Freestyle (Academy of Stardom Book 1)
Freestyle: Chapter 19

Pushing that memory aside, I follow Clancy into the centre of the dancefloor, trying not to let the remnants of that night ruin this one. Any and all thoughts of my brother, David, are unwelcome. I don’t want to think about him.

“Come on girl, we need to dance off some of that alcohol,” Clancy grins, weaving her way through the crowd.

We pass Tiffany, who gives us both her signature glare. I smile sweetly, then raise my middle finger. If she starts on me tonight I’m not sure I’ll be able to hold back. Anger writhes in my stomach. I’m angry at Tiffany for being such a bitch for no better reason than she has an ugly heart. I’m angry at my brother for still having a hold over me no matter how many miles away he is. I’m angry at Jeb for taking away my Breakers in the first place. I’m angry at myself, for letting him. But more than all of that, I’m angry at the Breakers for walking away, for believing what they were told the night our friendship was so cruelly severed. New Year’s Eve might’ve ended up a shit-show, but my seventeenth birthday tops it all.

“Tiffany is on form tonight,” Clancy announces, laughing as she gives her sister the middle finger too.

“Forget about her,” I say, dragging Clancy further into the crowd and feeling the need to work off all the memories and the stress of the past few days.

An hour later, my feet have decided to remind me that alcohol as a pain reliever only works if you keep actually drinking, so I tap Clancy on the shoulder and point to the ladies’ room. She nods, giving me a thumbs up and steps back into the hold of a cute blue-haired guy who I recognise from the academy. He gives me a smile and then returns his attention back to Clancy, who is now grinding her arse against his crotch to I Like It by Cardi B. A wicked grin pulls up her lips as she bends over, the flat of his hand against the small of her back. I grin, she’s such a lush and I love her for it.

Making my way through the crowd, I follow the signs to the toilet then sigh, even in the most exclusive clubs there’s always a queue for the ladies room. Of course, like always, the male toilet has none.

“Fuck it,” I mutter, shoving open the door and striding to one of the cubicles.

“Hey, wrong place, beautiful,” a dude pissing into a urinal remarks as I stride past him.

“Don’t mind me,” I respond, flashing him a toothy grin as I open a cubicle and lock it behind me.

Quickly relieving myself, I flush the toilet then close the lid and sit. Pulling off my shoes, I wince. Even though the throbbing’s back, my feet are still wrapped up well, which is good. I make a mental note to make sure I clean them up the minute I get home. Pulling my shoes back on, I open the door and wash my hands, relieved to replace that the bloke has left. Reaching into my back pocket, I pull out some painkillers and knock them back quickly, washing them down with a mouthful of water from the tap.

“A pretty girl like you really shouldn’t be using the men’s toilets. You never know who you might meet.” Straightening up, I turn around slowly. It’s the guy from earlier. My gaze flicks to the door and he laughs. “Don’t worry, love, I ain’t gonna touch you.”

“You wouldn’t get a chance,” I respond. It’s been a long time since I’ve had to fight anyone, but old habits die hard, and when you’ve been in enough scraps over the years like I have, then it’s not all that difficult to get back into that frame of mind. A quick kick to the balls followed up with a kidney punch usually does the trick even on a stacked guy like this.

“Feisty, I can see why he likes you.” He opens the door indicating for me to leave.

“Who likes me?” I ask, my hackles rising.

“Come with me and you’ll replace out.”

“And if I refuse?”

The guy grins, his teeth white against his ebony skin. “It’s your funeral, or perhaps it’s your friend’s…? Be a shame for that pretty little redhead to end up at the bottom of the River Thames.”

He’s smiling like he’s just made the funniest joke, but the threat is serious enough. I recognise a psychopath when I see one. My older brother was a good teacher.

“What’s your name?” I ask, as I follow him down the hallway and back into the main section of the club. The music is pumping, and I catch a glimpse of Clancy kissing the guy she was grinding against when I left her. The temperature of the club has ramped up with all the bodies and the dancing, and my skin breaks out in a sheen of sweat, though not just because of the heat.

“You know how this works. We’ve never met. Inside,” he demands, not bothering to hide the threatening gaze he aims at Clancy. The bouncer standing in front of the entrance to the booth unclips the gold rope. I slide inside, blinking my eyes as they adjust to the low lighting and come face to face with the leader of the Skins.

“Hello, pretty, it’s been a while,” Jeb smirks, his perfect teeth glinting in the candlelight. Around his neck are four layers of thick gold chains that are probably worth twenty thousand pounds each. He’s every part the gangster with his expensive clothes and his tattooed fingers wrapped in gold rings. I look up from his finger tapping against the side of the crystal tumbler glass he’s holding, and to his face. Beneath each eye are three teardrops tattooed into his dark Mediterranean skin. There’s only the slightest resemblance to Zayn, which I’m grateful for. I hate that they’re related.

