by Dez Burke
I checked my camera after. The shots were great. Like I said, I liked gashes. These little wounds got me my camera. One day, hopefully before my dad killed me, they could earn me my freedom.
****
It was very easy to think the world was a piece of shit when you had a life like mine. My mom did her best to protect me from James. He hated me for not being the son he had always wanted. When she gave birth to me, Madeline told James he had a baby boy. Since he was drunk that time and the blanket I was bundled up in hid the fact that I didn’t have a weenie, James swallowed it. By the time he realized he had been fooled, I was already home and Madeline threatened to kill herself if something happened to me. Since that meant there would be no one to look after him, James held off from killing me. But he made sure I paid for being a girl the moment I was old enough to understand his orders. By age seven, I was an expert pickpocket and by age ten, I could pretty much copy anyone’s signature. No surprise there since he told me he’d pull my nails out if he ever got caught for forgery.
But then Madeline died three years ago and everything changed.
I was scared he’d make me his personal punching bag, but that was apparently too easy. You could anticipate a punch, and you’d know which punches would kill you.
James wanted me terrified. He wanted me not knowing whether I’d live or die the next second. That was when the stunts started. We’d practice a few times a week and then make a presentation for his biker pals. He always earned a couple of hundreds from those stunts. Good for him. Even at the risk of having myself punched, I’d always remind James of how much money he’d make from the stunts, just so he’d be sober while doing it. I never asked for a share. I just wanted to live another day.
So yeah, life was pretty shitty. But I liked to pretend it wasn’t. Every time we finished with a stunt, I’d slip out of the house the first chance I got. Then I’d go around our equally shitty small town. I’d look for something pretty, something happy, or something good to take pictures of. Something to remind me that life wasn’t so shitty after all.
****
An hour had passed before I heard it, a sound that I almost wanted to pretend I didn’t hear. Someone crying like he was about to die. I knew that sound. I used to cry like that, too.
I hurried towards the sound. Darkness surrounded me, but I had no problems finding my way. I knew every inch of my town and the empty land that surrounded it.
My heart beat faster even as I struggled not to make a noise. The crying sound came from the ghost town near our place, a 19th century sugar plantation that once belonged to a slave master. The slave quarters were gone now, but the dead spirits?
I crossed myself as I got nearer. Dear God. If this is the day I’m destined to see a ghost – please make it quick, too. So quick I wouldn’t even know I had seen one. That quick. I know you can do it. You’re GOD. And yes, God, I’m flattering you. It’s working, isn’t it?
I liked babbling to God in my mind. It kept me sane, especially in those seconds when I didn’t really know if I would live. When I talked to God, everything would be silent, so silent even the sound of a big badass bike flying an inch over my sadly high-bridged nose would be muted.
The man was crying more loudly now, more desperately. It was the only sound that penetrated the night’s stillness. I wondered absently if James had already woken from his drunken stupor. If he did, was he looking for me? If he realized I was gone, would he be so pissed we’d have to do another round of practice when I got back home?
The crying was even worse now. I quickened my steps, one hand on my camera, another on my pepper spray. If he died before I got to him, I could take a photo of his killer. If he was still alive, then I’d...try to save him. It was a funny thought that didn’t really make me laugh. But it was a joke. I couldn’t even save myself and yet here I was, contemplating saving another person’s life. What a joke.
The half-crumbling walls surrounding the plantation were about five feet tall. Easy enough to scale and in seconds I was over it, landing quietly in a crouch. Leaves from an overhead branch were in the way, and I carefully pushed it away as I positioned myself. I lifted my camera, peered through the lens, and zoomed in.
My breath caught at the sight of a man on his knees. He seemed to be in his mid-twenties, his white shirt stained with dirt, like he had been rolling all over the ground in it. His jeans also had a stain. I bit my lip when I realized what that stain on his crotch was.
He was surrounded by boys – just boys my age. They were well-dressed and had ‘rich spoiled brats’ written all over them. Dangerously spoiled. They didn’t seem to be American – their skins were too dark. Maybe Mediterranean. They also looked like they were out of it, maybe a combination of booze and drugs.
I inched closer to hear what they were saying, crawling nearly flat on the ground to avoid being detected. When I was close enough to hear them, I hid behind a rainwater well and listened. They seemed to be taunting the man about playing nanny to a bastard, and one of the boys actually spit on the man as he said the word.
“Consider this as a gift from the true heir of Andreadis,” another boy said as he slowly pulled out a gun.
My heart slammed against my chest in fear. What should I do now? Fat luck if my pepper spray could do anything against that.
The boy took aim.
I prepared to scream. A distraction was all I could give him. I’d scream, tell them the police was coming, then hope they’d be fooled while I ran for my life.
When he cocked his gun, I opened my mouth and screamed.
The sound died unheard.
An enormous black bike had come out of nowhere, the rumble of its engine deafening to my confused mind. For a moment, it was like I was thirteen again, and James was telling me for the first time to lie on the ground. I’m going to drive over you, and you’re going to hope I don’t stop while I’m on top of your little body.
