The hardest part was telling my parents. My father came every Thursday to pay maintenance. I had one more year before it would legally stop. Only they had an arrangement that while I was still in college, he would continue to give Mum money for my keep, most of which she spent on booze. Maybe that was his way of dealing with the responsibility of fatherhood, pay them off to shut them up.
I never asked him for anything, so there was no way he was going to refuse this. It was Wednesday, and the ticket was for Saturday, so that gave me two days to prepare everything. I’d been shopping, and though I wasn’t too keen on the latest fashion, too flamboyant, too colourful, I wanted to look my best.
I was nervous about telling my parents. Luckily, it was easier than I’d thought. I told them my plans, showed them the letter, and then waited for their reactions. I knew that getting them in the same room and telling them together would achieve better results. Dad wouldn’t say no. He’d do anything to make himself look good. And if he agreed, Mum wasn’t going to argue.
“Well, the ticket’s paid for so we can’t say no, can we?”
Mum looked as if I’d betrayed her.
Dad put his hands on his hips. “So how long have you been planning this, young lady?”
“I didn’t plan it, and I’m not a child anymore, so stop treating me like one. I’ve been stuck here long enough. I need some space.”
They’d agreed, so why was I trying to ruin everything with my big mouth. I needed to think of something warm to say.
“I love you both,” I lied, “but I need a break. I’ll be okay. Aunt Caroline will look after me.” I hugged them, and that seemed to do the trick.
I had a gut feeling that something special was going to happen on this break. I’d dreamed about escaping for most of my life, getting out of the village. However, I’d never got any further than Layton. The time had finally come. Now I was ready to spread my wings, be responsible for my life. I was in command. From now on, things would be different. I felt it in my bones.
Saturday soon came. I was packed and ready to leave. I couldn’t wait to turn my back on everything and everyone. It was a new start for me. I was leaving my past behind and starting afresh.
Dad picked me up from the house that morning. I hugged Mum tightly. God, she stank of booze, and for just a few seconds I worried about leaving her. Who would clean the house? Who would make the meals? Who would buy her liquor? Who would be there to pry the half-smoked cigarette from her fingers as she slept? However, the sense of dread passed, and I was once again grateful to be leaving. I think I unconsciously decided then that I was never going back.
Dad had loads of advice for me, and I pretended to be interested, keen to hear everything he had to say. Before we said our farewells, he gave me a bundle of money. I guessed I held at least a thousand pounds in my hand, but I wasn’t shocked. I expected it. It reminded me of the time he’d forgotten my birthday and turned up three days later. His apology, a brand-new bike, which Mum said I didn’t deserve. I was a kid then, so I forgave him, and so it went on. He could always buy his way out of situations.
“This should be more than enough, but if you need any more just ask. Remember, honey, I’m only a phone call away, and I’ll always be here for you.”
Yeah, sure.
“Thanks, Dad, you’re the best.”
I hugged him and then jumped on the train as fast as I could. God, what a hypocrite! I knew he would wait until the train pulled out, and leaned out of the window to wave. That satisfied him. I waited until he was out of sight then threw myself onto the seat, relief poured over me. I was finally on my own, away from them both.
I opened a book but couldn’t concentrate. Instead, I contemplated the things I would do on my summer holiday, things I’d never had a chance to experience before such as ice-skating. I’d never even been to a cinema. I’d seen movies on TV, of course, only I’d never been to a theatre, museum, shopping centre, or even a nightclub. Jesus, I’d missed out on so much while growing up, and it wasn’t just that we lived in the middle of nowhere. Mum wouldn’t let me go on any school trips, or go out with school friends, if I’d had any that was. I was deprived of fun and love. The little time I spent with my father, I stayed inside the house, feeling abandoned while he played with his girlfriend’s daughters. All his attention went on them. It upset me at first, but I got used to the weekends at Dad’s. I used them as a holiday; a break from Mum and the dishes. I was lazy. Those days, they allowed me to be lazy about. Yet all the same, I knew the time would come to go back to my chores and intoxicated mother.
