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They are laughing and I see the moment their little leader’s eyes light up as he sees us coming. I stare him down, but he only ignores me. Hayden is tapping on his phone again, but I have no doubt he’s clocked the obnoxious shits in their bright white track suits and baseball caps.
“Nice nail polish, Pullman,” idiot one says.
“Do you Vajazzle your lady parts too?” Idiot two, with a face tattoo grins.
“Suck any good cock lately, queer-boy?” The third idiot says, they all laugh like it was the wittiest thing they’d ever heard.
I feel Brent’s demeaner change at my side, he’s ready to knock the fuckers out, but I subtly raise my hand warning him not to. Having someone else step to his defence would only make Hayden look bad. Brent knows that but his incessant need to protect those he loves outweighs logic sometimes.
Hayden looks up from his phone slowly, a frown on his face as though he’s just noticed the three of them. “I’m sorry, who are you?”
Some of their humour dies. “We’re Sydney’s right-hand men.” Idiot one, who assumes leaderships juts his chin out as he sneers up at Hayden, who has a good couple inches on him.
The three of us laugh at that and I throw my head back on a snort.
“Of course you are, kiddo.” Hayden pulls a face that you might make to a child who’d just told you he wants to be a dinosaur when he grows up. “Wait, I know you.” He looks to idiot three. “Dick, right?”
“It’s Richard,” he grits back in response. His face is gaunt almost and dark circles ghost his eyes. This guy is on drugs. Fucking idiot. No one high up on Sydney’s pay roll should be messing with that shit, everyone knows that.
“Right, that’s it. Richard Daws of St Michael’s Estate, born in 2006, never finished school, and still sleeps with the light on at night.”
Dick’s face turns to thunder as idiot two laughs under his breath.
“And hey, little Dicky, talking of a good cock sucking, tell your Mum I said hi.” Hayden says, bopping the kid’s nose. In a second Dick’s hands were fisted in the lapels of Hayden’s black suit jacket. “Ah, ah, ah, little one,” Hayden grabs his wrists and Dick winces as he lets go, telling me that Hayden is applying excessive pressure. “We don’t touch pristine Italian wool with our grubby little chocolate covered fingers, do we? Now, I suggest you and your little friends move along before your curfew expires.” He releases the boy and goes back to typing on his phone, moving past them without a second thought.
“What was your name?” I ask the leader.
“Brad Pratt,” he says, giving me more respect than he did Hayden. “Why?”
I smile slightly, making sure it doesn’t reach my eyes. “Just taking notes.”
When we reach my father’s office, he isn’t alone. Keith, his personal security, his Brent equivalent, is perched on the low-level filing cabinets behind where he sits at his desk. Sydney isstudying some paperwork, not looking up as we enter. Keith watches us with dark eyes, his permanent sneer in place. He’s a scary looking guy, he could give Brent a run for his money, size wise but he’s got twenty years on him in the age department. His greying hair is clipped close to his scalp, and he has a scar running from his temple to the opposite side jaw. He’s been my father’s security since before I was born, and he’s a sick fuck who gets off on hurting people; his presence makes me queasy.
“Why the fuck is the club on Penn Street not mine yet?” My father doesn’t look up as he cuts to the chase.
Now is the time for tact. But I seem to forget that. “I thought the club was supposed to be mine?”
“You fucked that up when you didn’t sign the papers when you were supposed to.”
“There were complications.”
Finally, he looks up at me. His eyes burning ice. “What complications?”
take a breath. Fuck, I hope this doesn’t backfire. “Apparently one of the singers from the club was attacked. Amiri was shaken up about it, said he didn’t feel comfortable doing business deals while they were off.”
“Why would he be uncomfortable with that?” He leans back in his chair, regarding me with suspicion. I’m not entirely lying. I called Amiri to tell him that Elle would not be in to work, I didn’t tell him exactly what happened but that she was in a bad way and staying with us until she was recovered. I told himIdidn’t think it was appropriate to discuss contracts and he readily agreed.
I shrug. “They’re a ‘we’re all family here’ kind of workplace.”
He scoffs. Of course, Sydney Preston doesn’t care that much about his own flesh and blood, let alone a chosen family. “She’s recovered now, right?”
“Huh?”
He rolls his eyes, stands and comes to stand right in front of me. “The singer, she’s all heeled?”
My heart is beating wildly against my ribcage, but I keep eye contact and my demeaner calm. I shrug again. “How would I know?”
His nose crinkles in disdain for a second before he draws his arm back and slaps me hard across my face. My head snaps to the side and my cheek blazes. I see both Brent and Hayden flinch, each wanting to step in, but they wisely stay in place. Keith smirks, wanting nothing more than one of my friends to step up so he can put them in their place. I turn back to face my father, keeping my expression neutral.
