Shattered Poetry (Broken Lives #2) Page 13

  “What did she say ’bout me?” he finally asked.

  “The principal wouldn’t tell me, but it wuz obviously sexual, cos he wuz livid, even said he’s goin’ to make damn sure she doesn’t work in a school again. So, don’t feel sorry for her. She deserves what happened, if not more. I’m just grateful Jasper told me what wuz goin’ on or that woman could’ve done worse to you.”

  “She wouldn’t have, she knows I don’t like her.”

  “You don’t get it, Dante. She’s a predator. She would’ve found a way to get at you eventually, and she pro’bly would’ve done more to Ash if he hadn’t quit school.”

  Dante mumbled something in a different language.

  “Quit speaking Croatian,” his father snapped. “If you have sumpthin’ to say, say it to my face in our language.”

  Dante said something in Maori. His father replied back in the same language, his tone softening.

  Silence followed, then Dante spoke again, this time in English. “You sure we can’t go out for food? I really am starving,” he said, obviously only saying it to get his father to leave.

  “How ’bout you go outside and pick some money off a tree, cos apparently you think it grows on them.”

  “How ’bout you sell the last bottle of vodka to Uncle Hemi? That pisshead will give us money.”

  “Don’t get cheeky and he’s still at work.”

  Shuffling sounded. “We can go together.”

  “Fuck, when you get sumpthin’ into your head, you don’t let up, do ya?”

  “Cos I’m hungry, so let’s go.”

  “Fine! But I’m not asking Hemi. I’ll get the bartender chick to give us a free feed. She’s thirsty as fuck for my fat cock.”

  “Gross!”

  His father laughed. “It won’t be when you’re stuffing your face full of steak and chips, cos your dad has got the moves.”

  “Old man moves.”

  “Thirty-six ain’t old, you cheeky li’l bastard,” he said, surprising me, the man looking younger than he was. I’d assumed he was in his early thirties, not mid.

  Dante barked out a laugh. “Yes, it is.”

  I listened as they walked away. A minute later the front door closed, then a motorcycle engine started up. I wondered how I hadn’t heard it before, because the rumble was loud. A loud vroom followed, then silence filled the air, Dante and his father gone.

  I pushed to my feet and opened the wardrobe, looking around for a mirror. There was nothing, which probably explained why Dante’s hair always looked like he’d just gotten out of bed.

  I wiped my mouth, seeing a smear of lilac lipstick discolouring the back of my hand. I wiped it again as I headed for the front door, stopping for a moment to do up my blouse buttons, Dante having torn off the bottom two. I tucked my blouse back into my skirt and smoothed down my hair, tidying myself up the best I could. Once done, I opened the front door and scanned the yard and road. Relieved to find it deserted, I stepped outside and closed the door behind me, the lock clicking in place. As quickly as I could, I cut across the front lawn and slipped out the gate, freezing as a souped-up black car stopped across the road from me. It was the same one that had brought Dante to his tutor lesson, with the flames emblazoned across the side panel and the engine sticking out of the hood.

  Jasper’s father emerged from the car, his gaze landing on me. A smile pulled at his big lips, everything about the man large. Actually, the words big and large didn’t cut it for him, massive far more apt. He must’ve been close to six-four, with a stomach no pregnant woman could compete with. It was spilling over a pair of dirty blue jeans, his black shirt and leather vest barely covering the mountain of fat. I had to force myself not to run, because I was sure he would run me down like a bear if I made a move. I swallowed, praying he didn’t recognise me from the day before. I just hoped he’d been too wrapped up with stopping Dante’s father from attacking Helen and Paul than noticing me on the periphery, watching with the rest of the school.

  He cut across the road, stopping a bit too close to me. He smelled of cigarettes and oil, the latter staining his fingers and clothes. He was probably a mechanic, which made sense, considering his car was far too expensive-looking to be from a neighbourhood like this.

  “You’re risking life and limb for your cause,” he said. He looked a lot like his son, Jasper just nowhere near as fat. He was also a touch darker, his Maori blood obviously stronger.

  “Huh?” I replied, words defying me.