I stared out of the window and watched the landscape whiz by. I was accustomed to the slowness of the village, the laid-back life. How would I cope with the hustle of a busy city? I was nervous about that, and a little scared. Maybe I wasn’t as tough as I thought I was. I had no reason to put on a front. Caroline didn’t know me very well, so I could start afresh and be a new person. I suppose that’s what scared me the most.
The journey took about three hours, and I’d nearly finished the novel I was reading by the time I’d arrived. I stepped off the train, and barely had time to take in the noise and rush of the crowds, before Caroline greeted me with a big, genuine hug, and nearly suffocated me with the scent of expensive perfume. I started to relax as she took my bag. Sandy grabbed my hand, and we basically pushed past people to get out the station. I couldn’t believe how busy it was, and how busy the Londoners were. Everyone seemed in such a hurry. Was there a concert on or something? I was going to ask Sandy if we got out of here alive.
“I can’t believe how much you’ve grown,” Caroline yelled above the echo of the tanoy.
“You’re so pretty,” Sandy gushed. There’s that word again! God, I hate it. “Although, you should cut your hair. It would suit your face better. I can put you in touch with Fredrick, our stylist.”
Before I had a chance to politely tell her where to shove that suggestion, Caroline hugged my shoulders. “What are you two gossiping about?” She smiled, and then looked down at her watch as we waited for the car.
“I was just telling Jade to get an appointment with Fredrick, Mother. Although he is in such demand-”
Caroline cut her off. “Nonsense, don’t you dare touch that hair, honey, it’s gorgeous. How long did it take you to grow it that long?”
The car pulled up to where we were standing, so I didn’t feel the need to answer. I had doubled plaited my hair, so I could only imagine her face when she saw it down.
Their house wasn’t far from the station, which meant I wouldn’t have far to walk to get back into the city centre, and with less chance of getting lost. They lived in a big detached house, with three bedrooms, two bathrooms, and an amazing conservatory. The dining area was huge, at least three sizes bigger than mine. A designer kitchen made up the first half of the room. The other half was the dining section, which contained a matching oak dinner table, and to my surprise, a TV. Yes, a TV in kitchen. It occurred to me then that Caroline was very well off. I hadn’t known this. In fact, I didn’t really know anything about either of them. Nonetheless, they had invited me into their home.
Caroline was my mum’s sister and a divorcee, and Sandy was her only child. Securing a large settlement through her divorce, she could live in the style she wanted. Did she realise how lucky she was, or did she take things for granted like most people? As I sat in the kitchen drinking tea, they bombarded me with questions. I tried to answer as best as I could, even though I didn’t want to talk about home. After eating a quick snack, and telling them how tired I was, I asked if it was okay if I went to bed. Sandy showed me to the guest room.
Painted in pastel pink, the room was small, yet cosy. Sandy explained that it was their guest room, but mine for the summer, and I could do what I liked with it. Thanking her, I said goodnight and shut the door.
A brown oak wardrobe stood to the far left, with a single bed covered with a flowered duvet, placed centrally. Next to the bed was a bedside table, on which
stood a small, pink lamp. To the right was an old-fashioned dressing table with a vase of fresh, sweet-smelling flowers. I went over to them, their fragrance brought back memories of home, summer, and the country. Not a nice reminder. I shook the memory away and lay on the bed, smiling. I was content for the first time in my life. I started humming. I wanted to laugh and jump up and down on the bed like a little girl but managed to restrain myself. Eventually, I unpacked my clothes and climbed under the warm, snug duvet.
The first week passed too fast. I spent most of my days with Sandy and her friends in the city and watched TV in the evening. Sandy invited me out most evenings, but I wasn’t into the nightlife. She couldn’t understand why I didn’t want to hang out with her and her friends. It wasn’t that there was anything wrong with them, they were okay in small doses. I preferred to vegetate indoors rather than socialise, although I did manage to find some time to do my own sightseeing. Thinking about it, I never did get to go ice-skating. Sandy didn’t like it, and I couldn’t go on my own, could I?
