Anna
Sunday's were often peaceful at our house. It was the one day where the clubs weren't open, and I found my brothers relaxing at home. They didn't do what most guys did and lounged around playing video games and hang out with their friends. Their days of relaxing meant sleeping in until noon, and organising the week ahead of them without too much of a disturbance from the outside world. Either way, I appreciated the fact they were home, as much as we argued, I felt a strange sense of calmness when they were all here. It was like the subconscious stress I felt leave my body knowing nothing could happen to them while they were home.
Today, however, wasn't one of those days. I could already tell it was about to become an interesting day. When I wandered into the kitchen to get breakfast, I was greeted by my mother leaning against the kitchen island, wine glass in her hand, and her phone in the other. I ignored the fact it was only ten AM, I gave her a tight smile.
I wouldn't say my mother was an alcoholic per say, because an alcoholic meant that she drank constantly. My mother only drank when something went wrong within the business and she was so stressed that she couldn't unleash her emotions correctly. That was pretty often though, I will admit. She usually threw herself into some sort of project if she wasn't drowning herself in some sort of alcoholic beverage. She had renovated the lounge room, and redecorated the bedrooms. More recently, she had just finished our kitchen.
Everything use to be white. White tiles, white bench tops, stainless steel appliances. It had looked like something out of a house of royalty. It didn't last long though. A few months ago, Johnny came home one day, dripping blood into the white tiles. He had gotten into a fight with a bunch of guys, but wouldn't tell us the details of what had happened. He had a black eye and busted lip. His nose was tripping like a fountain and the gash in his side was seeping blood through the makeshift bandage he had wrapped around it. He later told me he had gotten stabbed and needed me to help him clean up the wound. I did that for them more times that you would consider normal. I use to hate the sight of blood, but now it felt like it was just an average thing to do around here.
My mother had scrubbed and scrubbed the floor until her fingers were numb and raw and you couldn't enter the kitchen without getting the bleach fumes in your eyes and in your mouth. She kept saying it had stained and she could still see the droplets of blood on the floor, even though we all repeatedly told her that there was nothing there. She had then demanded my father to provide the funds to change the entire kitchen so it reflected the same colour as his soul. The next week, all the cupboards were dark ruby red wood and the kitchen benchtops were a glittery black. No one had commented on how our kitchen now looked like something out of a horror movie, we just let our mother do what she needed to do to distract herself from our haunted reality.
"Everything alright?" I asked, trying to keep my tone light. My mother's hair was white as snow, and it was in loose curls which framed her face perfectly. Her bright blue eyes that usually looked alive and beautiful, were dull and slightly glassy, and it made me wonder how long she had been drinking for. Her makeup was done like she was about to go to a wedding, and it hid the heavy bags I knew were under the layers of concealer. My mother was beautiful, she looked like a porcelain doll, so delicate and fragile. You'd never think she'd ever have the capability of hurting a fly. Even drunk, she looked like something out of a magazine. She always did upkeep her image of being a perfect wife when she company was around. Given that there was no one with her in the kitchen, I could only assume that our company was with my father, somewhere in the house.
My mums big eyes lifted from her phone, only to give me a small glance before she looked back down at her phone and took another large sip from her glass. "There's a meeting."
I nodded. I could of guessed that. The house was awfully quite, even for a Sunday, which meant that my brothers and my father were hidden away in his office. By the looks of my mother, it wasn't anything good. I didn't press on what it could be about, knowing I wasn't going to get the answer even if I did ask.
"What are your plans for today?" I asked, reaching for an apple on the bench. I had suddenly lost my appetite for a big breakfast at the sight of my mothers glass. Her stress rolled off her like a bad smell, and it caused my shoulders to visibly tense. My mother wasn't stupid, she had been with my father since they were kids, and her drinking habits developed when he was incarcerated. It was like a subconscious trigger that brought up too many ugly memories for me. I tried to keep it to myself though, the last thing our family needed was me to tell them that my father going to jail was still traumatising me.
"I don't know, I'm waiting for your father to finish up."
I bit into the apple and leaned against the counter, eying the wine bottle that was next to my mum. It was already half empty and it made me question how long she had been drinking for. "I heard you went to Hidden last night," she said, though her eyes remained on her phone.
I rolled my eyes. "Of course they told you."
"They didn't need to tell me, I've got eyes and ears everywhere, darling." She shifted her weight from one foot to the other, and give me her best version of a stern look. It wasn't that convincing though, she looked as scary as kicked puppy. "You know that."
"I didn't do anything wrong," I mumbled, shaking my head, chewing my apple. "They made another guy bail on me again."
"You make it sound like that's the end of the world, Annabeth."
Before I could open my mouth and reply, that yes it was a big deal because they were being overprotective assholes who clearly had control issues, Johnny wandered into the kitchen, surprising us both. The meeting must of ended early.
