Note: Contains explicit language.
Chapter One:
Everyone knows I’m the real thing. That I live life on my own terms.
It takes a lot of endurance and a strong mentality to survive the streets. Which goes to say, I've earned my label as the most nefarious gang leader in Jacksonville. I relish in the fact that I am feared. This out-in-the-middle-of-nowhere country land would go unheard of if it weren't for me. Granted, I fill the town with crime, but that's what makes it interesting. Life this way has been habitual ever since I can remember, and nothing or no one can change the way I choose to live it.
I am the authority.
Establishing a gang doesn't go unnoticed to the policía, but then again they're not so inconspicuous when it comes to patrolling my neighbourhood. Over the years, outrunning them has become second nature—our midnight missions and daily violence are always obscured in cunning and immediate ways, therefore proof of ever committing the crime can never be confirmed and traced back to my team. It's what I'm notorious for.
My group is not for coños, for people to come and go as they please—there's no in between when it comes to joining my mob, you're either in or you're out. Every moment, every breath you take in my gang, your life is on the line. Dedication is essential. That's not to say I haven't had members betray me, or try to destroy me in the past—challenging my power is one thing, but compromising my status is another. Traitors are dealt with ruthlessly.
But with everything said and done, I will only ever trust number one. Ultimately, at the end of the day, there's only yourself to rely on. Cut the cord to your emotions, let apathy dry up your soul—it's the only way to survive. Having been disappointed too many times to count, not giving a fuck about other people has almost become a reflex. Independency is what gets you through in life, if you have to depend on anyone else, you're already screwed.
Nothing ever comes at an easy price. Life's a game and survival is key.
***
The acrid scent of marijuana drifts through the compact shed as I walk towards one of my gang members splayed out on top of a rugged mattress. Covering the cold cement, he lays against his back, his eyes staring up at the ceiling—completely out of it. With my own bloodshot eyes, I focus in on the used joint trapped between his fingers. His dark, tussled hair falls into his eyes as he feels me approach him.
"You better hope that's not the dope for tomorrow's client," I warn.
Ineptly, Cane grasps the joint and takes another desperate drag; throwing his head back, he sucks at the pipe greedily before letting out a satisfying moan.
"Relax, hermano," he slurs, "it was just a single bud."
"I'm not your fuckin' hermano." I spit drily. "Get your dopey ass up and prepare another bag."
Despite going through a euphoric high, he remains aware that my order isn't optional. Erupting into a coughing spasm, he forces his heavy body off the crusty mattress. I watch with narrowed eyes as he stumbles through an archway, directly into the storage area. I'll be lucky if he's still conscious by the time he's finished with the preparation of another batch of weed to sell. Cane's not my most intelligent guy around, but he comes in handy with the weaponry—firing a gun is his only strong suit, which always works in my favour.
With him dealt with, I head towards the alcohol. At the end of the shed, along a thick tin wall, three fridges lean against the back in a line. As I reach in to the largest refrigerator for a cold beer, echoing barks of laughter burst from behind another thin wall to my left—the "entertainment" room. Flicking open my can, I chug down the liquid until it hits the spot; my tastebuds flare when the bitter taste of beer spreads along my tongue.
“Don’t get too excited, Mickey, because this is as much cleavage you’re going to see tonight.” I hear another shout, and as I follow the cackles, I find the team sprawled around a cardboard box.
A bottle of Jim Beam has been placed in the middle of a poker game. Strip poker. The only chicas of my gang—Amy and Susie—tease the guys with their quick witted dealing and half-naked bodies. Cal and Michael, stripped down to their boxes, soak up the view. The smell of alcohol is detectable in the room, but not overpowering as I watch them from the doorway. Amy loses a round, and strips down to her underwear, throwing her blouse at Michael.
I go unnoticed as they holler and whistle. Michael wraps her shirt around his arm, another piece of Amy's clothing for his perverted collection. Her strawberry blonde hair sways to the side as she leans over the box, and puckers her plump lips flirtatiously. The guys eat it up.
"Looks like you won’t be gettin’ lucky tonight.” Cal chuckles as he claps Michael on the back, his Australian accent slicing through each word.
"Teasing is our thing," he responds confidently. "I'll have her."
Susie and Amy share a mischievous look, one I know too well. Tonight's gonna get loud.