Caroline was great, she stayed out of the way and left me to do my own thing. Even though she lived like the upper class, she didn’t act like one. She was easy to talk to and get along with, treating me more like a lodger than a relative, but that was cool, that’s how I wanted it, and I think she knew that.
Over the week that passed, I watched Sandy change into a condescending snob, but maybe she was always like that. I started to dislike the girl, and spent less time with her and more time by myself, which was fine with her. The novelty of having her cousin staying was wearing off. Even so, one sunny Saturday morning, Sandy begged me to go to the centre with her, and she wouldn’t take no for an answer.
The shopping centre held about two hundred shops, including restaurants, beauty parlours, boutiques, and even a gym. I remember the first time I’d visited the centre, I felt like a child experiencing the fair for the first time. I must have looked ridiculous, gaping at the shops, mouth wide open in amazement, and with my head bent back so I could see the second and third floors. The atmosphere was exciting and new to me. Noisy shoppers, who were too busy to watch where they were walking and too rude to apologise, surrounded me. The wonderful aroma of coffee and cookies seemed almost magical. Thinking about it now, it was pathetic. I foolishly thought I must have done something right to have been given the opportunity to visit the shopping center. I laugh when I think about how excited I was.
I indulged too much in the first week. Throwing money away on stupid things like perfume, and CDs that weren’t even my taste of music, but it seemed they were the ‘in’ thing. Of course, Sandy was very obliging in helping me spend my money.
So there I was, back at the centre once more, but this time my money remained at home. I was determined not to buy anything as I needed to be careful with my cash. Sandy, on the other hand, was never short. She wouldn’t deliberately spend money for the sake of it. All the same, if she wanted anything she wouldn’t hesitate to buy it. Okay, so I was jealous. I’d never felt like I needed anything. Now I wanted everything.
We had to go through the subway to get to the boutique Sandy wanted to look in, and of course, it had to be at the other end of town. We walked down the steps into the subway laughing with one another, when Sandy stopped giggling. I looked to see what she was staring at, and that’s when I first saw them.
“Damn! What are they doing here?” she hissed. “It is far too early for them to be out. Jade, walk as fast as you can and don’t look at them.”
A group, of what I first thought were teenagers, were play fighting with one another and I watched how people steered out of their way. But even that didn’t stop them from threatening an old couple when they dared to look at them. The pensioner’s steps quickened. It would have been humorous watching the old man using his cane as if it were a pogo stick if the situation had been different. The couple were frightened. Did I have reason to be scared? My pulse quickened the closer we came to them. Only then I saw him. My heart skipped, and I held my breath.
Lounging casually on the wall, one foot propped up against it, he had one hand in the pocket of his tight, leather trousers. The other held a cigarette. My eyes trailed down his toned chest, which begged to be let out of the black string vest top he wore. His black, sleeveless leather cut looked worn and yet it moulded around him like a second skin. I wondered if he ever took the vest off or if he slept in it. A vision of this adonize, wearing nothing but his cut flashed in my mind. My breathing deepened, my pulse raced, and I thought I was going to faint, and then realised I was staring. Remembering Sandy’s warning I put my head down as she dragged me past them. Before we turned the corner, I stole one last glance, and it was at that moment that he laughed at someone’s joke and our eyes met. OMG, his smile was so sexy, his eyes lustful, and his body begged to be touched. The look only lasted a second, but that was all it took for me to know. He was the hero in all the stories I’d read. The desperate, dangerous lover I’d dreamt about, and I so wanted to be his heroine. He was a model biker; every move was perfection. His hair was short and layered, not like the bikers I’d seen on TV, with long greasy hair.
It was all too brief. Sandy was still gripping my arm as we rushed up the steps. I pulled away from her and leaned against the wall to catch my breath. Holy shit, no man had ever affected me that way.
“You gonna tell me what that was about?” I panted, and then smiled “And please, tell me you know who that gorgeous guy is, the one that was leaning on the wall?”