  “Walking in there,” he said, indicating to Dante’s house. “They have pit bulls. And don’t you Jehovah’s run in packs?”

  “We’ve ju-just finished up,” I answered, playing along with his assumption I was a Jehovah’s Witness. I knew there was a temple, or whatever they called their churches, close by, the residents probably used to them knocking on their doors. “I was about to head home.”

  His eyes dropped to my hands. “Where are all your pamphlets? You lot are usually shoving them at us.” He smirked. “By the way, I’d love to talk to you ’bout your God. I’ll have you shouting out his name in no time.” He sniggered. “I’ll even give ya the second coming.”

  “I have to go,” I blurted out.

  “Nah, you should come inside,” he said, indicating to a two-storey house I assumed belonged to him. “I know you lot needa convert people to get into Heaven. Plus, you’ll get extra brownie points for converting a Satanist.” He leaned his face down, flicking his tongue out at me.

  I spun around to leave. He grabbed my arm and yanked me to him, making me cry out. I hit out at him, but he grabbed both my arms and stuck his face into my hair. I screamed, going wild, desperately trying to break free, but his grip was too strong. He made a loud sniffing sound, the man smelling my hair.

  “Let me go!” I yelled, both terrified and in shock, not believing this was happening to me.

  He pushed me away from him, his expression darkening. “You smell of weed.” His gaze moved to the Rata house, then back to me, his eyes narrowing. “You lying li’l ho. You ain’t no Jehovah’s Witness, you’re a booty call.” He frowned. “But Tane doesn’t smoke dope, Dante does.” His eyes narrowed further. I could almost see his brain ticking over, coming up with a reason why I was there, one I had to stifle fast.

  “I’m Dante’s English teacher,” I said quickly, going with as much of the truth as I could. “His father wanted me to come over to talk him into returning to school.”

  “Then why’d ja lie ’bout bein’ a Jehovah’s?”

  “You assumed, and I wasn’t in the mood for explaining. I just want to go home. I’ve had a bad day.”

  Amusement washed over his unattractive features. “Yeah, betcha wanna wash all the low income offa you.” He licked his lips, looking like he was imagining me doing it.

  “I should go,” I said, taking a step back.

  He took a step closer to me. “You sure, darlin’? I’ve got big hands.” He lifted them up, wriggling his fingers at me. “I’ll clean ya real good.” He smirked. “Then dirty ya all over again.”

  I spun around and ran for my car.

  He hooted. “See you at Jasper’s parent/teacher’s interview, I’m defo coming this year.”

  I unlocked my door and jumped in, tensing as he descended into a fit of laugher. I slammed the door shut, dropping my damn keys on the floor in the process. I swiped them up and shoved the car key into the ignition as he started walking towards me. He stopped next to my window as my Volkswagen spluttered to life. I planted my foot on the accelerator, taking off. I glanced in the rearview mirror, seeing him standing on the road, watching me leave.

  I sped home in a state of shock, fear giving me a lead foot, the car going well over the speed limit. Even though I’d covered my tracks, I was still concerned he could say something to Dante’s father. Though... Mr. Rata had asked me over, so it didn’t mean I’d done anything wrong. Not in his eyes anyway. He’d probably think I’d done him a favour, would even be happy with me. I just needed
to tell Dante, so if it was mentioned he could back up what I’d told Jasper’s father. Everything could be explained away, even why I was there at that time. I could pretend that I thought I’d left something behind and had returned to get it. A whole flurry of plausible excuses bombarded my mind.

  My phone went off, causing me to jump in my seat and swerve towards the kerb. I righted the car and pulled over to the side of the road, my hands shaking badly. The phone continued ringing, the sound making me tense up even more, my run-in with Jasper’s father still affecting me badly.

  I searched through my bag, finally finding my mobile. I clicked it on, answering it with a “Yes?”

  Markus’s voice came over the line. “Good, I finally got through to you. I had some issues at school again.”

  “What about?”

  “The female student that was harassing me. She’s at it again. I had to get the principal to call her parents in. They’re on their way now. I ’ave no idea how long the meeting will take, so don’t bother getting dinner for me. I’ll pick somefing up on the way home.”

  “Okay.”

  “I’ll still try to get home quick. I love you, Clara.”

