Ghetto

by M L Sparrow

  “Who’s the dad?” someone hollers

  “The dad is as yet unknown,” I answer, “however, it isn’t a stretch to assume he’s from the same social circles. Therefore, by rights, that man up there,” I gesture to Sin, who’s actually looking quite bored now, leaning his head back against the back of the chair, “is heir to a vast fortune and, if circumstances were different, could once have been the heir to not one, but two thrones.” The last is stretching it a little, since Emilie’s family is only distantly related to past royalty, but the crowd are lapping it up. “Sin is a good, kind, decent man with a sense of integrity that most men nowadays lack, despite his upbringing. Does he deserve to be executed for a crime that was not his fault in the first place?” My voice rises as I speak the words, so as to be heard over the roar of the crowd.

  Encouraged, I whip around to face my dad, our gazes locking as I stab a finger in Emilie’s direction. “If you truly want a scapegoat for this, I suggest you punish the person responsible.”

  Clearing his throat, my dad steps up beside me, red faced and sweating. People continue to shout as he tries to speak and it takes him several tries before they quiet down enough for him to be heard. Once they do, he coughs into his fist, wipes the sweat from his forehead and begins. “Given the… er… unusual circumstances, I believe a certain amount of leniency must be shown, therefore, I revoke this execution on the terms that he is issued with a Brand before his release.”

  “And he’ll be released from the Ghetto?” I clarify loudly.

  By now his cheeks are red with anger as he grits out unwillingly, “Yes.”

  “As will anyone else innocent of committing a crime?”

  “That is something I’ll have to discuss with parliament.”

  “Not good enough.” I shake my head, as the crowd backs me up.

  My dads’ jaw works for a minute, teeth grinding, however, the protests of the masses makes his decision for him. His time in power is over, by now he realizes that, and he wants to make the short time he has left as painless and easy as possible. Finally, he answers, “Fine, I will put a team together to go through our records and review cases. Anyone found to be completely innocent will be pardoned.”

  The sound of the crowd cheering recedes into the background as a sense of triumph washes over me. I can’t hold back my smile any longer, but it’s quickly wiped from my face as my dad walks over to me.

  “I can’t believe you would embarrass me like that,” he hisses, careful to keep his back to the crowd and the cameras trained on him.

  “If you’d listened to me in the first place none of this would have been necessary,” I tell him sadly, “I didn’t set out to embarrass you, Dad, but you gave me no choice.”

  The look he gives me makes me feel like a little girl being scolded and something inside me shivers. I guess parental disapproval hurts no matter how old you get. However, I refuse to back down and after a moment he walks away, his personal bodyguards closing around him as he descends the steps, pushing their way through the celebrating crowd. For a moment it feels like there’s a rock sitting heavily in my stomach, but then I glance up at the screen and see the cannula being removed from Sin’s arm. As I leave the stage, I wonder if my mum would have been proud.

  I’m heading towards the car Colt called to take us to the police station when someone grabs my arms, nails biting briefly into my skin. Swinging around, I’m surprised to see Emilie. I’ve said all I have to say, so I wait for her to speak.

  “I was only young,” she says stiffly after a minute.

  The half-hearted excuse makes my blood boil, but instead of giving into the urge to slap her, I reply coolly, “How old do you have to be to know the difference between right and wrong?” With that, I turn and walk away, leaving her there to stew. Climbing into the car, I glance over at Colt who sits waiting for me.

  “You handled that well,” he comments.

  “Thanks.”

  “I’m not just talking about just now, with Emilie, I’m talking about everything. You had the crowd eating out of the palm of your hand by the end of your speech, it was very eloquent and moving.”

  Slightly embarrassed, I can feel my cheeks heating as I shift uncomfortably, repeating, “Thanks.”

  “Have you ever considered going into politics?”

  “Er… not really.” I frown at my own reflection in the window as the car rolls forward. “In my experience most politicians are only out for money and status. The ones who actually want to change the world never seem to get anywhere.”

  Shrugging, Colt leans back against the seat, making himself comfortable. “In many cases, yes. But there are some people who do genuine good.”