Sandy raised her eyebrows.
“They are a street MC - sorry, I forgot you’re a country chick.” I frowned at that title. “They ride motorcycles and hang out in places like this. They’re scum off the streets and call themselves the Tyrants.” She put her hands on her hips. “And the one you think is a hunk, is the worst of the lot. His name is Marcus, and he’s the president of that rabble. I heard he killed a member of a rival gang last year. The Tyrants have the worst reputation around London. Take my word for it, walk on the opposite side of the street if you know what’s good for you. They usually hang around here in the evenings, but not this early. If I had known they would be here, we would not have come.”
She walked off, but I didn’t want to leave. I wanted to watch the Tyrants a little longer. I didn’t know who they were, or what they’d done in the past. What did Sandy really know anyway? They were only rumours? But I knew it was true. I could imagine the fights, and the things they got up to. On the other hand, I could also imagine the fun they had being together in such a large group, looking out for one another. That’s when I decided I wanted to join and become a member of the Tyrants. And the best way to do that was to hook up with one of the guys. My eye was on Marcus.
The following Saturday, late afternoon, I wandered around the town hoping to see them again. I did, but this time they were with their gorgeous bikes. It looked as though they had just parked up. A row of chrome glinting road bikes lined up outside a town pub. I searched for Marcus but he must have already entered the pub, I sighed, the thought of not seeing his face. Yes, I could have gone inside and bought a drink, but it was a small pub and I wasn’t ready to be noticed again. The last of the Tyrants went into the pub and I was about to sulk off, when the door opened and a biker came out and lit up a cigarette. He inhaled deeply as he lounged against the wall. I couldn’t take my eyes off him. I had not seen him before, he was too gorgeous to have missed. I had a feeling he would notice me staring, and I wanted to walk off but my legs wouldn’t move. Butterflies floated around my stomach and I felt instantly attracted to him. No, it was more than that, and that’s what scared me. Marcus had one things that this biker didn’t – position. Marcus had people at his disposal, people that obeyed his command and I wanted the same kind of respect. I turned my head and walked away.
I made sure I got my daily fix of Marcus. I couldn’t think of a whole day passing without seeing him. I observed each member, watching how he or she spoke and acted, their attitude, their
appearance. Two of the guys stood out and pressed all the right buttons, my mysterious biker, and Marcus.
Every evening I watched them, from a distance. I would hide in the shadows as they passed me. Or I would stand on the stairs of the subway and listen to their conversations. They didn’t just look tough; they talked tough.
I learnt more about them from Sandy’s friends. No one had a nice word to say about the Tyrants.
There were other gangs and MCs in London, but they stayed out of each other’s way unless there was an organised fight – a clash – only then would they join forces, or fight with one another.
My first impression of Marcus totally blew me away. Tall, medium build with an elfish face, high cheekbones like a fashion model, and his baby blue eyes sparkled when he laughed. He always wore a sleeveless T-shirt, and always in the same style, only sometimes it was white, and other times grey or black. I think he wore them to show off his muscles. He was noticeably well built, but not over done. His right arm was tattooed with a black panther; he wore a silver dagger earring in his left ear and a smile that made my heart melt. I know it sounds corny, but that’s how I felt. He was certainly the most innocent looking and the baby of the pack, so why was he the leader? His temperament and character were the opposite of his looks. People looked up to him. He had power, and he knew it. He could handle any situation and held a deep assurance about himself, but it wasn’t arrogance. It was obvious to everyone he met that he was the head of the Tyrants.
There was something dominant and dramatic about him. I wanted to meet him, belong to him, be a part of the group and not be told what to do and to express myself openly. I needed the chance to be somebody for once. I wanted Marcus, and I was going to have him. I felt there was another person inside me, waiting to be let out, and that the time was right for release. I’d never felt like I belonged anywhere, but suddenly I knew that this was my home and that the Tyrants were the family I’d longed for.
In Times of Violence Page 2