“Jeb,” I respond tightly, my skin crawling the second his lascivious eyes glide over every inch of me, despite whoever is on their knees beneath the table sucking him off. The slurping noises make me want to gag.

“Looking good, sweetheart,” he exclaims appreciatively.

“What do you want, Jeb?” I ask, trying to keep my fear at bay and the alcohol in my stomach.

I’m treading on dangerous ground, I know that, but I can’t seem to help myself. This man and his stupid fucking crew of degenerates took my Breakers from me. Zayn always believed that Jeb would look out for him, that he’d never force him into becoming a member of the Skins, but I’d known right from the moment he told me they were related that it was only a matter of time. Blood or not, everyone is just a commodity to Jeb, only worth something if he can use them to his advantage. Just like me.

“Just checking in on my investments,” he says with a wry smile.

“Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah.” He smiles lazily, then shudders as the person beneath the table chokes a little on his cock. “That’s it, suck me good, motherfucker,” he grinds out.

I bite down on this inside of my cheek to prevent myself from saying something that will get me killed. Between us on the table is a pistol, pointing in my direction. I glance at it before forcing myself to hold his gaze. Jeb loves fear. He thrives off of it, but I refuse to show him mine. I’ve seen first-hand what he’s capable of when the mood takes him. The problem with Jeb is that he’d surely fire a bullet in your head for being weak just as quickly if you were to disrespect him. He likes attitude, just not too much of it. Over the last three years, I’ve learnt how to walk the tightrope where he’s concerned. Fortunately for me, I don’t see him often enough to have to put it to the test. The last time we crossed paths was about six months ago when he dropped into Rocks one night unexpectedly. We’d talked and he’d reminded me of the deal I made with him the night of my seventeenth birthday. Like I could ever forget. That deal is a ball and chain wrapped tightly around my neck. One I’ll never be able to shake as long as both he and David are still breathing.

“I hear you lost a battle to Dax last week. Funny, I thought you were the most talented dancer of all the Breakers?” he asks, having great concentration for someone who’s getting his dick sucked-off beneath the table.

“No, that’d be Zayn and I’m not a Breaker,” I say carefully. Nerves jangle inside my chest, but I force it away, gritting my teeth.

“Of course, my nephew, the hip-hop genius… It’s a crying shame he doesn’t put as much effort into his work for me as he does with dance. I’ve had to remind him far too often where his bread’s buttered. He’s a stubborn bastard though, and tough as shit. Takes after me, I guess,” Jeb says, fondly. Though the smile he displays does not meet his eyes. Like my brother, family means nothing to him because he’s incapable of either empathy or love.

My skin prickles. “What do you mean, remind him?”

Jeb smiles maliciously. “They’re not your Breakers anymore, so why do you even give a fuck?”

“I don’t,” I mutter, even though I have a hard time believing myself.

The cruel laugh that follows inches like a spider crawling up my spine, scattering goosebumps over my skin. He doesn’t believe me either. “They left you behind, remember? Those boys really couldn’t have given two shits about you if they believed the story you spun. What does it feel like, having them back? Bet that was a nice surprise?”

Gritting my teeth, I force my face into a blank slate. “I really don’t give a shit.”

His hand disappears beneath the table and for a minute I have to suffer the sound of his cock being deepthroated. Why won’t he come already?

“So, you like my club?”

“Your club?”

“Come on, girl. D-Neath might have his name on the deeds, but I own this place just like all the other businesses in the area.”

Of course he does, extortion is one of the long lists of crimes Jeb is involved in. I have no choice but to work for Jeb at Rocks, but socialising somewhere he actually hangs out is something I need to avoid at all costs. This is the first and last time I’ll be coming to the Pink Albatross.

“It’s been a while since we last talked,” he eventually says like I’m some long-lost friend and not a member of his staff that he pays to keep quiet or a girl he has trapped in a god awful situation. “Business is booming. I’ve been kept busy.”

“I’m glad for you,” I respond, sarcasm dripping from every word.

This dirtbag has laid claim to the remains of the HH crew after the King was murdered just over a year ago. Jeb has taken the King’s place in the criminal hierarchy given his only surviving heir, Monk, is in prison. Jeb was always an opportunist prick. Looks like he’s branching out. Rumour has it that Asia and a few guys from Oceanside Academy got away and are living their best life somewhere far, far away from here. Good. I’m glad someone got out of this shit-stain of a life we live. It gives me hope.

“Spoke to David recently, Penelope?” he asks, changing the subject and shattering that hope as surely as Jeb’s fist could break my face if he felt the urge to hit me. I wouldn’t put it past him. I flinch, both at the mention of my brother and the fact he uses my full name just like David always does because he knows how much I hate it.

“No.”

