Broken English (Broken Lives Book 1) (10 page)

“Take hers home, then return here around
one. She’ll be awake by then. We can drop ye off to get yer car.”

I nodded and left the house, a little
perplexed by his conflicting personality. Maybe the man wasn’t as bad as I’d
originally thought. I jumped back into the Mini and turned on the radio, what
was playing wrenching my thoughts away from Paul.
California Love
—the
song from Dante’s boom-box
.
My thoughts returned to Dante, what Helen
had said about him being a prostitute making me think... I shook my head and started
up the car engine, dismissing the ridiculous notion instantly.

9

DANTE

I opened my eyes and glanced around the
room, wondering where I was. I was lying on a massive bed that felt like heaven
and smelt like sex. The previous night came back to me in a glorious rush,
making me smile wider than the Joker. I’d fucked Sierra and her ‘BFF’ all night
long, the two of them giving me the wildest sex I’d ever had.

Wondering where they were, I pushed up
onto my hands and scanned the room, looking for opportunities rather than the
women. The bedroom was even bigger than my lounge and considerably cleaner. No
stale smoke permeated the air, just a fresh-smelling room with a whole lot of
expensive shit that made my fingers twitch. My gaze landed on the dresser with
a massive fold-out mirror, the surface reflecting half the room. I glanced at
the door, listening out for any noises. When I didn’t hear anything, I jumped out
of bed and padded into the ensuite, checking that the women weren’t in the
bathroom. Not finding anyone, I headed back into the bedroom, aiming for the
dresser. The surface was lined with pots of makeup and other products,
everything colour coordinated and labelled. I swapped a couple of the colours
around, making sure the labels faced the front, wondering whether Sierra’s OCD
arse would notice what I’d done.

Amused, I opened the top drawer, finding
knickers and G-strings inside. Like with the makeup, everything was arranged by
colour as well as folded perfectly. The bedroom door creaked open, making me
spin around. Sierra was leaning against the doorframe, with her arms crossed
over her chest.

She shook her head at me. “You weren’t
going to steal from me were you, Dante?”

“Only a lacy memento.” I pulled out a red G-string
and put the waistband between my teeth, making a growling sound.

She laughed and walked over to me. Her snow-white
hair was piled high on her head in a perfect bun that was just asking to be
messed up. My gaze lowered down her curvy body, having enjoyed every inch of it
last night. She was wearing a white dress with gold trim, her fake tits as
usual trying to burst free.

She pulled the G-string out of my mouth
and refolded it, placing it back into the drawer. “Get your clothes on; Camie’s
made a delicious meal for us.”

I looked down at my dick with a grin. “How
’bout you snack on this?”

Her perfectly painted red lips pulled up
into a wicked grin. “Only if you don’t mind me biting it off.” She snapped her
perfect teeth together. “’Cause I’m starving.”

I covered my woody. “Hey! Be nice to baby
Rata.”

Looking amused, she walked over to the
door. “Just get dressed, cutie pie. Camie and I have to pick her husband up at
the airport.”

My eyebrows shot up, disappearing into the
mess called my hair. “She’s married?”

“Yes.” Sierra indicated to the shower.
“So, clean up and be out within five minutes.”

“Can’t I just stay ’ere until you get
back?”

“Not if I want half my house stripped down
and sold off.” She pointed at me. “I locked everything valuable away before
coming out to get you, nimble fingers.”

I poked my tongue out at her, not really
insulted, because it was the truth.

She leered at me. “You’ve got quite the
tongue on you. From now on, I’m going to be calling on you for more than drugs.”
She turned and disappeared out the door, yelling, “Hurry up, cutie pie!”

I padded over to the bathroom again and took
a quick shower, then grabbed my clothes, surprised to find them washed and
ironed. I glanced at the clock, doing a double-take. It was almost two o’clock
in the afternoon. But then again, we
had
fucked all night long, plus I
did have a habit of sleeping in on Saturdays.

I slipped my clothes on, then headed back
to the dresser, stealing the G-string I’d pulled out earlier. I stuffed it into
my backpack for my collection, wishing I could’ve gotten one from Camie too.
Jasper was going to freak when I told him I had a threesome.