  “I ... love you, too.”

  ***

  Markus didn’t return quickly like he’d wanted to, which was good, because I couldn’t face him straight away. My paranoia over Jasper’s dad seeing me was making me worry that the man could say something to Dante’s father, making him suspicious. So, I phoned Dante, needing to bring him up to speed so he could cover for me. No one picked up. So I phoned a few more times over the course of a couple of hours, Dante’s father answering my last call. Like the previous time he’d picked up one of my calls, I hesitated, which made him growl.

  “Phelia, stop harassing Dante,” he bit off, “or I’ll be having a talk with your mother. Just cos you gave him an alibi doesn’t mean you have him at your beck and call, you li’l nympho.”

  I didn’t ring again after that, feeling bad I’d gotten Phelia into trouble again. Regardless of whether I liked her or not, I didn’t want Dante’s father turning up on her doorstep, demanding to see her mother. I wouldn’t wish that on anyone.

  I eventually calmed down after reassuring myself for the hundredth time that Dante’s father had asked me over. Still, I took a sleeping pill to shut my overactive mind up. I fell asleep within minutes, waking up at the touch of a warm body pressing against my back.

  I turned over, about to say Dante’s name, my mind still locked in a dream about him. I stopped myself just in time as Markus murmured my name. He leaned forward and kissed me, his breath reeking of alcohol. I jerked my head back and glanced at the bedside clock, surprised to see 11:58 P.M. in neon red.

  I turned back to Markus. “Why are you so late?” I asked, unable to see his features, the dark room shrouding him.

  “Isss not that late,” Markus slurred. He yanked me closer, pressing his lips against mine again.

  I pulled away, surprised he was drunk. He loved going to the pub, but he never overdid it on a school night, usually stopping after one glass.

  “Why are you drunk?”

  He let out an amused snort. “’Cause I drunk booooze.”

  “You know what I mean. You have work tomorrow.”

  “I’ve had it,” he grunted. “Had. It.”

  “Had what?”

  “Spoilt brats who touch what they shouldn’t.”

  I stiffened, my mind instantly going to Dante.

  “I’m a man,” Markus slurred, “not some teenage boy a girl should obsess over.”

  I relaxed, realising he was referring to the student who was harassing him. “Is this about your meeting at school?”

  “Yes,” he grunted. “Joelene’s parents are clueless to what a spoilt brat they’ve raised. They wouldn’t listen to me or the principal. They fink they ’ave the peeerfect kid and that I’m lying about her sexually harassing me.” He exhaled loudly, going silent for a few seconds before speaking again. “I wish she would disappear. I don’t even care how. I hate her so much.”

  “You don’t mean that,” I replied, taken aback by his venomous tone.

  “I do. I don’t ever want to see that little tart again. She’s making me life a living hell.”

  “I think the booze is talking,” I said, knowing Markus wouldn’t say these things normally, his nature too sweet.

  “No, no, she’s ’orrible.”

  “Is this the girl who gave you the condoms?”

  “Yesss and I want her expelled. Gone, gone, gone,” the last word barely audible. Soft breathing started up, sounding like he’d fallen asleep. A moment later he jerked violently, startling me. He flung an arm over my body. “Missed you,” he mumbled, then went quiet again, his soft breathing resuming.

  After a few minutes, I slipped out from under his arm and grabbed a blanket, heading for the couch.

  12

  Phelia

  Loud knocking came from the front door. My mum pushed up from the breakfast table to answer it, mumbling under her breath that she was already late for work. Not like it mattered, since she hated her job. If anything, she was probably secretly praying to be fired. After my dad up and left her a couple of weeks ago, I’d gotten her a job at Claydon supermarket, which was where I worked part-time. Though, I was now regretting it, because she wouldn’t stop whining about how demeaning it was. I knew it wasn’t all sunshine and roses, but the people who worked there were nice, and it wasn’t like she had to stay there forever. I most certainly wasn’t. As soon as I turned eighteen, I was going to get singing gigs in pubs and nightclubs. I’d mentioned it to Dante on the way home from school the other day, telling him we should work as a duo. He was such a great singer; sooo good it was surreal. I would definitely pay to listen to him sing.