  “Maybe so, but it’s still not a field I want to get into.”

  “What would you prefer to do?”

  “Engineering perhaps, or something to do with computers. That’s what I’m good at. But I’m not really thinking about that at the moment, I just want to get Sin out of jail before something happens to change my dads’ mind.”

  “Don’t worry about that. We’ll be at the station any minute.”

  True to his word, Colt is opening the door for me less than ten minutes later and together we walk into the station. Unlike this morning, the atmosphere inside is subdued. I’m so anxious to see Sin now that I’m so close that I barely hear whatever Colt says to the portly older man at the desk, however, without question we’re led down to the cells, where the same guard from this morning is still stationed. He gapes openly at me as we walk towards him, but quickly jumps to attention when Colt snaps, “Why is he still locked up? He’s no longer a prisoner.”

  “We’re waiting on a Brander, Sir,” Jenkins defends. “Our orders were that he’s not to be released until he’s been Branded.”

  “Is he allowed visitors at least?” Colt asks irritably.

  Jenkins swallows visibly; he clearly wants to say no, but instead he nods his head stiffly and goes to open the cell door. I go to enter first and as I pass he says sourly, “You’re not really writing a dissertation, are you?”

  I shake my head, feeling slightly guilty for tricking him. However, that feeling quickly disappears under an avalanche of pure joy as I step into the cell and see Sin, free and unrestrained, waiting for me.

  “I’m guessin’ I got you to thank for not bein’ dead.”

  “You don’t need to thank me.”

  “You saved my life,” he says gruffly, coming forward to drag me into his arms. He holds me tight and I return the embrace. “Thank you,” he whispers into my hair, his stubble rough against my cheek as he lowers his head to kiss my lips, one hand sliding up my back to grip my nape.

  Suddenly, he stiffens, head lifting to look behind me. The hand at the back of my neck drops away and he uses the other arm to pull me around and tuck me protectively into his side. Colt stands in the doorway. Noting Sin’s defensive posture, I hurry to reassure him, lifting a hand to press against his chest as I make the introductions. Even after they’ve shaken hands, Sin remains tense and watchful, but that probably has something to do with the way Colt studies him, as if he’s trying to find similarities between him and his son, despite what the DNA test said. I wonder if he finds any.

  We’re standing in tense silence when a man wearing a blue uniform walks in carrying a handheld scanner in one hand and a Tab in the other. He’s followed by Jenkins, who stands in the doorway with his arms crossed over his chest.

  “Please, take a seat,” the Brander instructs, looking slightly nervous as he fiddles with the machine in his hands. Sin just stares at him impassively.

  Giving him a little shove, I hiss, “Don’t be difficult.” He turns that hard, unreadable look on me for a second, but I just stare right back; he no longer scares me. Another push and he goes to sit on the edge of the bed.

  “A few questions first,” the man says. “Full name?” I wince as Sin answers with his first name only; the man enters it into the Tab, then looks at him expectantly, clearly waitin
g for more.

  I’m about to say that there isn’t one, when Colt speaks up. “It’s Mason.” Both Sin and I stare at him, but neither of us deny it as the man types it in.

  Sidling over to the older man, I ask quietly so as not to be overheard, “I thought you didn’t believe Sin was your grandson?”

  “DNA tests are conclusive, but the boy still needs a name.”

  Slightly disappointed by that answer, I nod and make my way back over to Sin, just as the man asks for his date of birth. Sitting next to him on the low bed, I slide my hand into his as I answer the month and year for him, adding at the end, “I don’t know the exact date, though.”

  “Er, okay,” the man looks confused, “shall I just put the first then?” He looks to me for the answer, but I glance at Sin. It’s his birthday, after all.

  He just shrugs. “Whatever.”

  After all the necessary things have been logged in, another blood sample taken, high-quality photos snapped of his eyes and ears – for identification purposes – and fingerprints taken, the man begins fiddling with the scanner lookalike, entering the numbers and letters that are going to be permanently etched into Sins’ skin. “This is the laser,” he explains quickly as he works. “When you get a tattoo it only penetrates the first few layers of skin, however, this burns all the way down to the bone, so it is truly permanent. The process is painful but it will only take a second.”

