Shattered Poetry (Broken Lives #2) Read online

  “Yeah,” I said, taking a step back, not wanting to be within kissing range. I didn’t think he would kiss me, but after what he did to his brother, I wasn’t risking it.

  A huge grin spread across his face, twisting up the corners of his mouth, the dude seriously looking demented. “Tell him Killer is hungry for his...” He raised the pie to his mouth and slurped out some mince, smacking his lips at the end. “Cum.”

  I screwed up my face. “Fuckin’ gross, dude!”

  “Not for me. I bet your daddy is tasty as fuck.” He ran his tongue over the pie. “I wanna lick that honey and...” He bit into the crust. “...eat him out.”

  “You know he’s not gay,” I said, having no intention of telling my dad, especially since he’d probably smash Killer’s face in for even suggesting it.

  “He will be for me after he gets a load of this.” He stuck his tongue out, touching the tip of his nose with it, Gene Simmons having nothing on Killer.

  “Leave Dante alone!” Hemi barked.

  Killer looked over his shoulder at his brother. “I don’t want the kid. I want his hot as fuck daddy riding my tight arse.”

  “Pain!” Hemi yelled. “Shut your mouth!”

  “Only when Tane puts his fat dick in it.” Killer made a cock-sucking motion.

  Hemi picked up the fry pan off the stove and threw it at his brother, grease spraying everywhere. Both me and Killer shot to the side, the pan hitting the wall next to us. Killer swiped it off the floor and tossed the pie he was still holding up in the air, hitting it like a ball. He laughed manically as pastry, mince and cheese splattered across the floor and table.

  “Get out!” Hemi screamed at him.

  Killer blew him a kiss, then sauntered out of the room, tossing the pan over his shoulder.

  Shaking his head, Hemi wiped his mouth again with the back of his hand. “Crazy arse motherfucker.”

  The other gang member glanced at me. “More like a fatherfucker.” Fabian sat down on Killer’s chair and removed a coffin nail from behind his ear, his long hair greasier than the fry pan on the floor.

  I grinned at him. “You’re a father.”

  His eyes widened. “Watch your mouth, you li’l prick!”

  I grabbed my crotch. “Nuthin’ li’l ’bout this, and you better watch what you say ’bout my dad. See where it gets ya.”

  “Did I mention his name?”

  “You inferred it.”

  He rolled his eyes. “It was just a joke, kid,” he said, lighting the coffin nail. “I know Tane’s not a fag.”

  “Yeah, Tane’s definitely a motherfucker.” Hemi walked over to me, shoving me towards the door. “Get to the car.” He glanced back at Fabian. “And clean this mess up.”

  Fabian blew out a plume of smoke. “Your brother did it.”

  “And I’m telling you to clean it. You got a problem with that?”

  Fabian shook his head and pulled out his phone, probably going to ring his old lady to do it.

  I swiped up my school bag and headed out of the dining room, crossing the lounge into the corridor. Framed black and white photos lined the walls, displaying men and women picking grapes, a few images at the end in colour. The place was originally a wine business, actually, still was, among other things. It was owned by the Skin’s president, a Croatian with a large nose as well as one for business.

  With Hemi on my heels, I exited out the back way, entering the club’s garage/workshop, where most of the gang’s operation happened. Jasper was waiting by his dad’s souped-up hot rod, looking sullen. On his right, an array of vehicles filled the massive garage. Some were gleaming with new coats of paint, while others were stripped down to skeletons, men working on them like ants on sugar. The Skins’ main business was stolen cars, the wine company just a front.

  My gaze landed on my dad, who was busy spray-painting the hood of a stripped-down Holden, probably the beauty Jasper had stolen. The image was of a skeleton slipping on a coat made of skin. It looked gruesome, but beautifully rendered, my dad an incredible artist. Although my mother had also been an artist, my dad was much more precise, something my older brother had inherited, both of them perfectionists when it came to their art.

  I stopped next to Jasper, who was glaring at his own dad.

  “Don’t gimme that look,” Hemi said. “I’m sick of you eating shit. Why can’t you eat like Dante does?”

  “He eats shit all, while you eat worse shit than me,” Jasper grumbled.

