And she’d consume me some more. Sinking her talons further into my brain. I didn’t let anyone in. Had never let anyone in. No more. Never again after Mum and Pearl, but then Cheska … she came and smashed through my walls, fracturing the fuckers until she slid into the cracks. Until she got under my skin and started tearing me apart, smothering my brain.
I needed her. I fucking craved her.
Cheska wasn’t in the bedroom. I quickly took a shower, then went looking for her. Charlie, Eric and Vinnie were already in the living room. “Penny for the guy,” Eric said, holding out his whisky glass like the tosser he was.
“Black eye okay as a replacement?” I said and got myself a gin.
“So violent,” the fucking plank replied.
“So, old boy,” Charlie said, sidling up beside me. “How’s the traitor?”
“Dead.”
Charlie held up his glass in approval. “I’ll drink to that.”
My eyes were fixed on the doorway, waiting for Cheska. “Where is she?”
“In one of the bedrooms with Betsy.” Charlie nudged me, lips twitching. “Calm down, Artie. It’s only been five minutes since you last seen her.”
“Fuck off.”
“Seriously,” Eric said, taking a seat next to Vinnie, “who knew the great Arthur Adley, the Dark Lord of London Town himself, could be tamed by a posh bit of pussy.”
“Watch it,” I warned Eric.
“Pearl approves,” Vinnie said, and I felt my body fucking tense. I eyed my mate. The nutter was staring at me like he could see right through to my brain, see how much Cheska was screwing with my head. Vinnie nudged his head to “Pearl”. “She said she likes her, even if she is from Chelsea.”
I thought of Cheska the other night when Vinnie had told her that her mates were okay. That they didn’t blame her. Cheska had asked me if I thought Vinnie could really talk to the fucking dead. I’d never given it much thought before. Now it was all I could fucking think of. I was dreaming of my mum, Pearl, the fire. Dreaming of my old man getting gunned down before me. Dreaming about them sitting around Vinnie, staring right at me.
Like a tap. She’d made the shit I locked away in my head into a fucking tap. One twist and the drip it had been had turned into a full bloody stream. And I couldn’t fucking switch it off.
I didn’t feel. That wasn’t what I did. I was fucking numb. I had to be to live this life, to be the head of this family. To fucking survive. But there was now a fucking Cheska-sized hole in my chest that was bleeding all over the bloody place.
Gene walked into the room; the kid was skittish as fuck. “Gene,” I said, taking in his black clothes and the long sleeves he had pulled down over his arms. Sleeves that when pulled back revealed two black bandages that hid a fuck-ton of razor scars.
That’s what people who felt too much in this life became. A fucking shell—cutting, drugs and death the only escapes.
“Hi, Artie,” he said and sat down on the chair. He stared at his feet, only lifting his eyes to look at Charlie. The kid felt better in my cousin’s company. And he should. Charlie would have anyone in this family’s back.
“Where the fuck is she?” I said again, needing to see Cheska’s fucking face.
Freddie entered the room and laughed. “Bloody hell, Artie. Calm the fuck down. Never I thought I’d see the day when you were controlled by a bird.”
I was going to kill them all. One by fucking one.
Five minutes later, I slammed my glass down on the bar and planned on dragging Cheska out of the bedroom, ready or not. That or fucking her over the bed, not giving two shits who was watching. Just as I passed Gene’s chair, Betsy, Vera, Ronnie and Cheska came through the doorway.
“Alright, Artie,” Betsy said, a knowing smile pulling on her lips. “You look flustered.” Betsy pulled Cheska through behind her. My fucking heart almost stopped when she entered in high-waisted jeans and a white top tucked into them. The outfit showed off every inch of her perfect figure, curves for fucking days.
Cheska smiled at me, her brown hair falling down her exposed back. “Get the fuck here,” I hissed, and Cheska walked toward me in her knee-high boots. I cupped the back of her head and pulled her into me. I smashed my lips to hers, tasting something sweet on her lips, no doubt some fucking sugary cocktail Betsy would have made her.
A thunderous chorus of bangs came from outside, echoing around the old church. “Fireworks!” Ronnie said, and everyone in the room headed outside.
When they were gone, I slammed Cheska against the wall. “Happy fucking birthday, princess,” I said against her mouth, moving my hands straight to her tits as she pushed against me. My lips dropped to her neck.