  Sin nods silently and squeezes my hand briefly. I can almost hear him thinking, At least it’s not a needle. I squeeze back, shifting closer to him so that our legs touch from hip to ankle.

  “Right arm, please.”

  Letting go of my hand, he stretches out his arm and the man hovers the laser a couple of inches above his forearm, lining it up. A red light prints the code on his arm and the Brander moves it a little to the left. “Perfect,” he mutters beneath his breath. A second later, Sins’ entire body jerks and he leaps to his feet, holding his arm.

  “Fuckin’ hell!” he swears loudly, eying the man accusingly as he quickly backs away beneath that angry glower. “That bloody hurt.” His gaze swings over to me as he demands, “They do that to babies?”

  “It doesn’t damage them,” the Brander defends, though he looks slightly scared as he glances at the policeman in the doorway for reassurance, “and the pain is fleeting. They don’t remember it.”

  Shaking his arm, Sin continues to glare at the other man as he quickly gathers his equipment, but as the man leaves he turns his arm to look at his newly acquired Brand, tracing his fingers over the letters. Standing up, I walk over to him.

  He glances up at me. “Tell me what it says.”

  “SM/1/0/010599.”

  “It feels weird,” he admits after a second.

  I frown. “Does it still hurt?”

  “No, it’s just…” he trails off, glancing over at Colt who tactfully turns his back. Lowering his voice, he leans down to murmur in my ear, “All my life I’ve wished I had one, now I do.”

  “Does it feel as good as you thought it would?”

  “It feels like I belong,” he answers after a moment’s consideration.

  Grinning, I hug him. “Come on, let’s get out of here. There’s somewhere you need to be.”

  Chapter 26

  We walk out of the police station with all eyes on us. A crowd of News reporters swarm us like a plague of locust as soon as we step out of the door. Camera’s flash and people yell questions. I’m used to this, but usually I have a battalion of my dads’ bodyguards and Ludo to keep me safe as we push through the hordes. Unconsciously, I find myself inching towards Sin and his arm lifts to wrap around my shoulders.

  “Just ignore them and keep walking,” Colt advises, “Sunny already gave them a good story.”

  We both agree, but it’s easier said than done as they surround us, throwing out inflammatory questions in the hopes of getting a rise out of one of us. Sins’ body is taunt and his fists clenched, so I keep a firm grip on his arm in the hopes of preventing him from decking anyone. I know his first instinct in a situation like this is to fight and I can’t blame him, I want to knee a couple of the reporters in the privates myself, however, getting into a fight outside the police station on his first day as a free man isn’t going to do him any favours.

  “Sunny, do you love him?” someone shouts out. That’s not a question I’d mind answering, but to me the answer seems fairly obvious; not many people would risk everything for someone they didn’t love.

  “How do you feel about the likelihood of your dad being voted out of power?” That one makes me flinch, especially when someone else follows up with, “Do you think your dad will forgive you for your betrayal?” I glance up at Sin to find him watching me with his brows drawn and steel eyes intense. I smile faintly to reassure him that I’m okay and he dips his head to kiss my forehead. Camera’s click furious, the lights blinding.

  Someone gets too close, the lens of his camera right in our faces and Sin shoves him back with a snarl. “Back off.” That starts a whole new round of questions.

  “Sin are you violent?”

  “Sunny, has he ever hurt you?”

  “Why rescue a man who hurts you?” This idiot happens to be standing just to Sins’ right as we push past and before the last syllable has even cleared his lips, Sin has him by the collar.

  “I only hurt dickheads.” He tries to free his arm from my grip, to make good on his words, but I cling on tenaciously.

  “Sin, don’t!” I shout, trying to yank him back.

  “Need a hand?” a voice behind me asks, before big hands reach out and drag Sin away. Another pair of hands joins the first and I duck out of the way to avoid being elbowed by accident.