  Smiling at my best friend’s text, I fired back: Yur just jealous.

  Hell yeah, u lucky bitch, Mischa responded, referring to me having had sex with Dante.

  I wondered how long it would take before the lie got around school that I’d been with him while Ronnie was being murdered. The smile left my face, upset threatening to rise again. I’d liked Ronnie.

  But I love Dante.

  And it wasn’t like I was betraying Ronnie by giving Dante an alibi. Dante was clearly innocent. He wasn’t a killer, because if he was, I wouldn’t have given him an alibi. My thumb stilled on the phone, knowing that wasn’t true. Because I would’ve given Dante an alibi no matter what. God, he was so beautiful, gorgeous, fucking perfect, and I wanted him more than anything in the world. And if effing Jasper hadn’t walked in on us, we probably would’ve made love. I hated Jasper! He was such an arsehole. He was always making up shit to fit whatever dumbass scenario was playing through his thicker-than-thick brain—that was, if he even had a brain. And he was wrong about what I’d done with Dante. I hadn’t gotten Dante drunk on purpose. Dante had asked for the whiskey, actually, he didn’t just ask, he pretty much demanded it and probably would’ve taken the bottle even if I’d said no. I’d also tried to take it off him when he’d had too much. So, Jasper didn’t know what he was talking about. And even if Dante was a bit freer with his affections while drunk, so what? I’d heard alcohol brought out people’s true feelings. And he’d said he wanted me, so there was no way I was going to back off for Jasper Bloody Rakete. He was just jealous I didn’t want him instead, and why should I? He was a big fat blob who always smelt of mince pies and Coke, not to mention was demanding as hell ... and violent. I shivered, still remembering his hand on my throat and the way he’d pushed me against the wall. I’d considered telling my mum about it, but had held back, not wanting her to find out I’d wagged that day. The grounding she’d given me for having ‘sex’ with Dante was more than enough, without adding extra for wagging.

  My mum’s voice rose from the lounge, grabbing my attention. A second later she went silent, making me wonder whether the person at the door was my dad. He’d tried to convince me to live with him instead of my mum, which wa
sn’t going to happen, because I loved living in Wera. He wanted to move to New Caledonia, so he could be closer to his family. It wasn’t as though I didn’t like the place, I just loved living in New Zealand more. Plus, Dante was here, and wherever he went, I wanted to be.

  The front door slammed shut, my mum probably having told my father to leave. I went to push up from my chair, annoyed she hadn’t let me see him, but froze as Ronnie’s father entered the dining room with her. He had an arm wrapped around her chest and a hand covering her mouth, my mum’s head not even reaching his chin. But she didn’t look scared. She looked petrified. Her normally pale-brown complexion had gone white, fear bleaching all colour from her skin.

  Jonah McDonald’s hard stare landed on me like a sledgehammer, the Devil’s Crew president knocking the breath out of me. He looked a lot like my dead ex, just older and more vicious-looking, his features cut out of granite. His arms were also rippling with muscle, with colourful tattoos and prominent veins running up his sun-ripened skin. If it hadn’t been for his fat stomach ruining the picture, he would’ve looked like a body-builder, the man probably taking a cocktail of steroids along with his five Big Macs a day.

  He shoved my mum at his right-hand man, who was standing behind him. Also dressed in the Devil’s Crew leather cut, Leroy “Reaper” Carter was covered with a skeleton tattoo, the man a walking nightmare. Black ink was etched over every visible inch of pale flesh, even his face and shaved head depicting what lay beneath his skin.

  Jonah smiled and spread his arms out so wide his fingertips brushed the cupboards on either side of the kitchen. “Phelia,” he said, his voice croaky, the man a heavy smoker. “C’mere.”

  Avoiding my mum’s terrified gaze, I pushed out of my chair and went to him, knowing better than to refuse Jonah McDonald. Aware of what he wanted, I wrapped my arms around him, unable to stop the tremble that ran through me. He returned the hug, his big arms reminding me of a python, ready to squeeze the life out of me. And he would if he knew I’d given Dante a false alibi. I bit my lip, praying he didn’t know about it.