As their next round starts, I step back out and inspect the nearest non-workable fridge, where a stack of various pills cartoned in clear bottles are held. I count each container, making sure they're all accounted for when tomorrow's most expensive customer comes to town. As I close the door slowly, I'm greeted with a long pair of stunning legs. Susie leans against the closest wall, her thighs visible from underneath a short denim skirt. A wicked gleam in her eyes causes the front of my jeans to tighten as she bends forward, emphasising her large breasts.
I know that the browns in my eyes are swirling with arousal as they trail down her curvaceous body, pausing as they make their way to her recently glossed lips. Thick, tasty lips. Internally groaning with anticipation, I stalk towards her. I wrap my hands around her waist, grasping the skin along her hips. With the other, the cold perspiration from my beer can drips down through my fingers.
“How many of those have you had, handsome?” Susie asks as her bright red nails slide seductively over my bicep.
Huskily, I inch closer to her shiny petals. “This is my eighth one, mamacita."
Amusement curves the edges of my mouth as Susie's breath hitches. "Can I have a taste?"
Without breaking eye contact, I lift my drink to my lips and take a single gulp. Her neck cranes to be closer as she pushes her chest against mine with desire. Swallowing, I waste no time in crashing my lips to hers. A moan vibrates from her tongue to mine. Her arms instantly wrap around my shoulders, burying her nails into the skin at the nape of my neck. The lower half of my body keeps her motionless against the metal wall as I lick her bottom lip.
Teasingly, she smiles against me as she ignores my physical demand for more. Roughly, I bite at the sensitive skin by the corner of her mouth, making her yelp and giving me an opening. In domination, my tongue forcefully tangles with hers, and as she moans with the taste of beer joined with the rich tang of Jim Beam, my hand voluntarily follows the lines of her ribs.
As she tries to take control of the kiss, I growl a warning in the back of my throat and push her harder against the stiff tin. My roughness only excites her more, and I welcome it as she swiftly jumps and wraps her legs around my waist, her high-heels digging into my lower back. With my own ferocity, my calloused hands seek a hold of her voluptuous ass around the moment her teeth graze my bottom lip.
But the instant I feel her erratic heartbeat hammering against my chest, I push away with one last nip. Licking my already damp lips, I pin her with a hungry smirk. I wash down the taste of her raspberry gloss with a heavy swig of my beer, emptying the bottle of its last drop. Susie breathlessly leans against the wall for support, her chest rising and falling with each gasp of air.
“There’s more where that came from, chica.”
I leave her standing there as I make my way back to the other side of the shed, where Cane now sits against the dirty mattress, cans of beer and rolls of cigarettes scattered around him. One final joint lays abandoned by his feet, and as he covers his eyes from the blinding light bulb above, I know why—he's never been one to handle his intake of alcohol and dope.
“You’re a pussy, amigo.”
Cane makes no move to uncover his face. “Fuck you, Kade.”
Several moments later, the gang join the pungent yet intoxicating circle of booze and marijuana, their clothes all tattered and askew.
“Had enough of your stupid game, eh?” I ask them playfully.
“You weren’t calling it stupid the other night when you and Susie were playin’,” Cal replies smugly. He kicks at Cane's boot plaid feet before falling down against the almost springless mattress.
“Yeah, sure looked like you were havin’ fun then.” Michael's eyes glint with amusement.
My lips curve at the memory. “It's a whole other story when the game ends with a night of raunchy sex."
“Yeah man," Cal grumbles, "and wakin' up the whole fucking neighbourhood."
Nonchalantly, I dismiss him as I grab hold of Susie's hand. I tug at her until she falls across my lap with a squeal—one that almost deafens me. Not wasting any time, she positions herself around me like a cat, straddling my hips; she knows exactly what I like. Before I let myself be carried away by her talented lips, I throw an empty can at Michael's head as he begins to suck face with Amy. Buttons suddenly sprout from his shirt as she rips the material.
“Oi, you horny necios, go do your dirty business someplace else," I order firmly.
Despite my intoxicated slurring from the alcohol, the authoritative tone of my words still remains. Cal takes initiative, pushing the intense lovers apart and out through a half-broken wooden door that leads to their joint bedroom. Next, he hauls Cane up onto his shoulder with a grunt and walks off down to the entertainment room with a knowing wink.
Once I hear the metallic click of the last door, my rough hands reach out for Susie's hips. As I glide my fingers along her back, her face bends down to my neck. A groan slips from my lips as her teeth tease my earlobe—I let her do her thing as I recline in my seat, giving her more access to the skin along my collarbone. Susie's nails find their way under my shirt, clawing along my abdominal muscles and across my chest. For a few moments, I let her linger, follow the movement of her hips, until—without remorse—I shove her towards the ground.
