not about to deal with their shit. I was on a fucking knife’s edge. I was feeling too much. I chose not to feel anything but the hate-fuelled fire inside me these days. She was fucking with my mind. Cheska being here and hurt and fucking seeking me out after a year apart was fucking with my head.
“Firstly, calm your tits, psycho,” Eric said, crossing his arms across his chest. “And secondly, your old bird stumbles into the club, beaten and stabbed, and you ask ‘what?’”
I pulled out my cigs and sparked one up. I took a deep inhale, the nicotine hitting my veins and giving me a second of fucking reprieve.
“She burst into the club, ran right through the fucking bouncers and into the dance floor.” Charlie poured himself a brandy beside me. “Not bad for a bird who’d been stabbed.” He smirked at me. “Tenacious little thing, isn’t she?”
“She came for you,” Vinnie said, speaking directly as always. “She came looking for you, Artie.” He tapped the side of his eyes. “Her eyes. Her eyes changed when they saw you. Like Pearl’s do when she looks at me.” Vinnie slipped his hands into his pockets and started whistling “Ring a Ring o’ Roses”, his eyes now on the landscape painting of some country house on the wall.
“Isn’t she getting married soon or something? I’ve seen their mugs all over the society pages,” Freddie asked, sitting down in an armchair.
“You scan the fucking society pages?” Eric said to Freddie, hiding a smile with his hand.
“Most of the fuckers who owe us money are on those pages, dickhead. I keep track of them so they don’t try and dodge town. Those pages seem to know more about the richies than even their own families do.”
“Oh, I didn’t know you were all here,” Betsy said, coming into the room. “I thought you were at the club tonight.” She frowned as she looked at us all, then straightened her shoulders. “What’s happened?”
Charlie tipped his head in my direction. “Cheska Harlow-Wright. What else could rock our fearless leader like this?” Betsy’s eyes widened, and I knew the fucker had been speaking about me to his sister. Between that and the smart-arsed comments, I was about five seconds away from knocking off his head.
“The Cheska?” Betsy asked.
“The very one.” Charlie smirked as I shot him a death stare. My cousin and friends were the only people on the fucking planet who didn’t piss themselves in my presence.
“The Cheska. What the fuck is that meant to mean?” I snapped, getting more fucked off at my family by the second.
“Nothing,” Betsy said, shrugging, and got herself a drink too. I lit another cig and leaned against the fireplace, watching the flames dance up the chimney. I pictured Cheska as a kid at her dad’s house. Then at eighteen in her bikini on the yacht. Her pressed against me, then spread out on the dining table on our yacht as I fucked her, as I ploughed into her, needing to chase her away. Instead, afterwards, she only wanted me more.
Then years. Fucking years of taking her in every way imaginable. She liked it rough like I needed. Clawed and fought me and made me fucking addicted.
The room was quiet, and I couldn’t stand it. I knew they were all watching me. “What?” I shouted, turning with my arms out. “What’s with all the fucking silence?”
It was Betsy who spoke, unaffected by my outburst. “Just haven’t seen you like this since …” She trailed off, and we all knew what she meant. The night after I got back from Oxford, after our dads were done and I had to take the helm. The night I siphoned off any feelings and emotions I had for Cheska and became what I had to in order for this family to survive.
We’d fucking gone to war that night. And we’d been fighting on the front line ever since. “She means something to you,” Betsy added, clearly choosing her words carefully. “If you’re being honest with yourself, she always has.”
“I fucked her! That’s all,” I spat, and flicked my cig into the fire, done with this conversation and this dissection of my fucking life. I marched out of the room and straight into my bedroom. When I entered, the doctor was just moving his stuff. A bag of blood was being transfused into Cheska’s arm. But she was cleaned up, my sheet and duvet pulled up to her shoulders.