  “And see how that has worked out for me.” Hemi spread his arms out wide. “Do you wanna end up lookin’ like this? Cos you will if you keep shoving your face full.”

  Jasper’s face soured. “Then why don’t you stop if you think you look so bad?”

  “I’m too set in my ways, boy. But you, you’re still young. You can make sumpthin’ of your life. You can be a top race car driver if you got into shape. I’d give anything to have your talent.” He placed a hand on Jasper’s shoulder. “Don’t waste it, son.”

  Jasper breathed out, his features twisting. “It’s hard. I’m always hungry.”

  “It’s fine to eat, just swap the pies for sumpthin’ better, and hit the gym like Pain. You know you could look like that bastard if you tried.”

  “I don’t wanna look like a fag.”

  Hemi’s hand whipped out, hitting Jasper across the head again.

  “Ow!” Jasper yelled, bringing his hand to his head. “Watcha do that for?!”

  “Don’t insult my brother!”

  “But he is one! And he insults me all the time, picking on my weight.”

  “I don’t like either of you insulting each other, and the fact that Pain’s gay doesn’t mean he doesn’t look good. You see how the ladies stare at him. If he wuzn’t gay, he’d be swamped with pussy, pussy that could be yours.”

  Jasper pouted, not appearing convinced it would do him any good.

  Looking exasperated, Hemi shook his head at his son. “Just get in the car, shit for brains. I wanna get goin’ before the motorway gets chocker.”

  Jasper turned to the car, running his hand over the flames licking the side, something else my dad had painted. “Can I drive it today?”

  “No,” Hemi said, removing the keys from his oil-stained jeans. He headed for the driver’s side.

  Jasper followed his dad. “Why not? You said I’m a good driver.”

  “I needa make sure you and Dante get to school safely.”

  “No, you don’t. I’m not a li’l kid anymore, I’m a fully-fledged Skin. I can take care of me and Dante.” He lifted his shirt up, flashing the gun stuck in his waistband.

  His dad sneered at him, not looking impressed. “I think your new job is inflating your ego, boy. If a bunch of those DCs come after you, one gun won’t be enough.” His gaze moved to me. “You armed?”

  I shook my head. “Don’t wanna.”

  Hemi’s sneer grew. “It doesn’t matter what you want. Your father told you to carry until this shit blows over.”

  “Don’t care.”

  “I bet you’d care when you’re standing in front of the DCs without bloody protection.”

  Jasper straightened to his full height. “I’ll protect him.”

  Hemi’s attention moved back to his son. “With one gun?”

  Jasper lifted his chin up. “Yeah, I can take all those pussies out.”

  “The only pussy I see is the one flapping his gums, thinking he’s a lion instead of a kitten. Again, check your ego before it gets you killed, boy.” He yanked open the back door. “Get in before I stuff you both in the boot.”

  I got into the backseat while Jasper went for the front passenger seat.

  “Oi!” his dad said. “You’re in the back too.”

  Jasper froze. “Why?”

  “Cos you ate in Sheila.”

  “Sheila?” I asked, looking through the car window at Hemi.

  “That’s what he calls his car,” Jasper said.

  I laughed. “Your car has a girl’s n
ame?”

  “That’s cos she’s a female. And stop wasting my time, Jasper. I have work to do, so get in the back.”

  A grumbling Jasper climbed in next to me. He shut the door, glaring at his dad as Hemi squeezed in behind the wheel. “I should be up front. Whatever you think, I’m still a full Skin now. This is disrespecting me.”

  “No, you’re a sixteen-year-old kid who’s gettin’ punished. I’ve told you enough times not to eat in my car.”

  I sniggered.

  Jasper threw me a glare “You’re bein’ disrespected too, dumbass.”

  “I’m always disrespected, so what’s the diff?” I replied.

  “Well, I shouldn’t be. Plus, I’m almost seventeen, which is almost eighteen, which is an adult, which I practically am. So, I shouldn’t be punished like some small kid.”

  I grinned. “Which means you’re almost nineteen, which makes you practically twenty, which, which, which makes you the oldest and dumbest Year Eleven in history.”

  “Shut the fuck up!” Jasper snapped.

  I sniggered again.