Her palms slap against the cold floor as she lands on the cement with a shriek. Her thick glistening petals form a pout as she stares up at me with bright, oceanic eyes, knowing full well just how much her sensual gaze can turn me on.
“Dance for me," I command. "Now.”
Susie stands, her coal-black eyebrows rise towards her hair line. “Dance?”
“Sí, dance!” I growl as I lounge further back. “And make it sexy.”
A seductive grin carves across her thick lips as she begins to sensually sway her hips from side to side. Her arms rise above her head, reaching for the roof, her eyes closed as she breathes out erotically.
“Anything for my man.”
***
When Susie slips into sleep, I push her naked body off from across my stomach. Finding my clothes, I sloppily throw them on before grasping my car keys from inside my back pocket. With the shed now cased in absolute silence, I make my way to the back exit for my nightly drive. Beer and half a bud of marijuana still circulates through my body, but I still force myself out into the cool air.
Once outside, I'm greeted with the oppressive night sky and the luminescent full moon. I breathe in the refreshing breeze, letting it wash over the warmth of my body and soak up the remaining sweat from tonight's escapade. Sluggishly, I stumble over to my beat-up truck—the one thing I can always trust in life—parked safely under a half dead willow tree. The bright disc in the sky lights my way. Adjusting my eyes to the darkness of my truck, I blindly jam my key into the ignition. Without having to look in the rearview mirror, I know that the white of my eyes are a dull red. As I start up the engine, I clumsily slide it into gear before speeding down the gravel driveway with no destination in mind.
Making it onto the bitumen, I adjust and re-adjust my eyes as I creep over the speed limit. Driving each night along the country road has been a nightly ritual of mine; a way to clear my head, relax—a moment to myself where it's just my steed of a truck and the open roads. I let the Autumn wind be my music as it blows through my car windows; a heavy, calming whistle of air.
With the vibrating chug of my truck and the loud rush of air, I feel myself slink into my seat, my hands now lazily gripping the steering wheel. Confident in the familiarity of these back roads, my eyes start to droop. Kilometres down the road, through the fogginess of my vision, a light shines almost directly towards my truck—my eyelashes flicker as it grows nearer. My cloudy mind thinks nothing of it for the first few moments, until the glow seems to expand.
Opening my eyes against the intensity of the light, the familiar sound of a semi's horn blares. It roars over the escalating beat of the wind. Within seconds, I realise there's no time to swerve out of the way—no safe way to escape the growing blaze. Time seems to slow as I recognize the glow of a vehicles headlights; it advances towards me at an almost unrealistic speed.
The blaring of the incessant horn vibrates throughout my skull, and as their shrieking breaks sounds through the open windows of my truck, I realise that this is it. There's no way out of this. Shakily, I unhook my fingers from around the hard rubber of my steering wheel. My right foot leaves the accelerator as my left leg lays limp beside the breaks. Leaning back into my seat, I force my eyes to close when I place my cold hands into my lap.
As tough as I want to be in a moment like this, I feel my heart ricochet against my chest. Sharp tingles pulsate from my pounding head to the end of my toes; they dig against the sole of my shoes, forcing my feet to gouge into the carpet, as if that’s going to somehow stop the impact. It seems time goes from minutes to seconds as I physically demand my eyes to open—to face the truck that is about to end my life.
“Mierda,” is the last thing to leave my lips as steel crashes into steel.
The truck slams with an unimaginable force into the front of my beloved truck, sending it pelting backwards in harsh, quick spins. My car topples over onto its thin metal roof with one final, furious thrust before it glides across the rugged road for what feels like miles. Faintly, I feel the vibration of the side of my truck crashing into a tree. The burning stench of rubber attacks my nostrils. Almost numbly, my lungs start to give way as my eyes force to close.
One...two...three sharp gasps manage to escape my blood stained lips before a cloak of darkness takes my sight, sending me into a state oblivion.
I let the blackness take me away.
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The plot is 100% nothing like Perfect Chemistry by Simone Elkeles.
Glossary:
Coños (pussies)
Hermano (brother)
Necios (fools)
Mierda (holy shit)
Authors note:
I'm using a legitimate Spanish Translation website for the Spanish words used in my story.
I found the first half of this chapter a little hard for me to write, as it's not a topic I have written before, and I was a little uncomfortable, but it had to be done ;)
Thank you,
Tiana Jade.