“Next time he calls, answer. I need his head in the game and not thinking about his pretty little sister… Ah, fuck!” he exclaims, his eyes snapping shut and his jaw going slack as he comes suddenly and violently. I’ve never been more grateful for someone’s orgasm as I am right now, another minute listening to the noises of Jeb getting a blowjob and I would’ve hurled. I keep my face blank as the girl who’s been on her knees beneath the table reveals herself. She’s boyish to look at despite her short, skin-tight dress. With a spiky blonde pixie cut, square jaw, flat chest and tattoos covering her arms she’s androgynous, hinting at Jeb’s preferred sexual tastes. Without warning, he grabs the girl by the back of her neck and slams her face against the table. I jump at the sudden brutality, but the girl doesn’t make a sound.

“A word of advice, if you’re lucky enough to suck my cock another time then make sure you pay attention to my balls as well as my dick. I pay you to get me off, not test my fucking patience. Got it?” He lets her go, and she wipes at her eye, swiping away at the tear I see glistening on her lashes. The poor girl didn’t stand a chance. It’s a miracle she got him off at all.

“I’m sorry,” she mutters.

“See yourself out, Charlie,” he says, not bothering to hide the fact that he’s already bored of her company. She slides out of the booth, not meeting my eyes.

“As I was saying, speak to your brother. He’s volatile when he’s angry and I need him to keep his cool whilst he’s dealing with my business in Mexico.”

“Fine,” I say, hating that I’m taking orders from this prick again. Not that I ever really stopped. Once Jeb owns you, there’s no getting away from him.

Jeb shifts towards me, looking me up and down. “I understand that David’s not happy about the Breakers being back, but I really don’t give a shit. He’ll have to suck it the fuck up. I’m the leader of the Skins, not him, and they’re here on business for me. You might want to remind him of that fact, and do whatever you need to do to reassure him, so he doesn’t come back here and fuck up my plans.”

“Why don’t you tell him yourself?” I retort, more afraid of my brother’s response than Jeb’s. Jeb might kill me for my insolence with a gunshot between the eyes, but David will take great pleasure in killing me slowly. I try not to shiver at the thought.

With lightning speed, Jeb grabs my jaw and squeezes it tight, his fingernails biting into my skin, a reminder of who he is and what he’s capable of. “Because, I asked you. Don’t forget who I am, and who I own, Penelope.”

I nod my head, my throat constricting. “I haven’t forgotten.”

He nods, seemingly satisfied enough with my response to let me go. I don’t rub at the pain in my jaw. I refuse to give him the satisfaction that he hurt me.

“And another thing, don’t get too comfortable with the Breakers being back. Like I said, they’re here doing business for me and don’t need any distractions.”

“Business that involves Stardom Academy?” I question, knowing I’m taking a risk by asking, but doing it anyway.

“Business that has fuck all to do with you. Stay out of it, Penelope. Understand?”

“Yes,” I mutter, waiting for permission to leave, because you can’t just get up and go where Jeb is concerned. No one does anything without his say so. Not unless you want to end up as fish food somewhere in the English Channel.

“Hmm…” His gaze roves over me again and I have to suffer the sting of his interest. My skin prickles and my stomach churns. I swallow down the bile burning my throat as an evil smile carves across his face. “Such a beautiful girl, even without all that makeup you have on tonight. No wonder the Breakers lost their heads over you,” he muses.

Balling my hands beneath the table, I bite down on all the things I wish I could say. I’ve never felt beautiful thanks to my mum and brother, so being called beautiful by a man I despise makes my skin go cold. My gaze flicks to the glass tumbler. I imagine smashing it against the table and using a shard of broken glass to slash his throat. Then I remember the gun and my itching fingers still.

Jeb’s dark eyes flash with amusement like he knows exactly what I’m thinking. “That fire in your eyes is going to get you in serious trouble one of these days,” he muses, then picks up his mobile phone from the table when it pings with a message. Not looking up from his phone, he dismisses me. “You can go. Talk to your brother.”

Pausing at the entrance to the booth, I remember that I haven’t thanked him for the drinks he bought Clancy and I earlier, and even though it makes me sick to my stomach thanking him for anything, I do so anyway. “Thank you for the cocktails.”

He cocks his head to the side and smiles darkly. “You and I both know that I don’t buy anyone a drink unless I want something in return, and despite your beauty, you’re not really my style.”

“But who then…?” I mumble, smarting at the look he gives me.

“I don’t know nor care, you shouldn’t either if you know what’s good for you,” he says, lifting his eyes to meet mine. “Do you need reminding of what happens if you don’t follow the rules?

I swallow hard, understanding the threat well enough. “No. I don’t need reminding.”

“Good, and Penelope…”

“Yes?”

He reaches into his jacket, pulling out a wad of notes clipped together with a silver bar and chucks it across the table at me. There’s got to be at least a grand there. “Buy yourself a cocktail dress. Make sure it’s short and tight.”

“What for?” I murmur, my throat tightening as I pick up the money with trembling hands.

“Isn’t it obvious? I need you to look pretty. Be ready next Saturday night at eight and bring an overnight bag.” With that he dismisses me with a flick of his hand, just like the prostitute who was sucking his cock a few minutes ago.