  Hemi turned on the ignition, the powerful roar of the V8 engine coming to life. “You hafta earn respect, and right now all you two are, are pussies, and since this car is a chick, pussies belong down the arse end.”

  “You’re a cunt,” Jasper spat, “which is the same as a pussy.”

  Hemi turned and reached through the seats. Grabbing hold of Jasper’s shirt, he yanked him forward. “You say you’re a full Skin yet you talk to your Vice Prez like that!”

  Jasper tensed. “I-I’m sorry, sir, I didn’t mean to.”

  I covered my mouth, trying my hardest not to snigger, Jasper’s eyes practically bulging out of his head.

  His dad shoved him back against the leather seat. “If you ever gimme lip in front of anyone again, I’m gonna kick your arse outta the gang like I would do to anyone else.”

  Jasper straightened his shirt. “I won’t do it again, Dad, I mean sir. I’m sorry.”

  “Too right you are,” Hemi snapped, facing forward again.

  I sniggered. “You looked like you were gonna piss yourself.”

  Jasper elbowed me hard.

  “Ow! Watch my rib! It’s still sensitive ... like you.”

  “You want me to do it again?” he growled.

  “If you do, I’ll punch you in your small dick.”

  “It’s a fat dick.”

  “Like the rest of you.”

  He raised his fist.

  “Cut it out, Jasper,” Hemi growled, driving out of the garage.

  Concrete spread out before us, with tyre marks marring the surface. Many a time I’d sat with Jasper, watching the gang members doing wheelies across the surface as other members yelled out for them to go faster, me and Jasper amongst them. The air even smelled burnt, the sun scorching the concrete like the biggest, motherfucker of a hot wheel.

  Giving me the evils, Jasper lowered his fist. He mumbled under his breath only loud enough for me to hear, complaining that his father let Killer get away with disrespecting him.

  “That’s cos Killer’s crazier than the Joker,” I whispered back.

  Jasper nodded. “Fuck yeah, that motherfucker is a nut bar on steroids. I saw him laugh after gettin’ shot in the arm once. He needs to be put in the looney bin, but my dad won’t do it. He thinks he can fix his bro.”

  I glanced at the back of Hemi’s head as he steered around the building, Jasper’s dad one of the good guys. Yeah, he was a dirty cunt, a crim, but when it came down to it, he did his best to protect his own, always going out of his way, even if it got shit thrown at him in return. Like with Killer and ... my dad. Hemi always looked out for my dad, probably thinking he could fix him too. But no one could do that, not even well intentioned mates, who didn’t understand that when my dad smiled it was all an act, something to get people off his back. It was why he needed me. Because I understood him more than I wanted to.

  I focused on the window as Jasper’s dad headed for the front gate, my mind returning to a couple of nights ago—to the bartender that my dad had gotten our free meals from. He’d lied about her being hot. She’d been plain at best and definitely not worth a second glance, let alone a first one. Yet, my dad had been flirting with her as though she was a supermodel. He’d excused himself, saying he was going out back for a coffin nail, then had reappeared ten minutes later, not smelling of fresh smoke. Fifteen minutes later we had food placed in front of us by the bartender chick, who was grinning from ear to ear as though she’d just been fucked really good. I clenched my hands, praying like hell my dad hadn’t whored himself to get me a feed.

  The car emerged onto the front grounds of the compound, the garage now hidden by a cream-coloured building with a terracotta roof. Matich Wines was emblazoned across the exterior, a touch of Croatia to the Italian-looking structure.

  The guard opened the main gate, saluting us, or more accurately Hemi, as he drove past him. Jasper’s dad continued up a long driveway, which cut through a vineyard. White netting covered the grapes, protecting them from birds and the weather. A large Croatian/New Zealand-styled building came into view on my right. It looked similar to my grandparents’ home in Dargaville, a typical Dali house with its first level of Halostone blocks. The second level was made up of tan-coloured bricks, with a balcony protruding from it, framed with white balustrades.

  Hemi turned left onto the road. Countryside surrounded us in different shades of green, spreading out as far as the eye could see. The sky above was a blinding blue without a single cloud on the horizon. The prior year, the gang had moved to Matich Estate after one too many police raids on our old crib, the last one sending the previous president to prison, where he’d been murdered.