Gunfire broke out in the air, and I emerged from my nightmare with a gasp. You’re okay, you’re okay. I said the words over and over, reminding myself that I had survived James’ stunts 266 times now.
The rider had flown over the man kneeling on the ground. As he and his bike soared in the air, he held the handlebar with one hand while his other hand revealed a gun.
Bang! Bang! Bang! Each shot landed an inch away from the boys’ feet, forcing them to skip and scream like those high-kicking dancers I saw on TV who kept throwing their skirts up.
The bike landed right in front of the man. He was still alive, but I wasn’t surprised when he slowly fell to the ground, passing out. My hand went to my throat. I felt like I wanted to pass out, too.
The rider got off his bike, the gun still aimed at the boys. With his helmet still on, I couldn’t tell how old he was. But what I did know was that he was tall – the tallest man I had ever seen. His body cut a lean figure in his black leather jacket and jeans, but I would bet my life every inch of his body was packed with muscles.
He gave off mean vibes, but somehow he didn’t terrify me at all. His mean was a good kind of mean. I’d-punch-you-for-shouting-at-an-old-woman kind of mean.
“Were you saying something about me?” Bang. Bang. Bang. One shot at each boy, the bullet landing in the space between their legs. One of them started to cry. Another peed himself. The last one dropped his gun and threw his hands up.
“Your brother told us to do it!” the boy with the gun blubbered.
“Didn’t mean you had to follow him.” Bang. Bang. Bang. “I don’t give a fuck about being an heir to the Andreadis fortune, and you can tell that to my dear older brother.”
His voice hardened. “What I do care about is when you bring your shit into my territory. Every inch of land here belongs to Afxisi. You harm any of our people and we take it very personally. Enough to kill. So this will be your only warning. Go home to Greece and don’t ever think of coming back. If I ever see any of your faces again, you won’t have a second chance of coming out alive. Do you fucking
understand me?”
None of the boys spoke.
Bang. Bang. Bang.
“I didn’t hear you say yes. Did you fucking understand me?”
Yes. Yes, sir. Yes. They started sobbing the words out.
The rider started reloading his gun. “One last thing, too. Tell my brother that if he tries this kind of stunt one more time, I’ll come after him and he won’t be able to hide behind his mama’s skirts when I do. Understand?”
They couldn’t say yes fast enough this time.
“Now go.” He remained standing there, a lone figure in black, his gaze trained on the boys who hurried into their cars and drove off.
A moment later, a dozen or so bikes roared into the scene. Each and every one of its riders radiated power and authority. Just looking at them made me swallow. These guys were the real thing, and their strength made me sick even though I knew they weren’t the bad guys. They were nothing like my dad—-
Oh my God, James!
James could be awake now!
“You didn’t need backup at all,” one of them was saying as he clapped his hand on the rider’s back.
The rider who had scared the boys away took his helmet off.
Instinctively, I fumbled for my camera. Click.
And then I turned away and ran.
By the time I climbed back into my room, my heart was beating so fast it was a miracle it hadn’t cracked a hole in my chest.
The sight of the broken hinges on my door made me want to throw up, but that would be a waste of time. Swallowing back the bile trying to rise in my throat, I hurriedly pushed my bedside table aside. One of the floorboards was loose, and I hid my SLR under it before pushing the table back into place.
After that, it was time to face the music.
“Dad?” I hated how my voice shook as I called out for him upon reaching the foot of the stairs.
Smash.
He answered me with a fist to my face, so hard that I hit the wall next to me with a loud thud. I bit my lip as he dragged me by the hair towards the garage. He threw me on the floor. “Where have you been, you spoiled piece of shit?”
He didn’t wait for me to answer. It wasn’t like I could anyway. He was kicking me everywhere, the pain of every kick making it impossible for me to speak.
When he stopped, I managed to crack one swollen eye open.
Oh God, he was getting on his bike.
Flat. Flat. I had to be flat.
Relax. Relax.
Ssssh. Think of...
Oh God, I wanted to close my eyes and cry.
But I couldn’t. That would mean giving up. That would mean James winning.
I had to survive.
Flat. I had to be flat. Relax. I had to relax. And think...I needed to think of that biker who saved the man. He was proof that there was good in the world. That life couldn’t be shitty forever.
So close now. The motorcycle’s rumble was getting louder and louder.
Sssh. Think. Dream.
That man on the bike. He’d save me too if he knew I was in trouble. I knew he would.
So for now I had to survive.
Flat. Relax. Eyes open. Sssh. Don’t breathe. Don’t make a sound.
SWISH.
Chapter One
Two years later
Girls started to fan themselves as the president of Afxisi walked past them, flanked by his officers on each side. Just looking at Helios Andreadis was enough to have the girls cry his name out. How badly they ached to touch him. But they didn’t. No one touched the president without his permission. It was one of his many infamous rules.
At nearly six foot seven, Helios Andreadis towered over everyone in his club. Aptly named after the sun god, Helios did look like one, with his long golden hair and eyes nearly the same color.