I left the room, smelling fried heaven. My
nose pulled me to the dining room, crispy bacon serenading me. I walked through
the doorway, spotting Sierra sitting at a massive table with a candelabra in
the middle. On her left was a plate full of scrambled eggs, bacon, mushrooms,
and tomatoes, hopefully waiting for
moi
. In front of it was a carafe of
juice, as well as a plate of toast and a pot of coffee.

I placed a hand on my crotch and groaned
loudly. “I think I just came in my pants.”

Sierra picked up a bread roll and threw it
at me, which I caught. “Sit your cute butt down and eat before Camie starts
panicking,” she said.

I dumped my backpack on the marble floor and
slipped into the chair, my stomach growling at the glorious sight before me. Not
needing to be asked twice, I tucked into the banquet, stuffing as much into my
mouth as I could get in.

“Good God, Dante!” Sierra said. “Slow down
or you’ll choke, we’re not in
that
much of a hurry.”

“I’m starving,” I said through a mouthful.

She screwed up her nose. “Don’t talk while
you have half the plate in your mouth.”

Not caring, I continued eating, only
stopping to gulp some coffee down. I almost spat it out, the taste making my
eyes screw up. I grabbed the tablecloth and wiped my tongue on it.

Sierra leaned over and smacked my arm.
“Stop that!”

I grimaced. “Not my fault you ruined
heaven with hell.”

“What are you talking about?”

“That coffee has mint in it. Who puts mint
in coffee?
Gross
.”

She smiled. “I love mint.”

“In gum and toothpaste,
not
coffee.” I grabbed the carafe of juice and started chugging it down to get rid
of the taste.

“You’re an oaf,” she said.

Ignoring her, I put the carafe down and resumed
eating my food, while Sierra ate her chicken salad. Camie appeared through the
doorway on my right. She was wearing different clothes from the night before, a
soft floral dress and sandals, their leather straps wrapping around her calves.
She looked freshly showered and hot as hell, even more than Sierra. I knew it
was because she reminded me of my English teacher, so much so that at one point
during the night I’d pretended she was Mrs. Hatton, coming quicker than I’d
wanted to. But it didn’t matter, because the two women had gotten me hard again
within no time.

I smiled at Camie, causing her face to
flush, the woman changing from the tiger in bed back to the pussy cat I’d met outside
the pub. My gaze dropped to her hand, remembering Sierra had said her friend
was married. There was a ring on her wedding finger that hadn’t been there the
night before. I lifted my gaze back up, the realisation of what I’d been
looking at clear on her face.

With a guilty as sin expression, she
grabbed a purse off a side cabinet. “We have to go now, Sierra.” She took off
out the door, yelling, “Meet me at the car.”

“Can’t she just pick her husband up by
herself?” I asked.

“He’s expecting the both of us.”

“I’ll make it worth your time if you don’t
go.” I ran my tongue over my upper lip. Her eyes zeroed in on my mouth, looking
like she was contemplating it, but instead she shook her head, regret thinning
out her red lips.

“I wish I could, but he’s my father, so I
have to be there.”

My eyebrows skyrocketed up. “Your best
friend is married to your dad? Why would she wanna marry an old wrinkly?”

Sierra threw more bread at me, the roll
bouncing off my chest. “Hey! I’m not that old.”

“You’re ’bout my dad’s age, which would
make your father at least in his late-forties, but since you’re not a South Aucklander,
I’d say he’ll either be in his fifties or sixties.”

She frowned at me. “I’m thirty-two, which
would mean your dad would’ve been thirteen or fourteen when he conceived you.”

“I said
about
his age. He’s in his
mid-thirties. He had me when he wuz sixteen.”
A lie.
“And why are you
helping your friend to cheat on your dad?”

“It’s not cheating. They have an open-marriage,
which means they can fuck whoever they want as long as it doesn’t interfere
with their relationship. Though, you’re the first guy Camie has done apart from
my father. She’s quite shy.”

“Not in bed,” I sniggered.

Sierra chuckled. “I have to agree with
that, she’s quite a firecracker. It rather surprised me.” She pointed her fork
at me. “And
you
were focusing on her
too
much. I had to fight for
your attention. Do you think she’s prettier than me?”