  With one hand on the steering wheel, Hemi popped a cigarette into his mouth and flicked his lighter, the cherry coming to life. He pocketed the lighter and wound down the window, blowing smoke out of the car. He took a couple more puffs, then glanced at us in the rearview mirror. “Me, the prez, and a few others are having a meeting with the Devil’s Crew to see if we can get ’em to back off,” he said. “None of our guys were involved in the McD killings, yet we’re gettin’ dragged over hot coals all cos of Jonah’s paranoia.” His mirrored gaze flicked to me. “Just lucky that hot li’l skirt gave you an alibi, Dante, or you’d be dead by now. And that not only fucks me off, but makes me wanna pulverise those bastards. But we don’t always get what we want, sometimes second best is all we can strive for. Which is peace. We need to talk to ’em, get ’em to see it’s none of our guys. This is a bloody robbery gone wrong. We’re gonna make those bastards back down and if they don’t, we’re gonna let ’em know, we’ll be goin’ after their guys like they’re doin’ to ours. Jonah might not give a fuck ’bout a war, but sure as shit, his crew won’t want one. Although the DCs are more powerful than us, we have the Mercenaries to back us up. My cuz’s gang is gonna come to the meeting too. Combined, I’m sure we can get those biker arseholes to back down, cos their blood will spill if they take this further.”

  “When’s the meeting?” Jasper asked.

  “Tonight. After work.”

  “Can I come?”

  “If ya want.”

  “He can’t,” I cut in, shooting Jasper a What the fuck are you doing? look.

  Hemi glanced in the rearview mirror again. “Why? As he said, he’s a fully-fledged Skin. He’s also gonna need to sit in on future meetings. Might as well start tonight.”

  “Cos he knew the bastard who wuz killed. The DC might get the wrong idea, like the cops did with me.”

  “Don’t see why? There are other Skins at your school.”

  “They didn’t fight Happy Meal like we did. Jasper even pulled a gun on him once while protecting me. It ain’t safe for him to be near Jonah.”

  Hemi swore and pulled the car over to the side of the road. He yanked on the brake and placed his arm on his seat, turning to focus on Jasper. “You pulled a gun on Jonah’s son?”

>   Jasper slumped into his seat and crossed his arms over his chest, probably cursing me in his head for ratting him out. “I didn’t have a choice,” he grumbled. “He came onto our property, tryna beat the shit outta Dante.”

  “When did this happen?”

  “First day of school.”

  Hemi scowled at him. “Why wuzn’t I told ’bout this?”

  “It wuzn’t a big deal.”

  “Like hell it wuzn’t! You tell me shit like this immediately! Who else saw it?”

  “Auntie and one of Happy Meal’s mates, Landon Papua.”

  Hemi’s shoulders tensed. “Fuck! That’s Liam’s li’l bro. And you never even considered tellin’ me after Jonah’s son wuz shot down? Are you fuckin’ brainless, Jasper? They could suspect you.”

  “I didn’t kill him!” Jasper snapped, acting indignant, my mate a much better actor than I’d thought. Or maybe he was indignant. He was probably pissed off that his dad was questioning him, even more so since Hemi was right. Though, I wondered what Hemi would say if he knew Jasper had killed Happy Meal and his mother.

  Jasper continued, “And obviously Auntie didn’t think it wuz a big deal either, otherwise she would’ve told you.”

  “She’s dumb as fuck.”

  “Like Landon. He can’t add one plus one, let alone connect Happy Meal’s murder to what I did the first day of school. Plus, Happy Meal pissed off everyone. He pro’bly had more guns stuck in his face than Uncle Killer’s swallowed cock.”

  “Watch your mouth before I smack it!” Hemi yelled. “And Landon wuz still the reason Dante got hauled in by the cops.”

  “No, his mother wuz. She made him go to the cops. He wouldn’t have connected jack shit if it wuzn’t for her.”

  “He wuz still the one who told her. Just one absentminded comment and we’ll have the cops knocking on our door, or worse, the DC breaking it down.”

  Jasper shook his head. “He’s pro’bly forgotten—”

  “I wouldn’t forget sumpthin’ like that.”

  “You’re smart, he isn’t.”