Dressed plainly in a baseball shirt and jeans, he should have looked like an ordinary fourth-year student of Christopoulos University. But instead, Helios stood out like a pagan god amidst mere mortals, and everyone wanted to worship him.
“I conducted a survey yesterday,” the club’s vice president, Kellion Argyros, murmured in Greek. His green eyes flashed with amusement as he explained, “98.6% of this year’s female applicants were after the position of the president’s bedmate. It’s up by three percent from last year.”
“Congratulations, President,” the club’s secretary, Yuri Athanas, deadpanned, also in the same language. “It is a commendable feat, especially when considering your attempt to alienate the school’s female student population.”
“Fuck off.” These words were, on the other hand, spoken in accented English. The girls who heard him sighed. If only that one had ended with a ‘you’ and was addressed to them.
Kellion smirked, but his voice was serious when he asked, “Have you heard from Andreus?”
Helios switched to his native language at his vice president’s question. “No. Not yet.” The delayed return of the club’s treasurer brought a hard look to his face. A smarter one would have known it represented danger. But the girls around him weren’t that smart. Seeing that look on Helios’ face only made them imagine being fucked by the president. Hard. Harder than they had ever been fucked.
“Shall we change our plans?” Yuri asked as they came to a stop in front of the steel gates of their club’s headquarters.
After a moment, Helios replied, “No. I don’t want to act preemptively and risk bringing a war into our territory.”
Kellion raised a brow. “We continue pretending then?”
A green light flashed above the gate just before it slowly rolled up. The girls started to scream. The day they had long been waiting for had finally arrived – a chance to be a part of Afxisi, even if it meant year-long servitude.
All the girls cared about was being part of a club that the American media had adoringly dubbed as Heart Racers, mostly because the club’s real name was impossible to pronounce. All they saw were college heartthrobs with big bikes and even bigger bank accounts.
None of them saw the truth. None of them saw past the good looks, the wealth, and the exciting and sometimes dangerous lifestyles the club’s members were known for.
And that was exactly how the club wanted it.
Helios answered Kellion’s question simply by turning around to face the crowd, a cold smile touching his lips. “Let the auditions begin.”
****
MJ Cartwright burst out of the school building’s back doors with a gasp. Checking her watch, she saw that she still had about ten minutes before club auditions officially started. She was not much of a runner. Death-defying stunts were more her forte. But stuff that were more a test of stamina than strength? She was a total loser at it. Back when she was in high school, MJ would watch the cheerleading squad run laps around the football field in their teensy weensy uniforms without breaking a sweat. She had once tried to do the same and nearly expired from heat stroke and dehydration after just five minutes.
She had never tried to run after that, but today she was going to make an exception. She had been at the dean’s office, waiting for her class schedule to be printed out, when she heard girls talking about Club Day. It was going to be a bloodbath, the girls had said. That one clinched it for her. MJ snuck out five minutes before her first class officially ended, determined to be one of the early birds for the audition.
By the time MJ spied the distinct red roof of the club’s headquarters, she was busy trying to catch her breath. Just a few more feet, she told herself. She would make it.
Or so she thought, until she realized that the club’s automated steel gate had started to lower.
“WAIT!” MJ ran as fast as she could and found herself bending back almost to her waist to slide past the gate. Behind her, the gate slammed down hard on the ground just as she skidded to a stop, landing on her knees like Michael Jackson finishing one of his dance moves.
Sheer relief had her eyes falling close even as someone started clapping his hands.
When she open
ed her eyes, MJ expected to see sneering girls who probably thought she was being too full of herself, applying for a spot in the university’s most popular club.
But what she saw was worse.
There were no girls, no bloodbath, no anything.
All she saw were three pairs of eyes looking down at her, and one of them belonged to him.
My name is MJ Cartwright. I’ve been wanting to meet you for two long years. You wouldn’t believe what I had to do just to be here, studying in the same school, just so I could be near you. But seeing you – just seeing you has made everything worth it.
That was what she had intended to say to the man whose face she had memorized, the man whose every photo on the Internet she had saved in her hard drive and backed up in Dropbox.
Meeting Helios Andreadis was a distant hope she had desperately clung to when she had nothing to hope for. This moment was all she had lived for, and in her dreams, serendipity would work its magic on the two of them. Their gazes would meet, their hearts would speak, and it would be a happy-ever-after.
But in reality...
“Ahh...gaaah...errr...uuurgh...”
At the garble that came out of her mouth, Helios Andreadis raised one eyebrow, an odd look on his gorgeous face. That look didn’t say, ‘Who’s this beautiful girl?’ No, that look on his heartbreakingly perfect face meant something more like ‘Should I call the police before this creature attacks me?’
Inside her mind, MJ knelt down and prayed.
Dear God. Can’t you be like Morgan Freeman this once and rewind my life? I just want to start all over again and let him know I at least speak English. Please?
Chapter Two
As the silence inside the room lengthened, Helios found his friends slowly turning to him in askance. Kellion’s eyes were gleaming with amusement. Yuri’s face was inscrutable. But it was obvious both were of the same mind. He was the president. It was up to him to decide what to do.