He stared at my mother for a moment longer than he should of, and arched an eyebrow. "Seriously?" He questioned, and his eyes flickered to the wine bottle that was half empty on the counter the same way I did, however he was not as subtle.
"It's not even lunch time and you're drinking?" His voice was full of judgment. I winced at the sound. He didn't exactly have a soft bone in his body. Johnny was blunt and aggressive, even with his own family. My mum hated it because she usually was the target of his angry outbursts.
She rolled her eyes him and stood straight, her eyes narrowing at my brother. "I don't question what you do, you don't question what I do. I thought that was the rules of this family?" It was the question of years worth of built of family trauma and Johnny was use to such double meaning questions but his jaw still tensed and his knuckles whitened around his phone as he gripped it tighter.
I sighed heavily, and turned to him before he could start an argument with my mother. I put the apple down on the bench, and grimaced at the glare he was giving our mum. I hated when they fought, it was always loud and sometimes latest for hours. It wasn't something that was needed today. "What is it?"
His glare turned from our mother to me. "You're wanted in the meeting."
I nodded, not questioning it as I followed him down the hallway and into my fathers office. I was just glad to put some space between them.
My father often called me into these meetings, though it was always for different reasons. Some days it was to get everyone's orders for lunch, other days was because he wanted my input on a business decision because I was good with money and the actual business side of things. These meetings usually only consisted of my family, whether that meant my brothers and few cousins who helped out with the cleaner side of things or people that we considered to be extended family. Any guard who worked for our family, wasn't allowed in the meeting unless they had been working for the family for at least five years. It was a precaution for the family, my family wasn't about to let anyone into the house without them gaining our trust. That was something hard to do these days.
I was surprised however, to see Harry standing next to the bookshelf in the corner of the room, next to Trent and Michael when I walked in. It made me freeze in my steps for a moment because Johnny give me a light shove and told me to move. Jerry, Sam and a few other guards who had been here longer than I had been alive were all spread out over the small office space, and I gave them all a small greeting before moving over to my dad who sat behind his desk in his office chair. He smiled warmly at me.
"Hi darling, come have a seat," he said, motioning to the seat that was besides him. I cleared my throat before sitting down, my eyes flickering around to all the large men that stood around the room. My dad was a lot smaller than all of this guys, my brother included, and yet it still baffled me how he had such a obeying group of men to listen to him bark orders at them.
Despite most of the men being the same age - they looked a a lot older than my dad. Despite everything that he had dealt without throughout the years, he had aged well over. His grey hair was slicked back with gel, and he still looked as if he was in thirties, with his tan skin that seemed to glow and lack of wrinkles. His brown eyes were dark, almost black. He looked at me like I was his world, but I knew deep behind those eyes, there was a different person I tried desperately to ignore.
I sat besides him wordlessly, folding my hands in my lap. I silently wished that I wasn't sitting in front of Harry without any makeup and a basic tracksuit and jumper. I was use to everyone else seeing me in casual wear, but with Harry looking effortlessly sexy in a grey jumper and jeans. I tried not to look insecure when I made eye contact with him, watching the silent twitch of his head, and I think that was his version of a nod. In the daylight and without the sweating bodies of the club, I could see him a lot better. In this light, he made me a lot more nervous. He didn't smile at me, he seemed to have a a permanent scowl on his face when you stared at him for long. His hair was pushed back out of his face. His hair was relatively short, though it still managed to fall in front of his eyes with the lack of hair products in it.
His lips were pressed in a firm line as he stared me and it made me wonder what he could be thinking about to make him look that annoyed. He was still as pretty in the daylight as he was with the neon lights flickering against his skin at the club though, that was a given fact. He held eye contact with me until I looked away, unable to hold the stare off for any longer.
"Now that everyone's here, I want to introduce everyone properly to our newest member," my father raised his arm, extending it towards Harry, shaking me out of my trance. Everyone turned to look over at him, but they already seemed familiar with him given the fact nobody actually said hello. Their was a glint of admiration in my fathers eye when he looked at him and I needed to bite down on my tongue to hold my questions. I think the formal introduction was purely for my interest and the fact I had come through halfway through the meeting.
Harry pushed himself off the wall, and gave a small nod towards my father, his lips turning up in a small smile. If you could even call it that. It looked foreign on his face, like it was actually an effort for him to smile.
"This is Harry Styles," my dad introduced, turning to me. "He's going to be playing a very vital role in our business."
"What role is that?" I couldn't help but ask. I was started to really question my family's judgment now, maybe all the blows to the head had finally started to do some damage on their brains, causing them to make poor judgments. I had never laid eyes on Harry before last night, and suddenly he was welcomed into the family meetings like he had been around forever. I didn't like it. It didn't matter he came to my rescue yesterday and he looked godly, he was still a stranger.
Harry didn't even look at me when I voiced my question, his eyes were locked on my brothers. He looked amused, and I was starting to really feel lost. What was I missing? He looked as if he was sharing an inside joke with them.