“No.”
Another lie.
“She just
reminds me of a chick I’m dying to fuck.”
Not a lie.

“Good answer,” she said. “Because you’re
mine, not hers.”

My mouth twitched with amusement. “I’m
yours?”

“You bet you are, cutie pie.”

A car horn beeped loudly.

“Sounds like my dearest stepmother is getting
annoyed with us for taking so long.” Sierra pushed out of her chair and headed
for an antique cabinet, removing an envelope from a drawer. “I popped in a little
extra for last night,” she said, handing it to me. She walked off, telling me
to finish my food quick.

More interested with what she’d given me, I
opened the envelope, my eyes bugging out at the money inside. I counted it,
finding a grand. She reappeared, wearing sunglasses and holding a handbag.

I looked up at her. “But you already paid
me for the coke.”

“That’s not for the coke, honey.”

“Huh?”

“It’s for your other services.”

“What services?”

“Stop playing coy with me, cutie, it’s
time for you to go.”

She yanked me out of the chair by my arm and
shoved my backpack at my chest, then pushed me towards the door. I let her do
it, the realisation she’d paid me for sex finally dawning on me. I wanted to
yell at her that I wasn’t a ho, but was too stunned. I hadn’t fucked her and
Camie for money; I’d done it for fun.

When we got to the door, I stuffed my feet
into my boots on autopilot. Upset started to creep in, a slow hum that steadily
grew. Sierra pulled me over to her white Beemer, where Camie was sitting behind
the wheel.

“Will it be all right if I drop you off at
a bus stop in Manukau or Papatoe?” Camie asked. “We’re running late.”

I nodded without thinking, still too
stunned to say a word.

Sierra pushed me towards the back seat.
“Get in, Dante.”

I climbed in, Sierra taking the front passenger
seat next to Camie. As Camie drove up the steep driveway, I looked back at the
huge estate, with its massive walls and manicured lawns, a touch of France in
the midst of Auckland. Tall trees framed both sides of the driveway like
centurions protecting the entranceway. I could almost imagine diamonds dripping
off their leaves instead of dew, the place unreal to me.

The women started talking about something,
the money in my hand still silencing me. I tightened my grip on the envelope,
wondering why they thought I was a whore. Had I agreed to something last night?
I didn’t think so. Although I’d been drinking and snorting coke, I’d been lucid
the whole time, more into fucking the women than getting off my face. Which
meant it wasn’t something I’d said, suggesting I either looked like a whore or
they’d heard the false rumours that Happy Meal had spread. And since they were
too old for school that only left one thing...

I looked like a whore.

Sierra glanced back at me, saying
something I couldn’t take in, only the slight rise of her voice at the end
suggesting it was a question. I nodded to whatever she’d asked, feeling like
throwing up. She clapped and bounced in her seat like a little girl who’d
gotten her way. Camie laughed nervously, the woman’s gaze flicking to me in the
rearview mirror. Her nervous smile fell, her lips moving without meaning. A
worried frown followed, pulling at the corners of her lips and eyes. She glanced
at Sierra, indicating to me with her head.

Sierra turned to look at me again. “What’s
wrong, Dante?” she asked, also appearing concerned.

“I feel sick.” I grabbed for the door handle
as the car emerged from the driveway, but couldn’t open it, the child lock on.
I started to panic, screaming,
“Lemme out!”

Camie swerved over to the side of the road,
coming to a sudden stop. I jumped out and bent over the grass, throwing up my
breakfast.

Sierra emerged from the car. “God, Dante,
are you all right?” she asked, placing a hand on my back.

I threw up again, Sierra rubbing my back
in circles.

“Is he okay?” Camie asked from behind us.

I wiped my mouth on the back of my sleeve
and turned to grab my backpack out of the car, unable to look at them. I
stuffed the envelope of money into it and slung the bag over a shoulder,
heading off without saying a word. I had no idea where I was, other than it was
a posh neighbourhood out east. It was probably Whitford, since the countryside
was populated with large houses too spectacular to belong to farmers. Plus, I
could see the sea on my left, which meant I was a long way from home. But I couldn’t
stay in the car with them, not even for another second.