kept her eyes on the textbook.
“Here at school?”
She glanced up, still with a smile. “First day.” And she looked back at the textbook. “I keep getting lost.”
I stopped leaning back on my chair and straightened. “What’s your timetable look like?”
“Um, I still don’t know it very well. Free before this and next is lunch. Which I can’t wait for cause I’m starving.” She snuck a glance at me. “What’s with the look?”
I was looking at her and was impressed. A woman that eats. That was rare. I thought my sisters and mum were the only women that ate properly. No girl I had ever been with ate.
“Want to escape for food?” My leg brushed hers as I moved to face her.
“I don’t want to pull you from your reading.” Her eyes went to my open textbook.
I wasn’t even fucking reading. “Do you eat meat?”
She nodded her head.
“Hamburger cart around the corner does the best hot dogs.” And I was craving food. I had wanted to escape for food before she showed up. Getting her to come with me was just me being selfish. “You coming?” I asked, getting up.
Food. That was exactly what I needed. And her company.
“What about the teacher?” she asked, not packing up her stuff.
“Trust me, if you walk out with me, he won’t question it.” I could walk out whenever I felt like it without being questioned. First year here I smashed up a teacher’s car because they questioned my doctor’s letter. Which had been real.
That got me on charges. I’d love to say they were my first lot of charges but they weren’t. My record started when I was seven for defacing a vehicle. And it wasn’t my teacher’s.
“Okay.” She gathered up her things, stuffing them in her bag.
She glanced at the teacher as we walked out. But, like expected, he didn’t say a word.
Chapter Four
Layla
The hum of television and Alfie’s latest video game was in my one ear while my other ear was having metal blasted into it from my headphones. I was trying my best to work on the homework I had been given. I was behind because it was already halfway through the semester.
“Layla?”
Cyrus. I hadn’t seen him today. He had been in the garage when I got home. I swear he was avoiding the inside because Mum was still unpacking.
“Yeah, Dad?” I called back, not taking my eyes off the math work I was doing.
“Can you come outside for a bit?” He was speaking from the back door. I got up, slipping my heels back on. What did he want?
I hadn’t gotten in trouble at school. I was going to do my best at school, like
they wanted. I had to. They were expecting it.
I walked out the back door and saw the garage door open. Cyrus always lived in his garage. It only made sense he was moving into his new one.
I frowned while walking and realized Cyrus wasn’t by himself. I took in the two rather large guys… nah, screw that, they weren’t rather large, they were fucking huge! Especially the one to Cyrus’s right. He was standing looking dominant in the unpacked garage.
I glanced at the patch on his chest. ‘President’ was proudly emblazoned on his chest and under that was his mother charter. Looks like I was looking at the Reaper.
“This is Reaper and Brad.” Cyrus introduced us. “And this is my daughter, Layla.”
I stood awkwardly in the doorway. I didn’t want to get an inch closer to them. They looked like they could snap my neck with the least bit of effort.
“Thought you only had a son?” Reaper looked at Cyrus.
“I’m Dad’s adoptive daughter,” I answered his question.
“So much for your speech on never getting tied down.” Reaper looked at Cyrus who shrugged his shoulders. Reaper then looked at me. “So, start explaining why I am having a conversation with you?” He said that like he would snap my neck for wasting his time.
“I don’t know.” I looked at Cyrus for answers.
“Talking figures, Layla.” Cyrus said that as if it should answer all my questions. My mind slowly clicked over what he said. I repeated it in my head.
My mind slowly ticked. “You’re talking percentages.” I clicked together what he was asking me. “What’s the question?”
Cyrus didn’t do numbers. Cyrus had Dyslexia. He didn’t like people knowing. So he just handed anything to do with numbers and writing to me.
At the age of eighteen, I was laundering the club’s money.
“So, what are they offering?” I asked Cyrus.
“You pay us twenty-five percent,” Reaper answered my question, sounding as rude and as unfriendly as he looked.
I scoffed. “That’s rich, what is your second offer?” Twenty-five percent of the deadly dozen’s income was rude! Like him! Rude!
“No second offer. You are in my town. My rules,” Reaper coldly reminded me of the facts.