  “They got him,” a familiar female voice says close to my ear and I swing around to see Maya beside me. It’s only then that I realize the two men shoving Sin towards the car waiting by the curb are none other than Ben and Kit. Clasping my hand, Maya begins pulling me along after them.

  Having already reached the car, Colt gets in first and the men push Sin in after him, though he’s no longer struggling. They squeeze in behind him and I’m wondering how Maya and I are going to fit in, but I don’t have to wonder for long because Maya pushes me forward. Inside the car, I see that someone, probably Colt, has pressed the button to slide the front seats forward, effectively making another two seats. Sin is sat in one and he grabs my hand and pulls me onto his lap as Maya scrambles into the only free space left. As soon as the door is pulled shut, the car pulls out onto the road. It’s followed by several desperate photographers still trying to get a good shot as they press against the windows, but they drop away as we head down the road.

  “What are you guys doing here?” I ask, glancing back and forth between the three of them.

  “We came to watch the speech, then wanted to see Sin released, then we saw the crowds and thought we’d come help,” Maya babbles, a big grin on her face.

  “You could’a been caught,” Sin snaps and her smile slips.

  “Yeah, well, we figured Sunny could talk us out’a any trouble,” Kit answers, nudging me with his foot.

  “You still need to be careful,” I caution, “you’re not free yet and my dad will be looking for any opportunity to renegade on his promise.”

  “I swear, from now on we’ll stay in the Ghetto until we get the all-clear,” Maya promises with a mischievous grin, batting her long, dark eyelashes at Sin as she asks, “You’re not too mad at us, are you Sin?”

  “Hey, woman, stop flirtin’. Sin had his chance, you’re mine now.”

  I glance over at Ben in surprise, not because of what he just said, but because I’ve never seen a playful side of him before. Despite the fact that there are still issues to be resolved, everyone in the car is in high spirits, I can even feel Sin smiling against my shoulder as his arms constrict around my waist. Glancing around, I bask in the warmth of everyone’s happiness, my gaze settling on Colt, who is watching us interact with silent curios
ity.

  “Where are we goin’?” Sin asks after a couple of minutes, watching out of the window with a frown as the buildings go by.

  “Back to my house,” Colt replies, “I’ve already taken the liberty of listing it as your place of residence for the time being. Sunny, I assume you’ll be staying too? And your friends are welcome to come, I can have some more rooms prepared.”

  “Why would you do that?” Sin asks suspiciously.

  Colt stares back at him evenly. “I figure it’s time someone gave you a helping hand.”

  “I don’t need your charity.”

  “Who said anything about charity? The room comes as part of a package deal, you can’t have one without the other. There’s a job going at one of my shipping yards, it’s hard, menial work, but there are plenty of chances to work your way up the ladder if you’re ambitious.”

  Kit whistles between his teeth, “Sweet deal, bro.”

  The look on Sins’ face isn’t quite so convinced, but Colt just shrugs casually. “Give it some thought and let me know.”

  “Colt that’s a really nice offer and I’m sure Sin will accept, but before that we need to get back to the Ghetto before a war breaks out.”

  “The scouts’ should’a reported back by now, so it’s all good,” Kit says.

  “Do you really trust those guys not to do anything stupid?”

  “She’s right, Lloyd’s really eager to start playin’ with them guns,” Ben agrees.

  “Is Lloyd the cranky old guy?” I ask, glancing at Maya, who nods.

  “Why’s Lloyd got a say?” Sin demands, shifting in the seat.

  “He pushed his way back in once you were gone.”

  “Why’d you let that happen?”

  “Yo, don’t shout at me! I did my best, you’re the one who got yourself caught chasin’ a girl.”

  “Hey!” both Maya and I cry indignantly and she reaches over to slap his thigh, saying, “It was romantic! You’d do the same for me. Or at least you better. I swear if you don’t I’ll bust your balls.”

  “Jeez, Maya, I take it back, don’t bite my head off. I just meant that he’s the leader and he weren’t around to hold things together.”