"We've recently come into a bit of an issue..." My dad started. He cleared his throat and looked at me, a smile still on his face but it looked more forced now. "Trent, would you like to inform your sister?"
Without missing a beat, Trent turned his attention to me. His arms were crossed and he looked at me blankly. "We're changing our system and the way our guards work."
My eyes flickered back to Harry, who still stood like a statue besides my brother. He was staring at me like I was the only person in the room and I felt my cheeks warm at the sight. "I don't understand what this has to do with me."
"It doesn't," Johnny said, rolling his eyes. I guess he saw the faint blush on my cheeks and I glare at him. He gave me a smirk in return and shook his head. "We're just wanting to tell you, since you seem like you want to make your presence known before we have a chance to properly train our men. I don't like firing guys after they go through the initial stages."
I rolled my eyes at him. "It was one time, Johnny. Get over yourself. It's not my fault Newbie was about as lethal as a breadstick. Maybe you should pick your guys more wisely."
The room was silent, apart from the quiet snicker from Michael. I wasn't offended by the lack of laughter though, the stare my father gave was enough for anyone to shut up and sit up straight. Besides, everyone here was use to the bickering between Johnny and myself. It had become an occurrence that the amusement in it vanished along time ago.
"Enough Johnny," my father grunted. "This involves your sister as much as it involves you."
Johnny rolled his eyes but said nothing, crossing his arms and slouching back against the wall.
"We wanted to introduce you to Harry because he's an old friend," Trent said, clearing his throat. "And he's going to be around the house a lot more. He's going to be working with us at the house, and is going to be one of the live in guards."
I blinked, suddenly unable to find my words to say something even remotely smart. Our live in guards were mostly around my fathers age, maybe even order; and did not look anything like Harry. From my understanding, they had been very close to my father before they started their work as a full time live in guard. It was a long process and took many years to complete, and Harry fucking Styles had certainly not had the experience. Hell, I'm sure most of the guards had been working longer than Harry had been alive.
I looked over at my dad, who was eyeing me carefully, waiting for my reaction. "Why do we need more guards?" I questioned, clearing my throat. "We already have a few. What am I missing here?"
"You never seem to miss a beat, do you?" Dad mused, though dodged my question completely, "I don't know why the boys don't include you in the business more, you do have an eye for the small details."
I could head a collective scoff from my brothers and maybe even a couple of the guards. My father seems unbothered though, he was smiling proudly at me.
"She's not getting involved," Trent said tightly, his shoulders tensing. He hated when my dad spoke about me getting involved. It made my heart soften because it was the only real time that he ever shown some sort of positive emotion towards me. He gave my dad a look before turning his attention back to me. "We need more guards because of something that's happening behind the scenes, and we thought it would be a good idea to have Harry at home because it's easier than going back and forth."
I nodded slowly. I wanted to ask how they knew Harry could be trusted and how well they actually knew him, but I knew it wasn't my place to ask anything. At least, not around everyone. My questions would of been knocked back as soon as I asked them and I didn't want to look like I lacked the authority my brothers had in front of anyone.
"I just want to make sure you're comfortable with this though, darling." My dad smiled at me, it was a soft smile, one that was rare to shown to my brothers. "You're my main priority. If you're not comfortable with this, you just let me know."
I glanced over at Trent to see his body tense. Given by his body language, the discussion to have Harry as a part of the business had already been set in stone, and my dads question had caught him off guard. They were business partners, but my dad always had the last say in things. It didn't matter if it had been organised for months prior, my dad had every right to pull the plug on anything last minute, and Trent would have to sit with his mouth shut and watch months worth of work go down the drain.
My gaze then settled on Harry, and I watched the intense gaze of his green eyes. He didn't seem to care about the way he was staring, even if it was in front of my dad and brothers, who were in actual fact, his bosses. The idea of him being one of the live in guards excited the teenager in me, but the adult in me screamed that it would be a bad idea to have someone that good looking and off limits living in the same house as me.
Part of me wanted to get over this silly crush I had already developed on him. Knowing me, if I had told my father I wasn't comfortable - or if I didn't like Harry, I would forever regret my decision and thought about it constantly. It was like an itch I needed to scratch. Once attended too, it would disappear.
"No, I think it should be fine," I said slowly, trying to choose my words correctly. My dad smiled and begun muttering a few words before continuing on with the rest of the meeting.
I zoned out of it half way, the words drugs, shipment and cocaine getting thrown around too much for my liking. My mind started to wander back to my mother. I wondered what had her so emotional about this meeting that she felt the need to drink. Introducing a new member didn't seem like the end of the world, nor did it even seem like it would even effect her wellbeing. The fact that my brothers were moving drugs in the club wasn't anything new to worry about, so I wondered what had gotten her so upset. I sighed to myself, knowing it was just another Taylor secret I was being left out of.