Read Behind the Hood (Behind the Lives) Online
Authors: Marita A. Hansen
Mikey’s mouth fell open. “What wuz I doin’?”
She smiled. “You’re kidding me? You really don’t remember?”
“No, I wuz shitfaced.”
“Good, then you probably won’t remember me comin’ onto you and you turnin’ me down flat.”
Mikey shifted in his seat.
The girl started laughing. “You should see your face. Fuckin’ hilarious. I’m just kidding. I never came onto you. Your cousin hit on me as soon as I walked in. Though, if I had half a brain I would’ve ignored him and gone for you instead.”
Gross. There was no way he would have done her. Although the chick looked different, she reminded him of Aroha Summers. That old bird hit on anything with a dick.
She held out a hand. “By the way, my name’s Stella.”
Mikey ignored it. “What did I do with those chicks?”
“They were all over you on the couch. You guys were shameless.”
“Nah, that don’t sound right. You sure you’re not mistaking me for someone else?”
“Nope, it was you alright. And I don’t know why you’re lookin’ so upset for. You seemed to be havin’ a pretty good time. Is it cos of Maia? Are you sweet on her?”
“No!”
“Bullshit.”
“What difference does it make? She won’t like me now after I chased her with Tama and the gang. I didn’t want to, but Tama would’ve gotten mad,” he garbled nervously. “But I didn’t know he wuz gonna hurt her. I just thought he wuz muckin’ about.” Man, why’d he say that? It wasn’t like she needed to know he was a loser.
Stella shook her head. “You need to grow some balls and say no to your cousin.”
Mikey dropped his gaze. Fuck, he felt ashamed.
“Oh honey, I didn’t mean to upset you. It was nice that you came to say sorry to Maia.”
He turned to look at Maia. “How’s she doin’?”
“Not wonderful. She was screaming loads this morning. Plus, she bloody puked on me. The nurse gave her some drugs to make her feel better, but she zonked out.”
Mikey stood up. He needed to get out. He felt awful that he’d been a part of hurting Maia.
“Don’t go, love. Tama’s a mean bastard. I’m sure you could do nuthin’.”
Yeah, he did nothing to stop it. Mikey turned to leave.
“Don’t go, Mikey!”
He stopped and looked down at Maia. “Tell her I’m sorry, will ya?”
“Sure.”
He picked up Maia’s hand and ran a thumb over her knuckles.
“You alright?” Stella asked.
“No.” He laid Maia’s hand down and lumbered out of the room. As he approached the elevator, he saw Nike and his wife walking down the corridor. In a panic, Mikey repeatedly hit the elevator button until it opened, then pushed past an old man and woman exiting. The man yelled at him and jammed his cane into the closing door. He kicked the cane out and whacked the ground floor button, praying that Nike hadn’t seen him. He didn’t need a beating to make him feel even worse than he already did.
16
Since Maia was sleeping, Nike left Jess and Jake with his mother at the hospital, and headed for the Ratas’ place. He didn’t know how he was going to deal with Sledge. He didn’t want to upset Ash, but he couldn’t let Sledge get away with what he’d done. Maia was just a kid and Sledge was bigger than Tama; he could have stopped him if he’d wanted to.
Nike pulled the van over to the kerb, jumped out, and headed through the gates. He was surprised that Ash put up with living in Pleasant Parade. With the amount of money Ash paid him, it looked like the Rata brothers were making a killing from their business. But then again, Dante probably snorted all the profits. Nike ran a finger over the bullet holes in Dante’s red Holden, wondering whether they were drug related or if Dante had slept with someone’s wife again.
Loud rap music started playing from inside the house, swiftly followed by Ash yelling, “Turn that fuckin’ shite off!” The music amped up as Nike walked across the lawn. He jumped up the stairs and knocked on the front door, wondering whether anyone would hear him over the boom of the stereo. When no one answered he knocked again.
The music stopped, followed by approaching footsteps. The door pulled back and Sledge stared out with a surprised expression.
All of Nike’s pent up rage over Maia’s attack rose at the sight of Sledge’s bull-faced mug. He launched himself at the youngest Rata. Sledge let out a holler as he went down. After a few solid punches, someone yanked Nike off Sledge and threw him onto the couch.
Nike looked up at Dante, the tattoo around his left eye all the more menacing. Sledge’s brother was wearing his usual black leathers and an expression that said, “I gonna rip your fuckin’ head off.” Nike could also see a large fist heading for his face.
“Dante, stop!”
Dante halted an inch away from Nike’s nose.
Relieved to hear his mate’s voice, Nike glanced over at Ash as he exited the passage. Ash had a towel wrapped around his wet body, his curving tattoos prominent against his olive-brown skin.
“What the fuck’s goin’ on?” Ash yelled.
“He attacked Sledge.” Dante indicated with his head towards their younger brother, who lay on the ground clutching his nose.
Disbelief coloured Ash’s face. “Whatcha do that for?”
Nike wrenched his jacket out of Dante’s grip and went to stand up. Dante pushed him back down.
Nike scowled at Dante then looked over at Ash. “He chased my sis with Tama, and helped kick down the door where she wuz trapped.”
Ash’s face darkened. He grabbed Sledge by his hoodie, and dragged his howling brother over to the couch.
Dante shook his head at Nike. “You touch him again and Ash won’t be able to stop me.”
Nike sneered. Dante knew exactly what he was thinking.
Ash crossed his arms over his chest and stared down at Sledge. Although Ash was twenty-four, a few years older than Dante, he looked more like his twin, with his jet-black hair, dark eyes, and imposing build.
“Is this right, bro?” Ash asked Sledge. “You helped Tama hurt Nike’s sis?”
Sledge’s hands remained over his nose. “No.”
“Fuckin’ liar!” Nike lunged for Sledge.
Dante grabbed Nike and threw him onto the floor. Nike’s head hit the TV cabinet. Dante raised his boot.
“No!” Ash shoved his brother before he could stomp down.
Dante turned on Ash and pushed him back. “I told him not to touch Sledge!”
Ash placed his hands on his brother’s shoulders. “Chill. Nike’s sis almost died last night. Lighten up on him, okay?”
“I don’t fuckin’ care, he hurt Sledge.”
“Just leave; I’ll take care of it.”
“Not if that prick keeps attacking my li’l bro.”
Ash let out a frustrated sigh. “Then sit next to Sledge.”
Dante grunted and sat down on the leather couch. He placed an arm around Sledge’s shoulders and glared at Nike.
Nike got to his feet and touched the back of his head. Blood smeared his hand. Shit, Jess was going to do her nut when she saw him. He wiped it on his top, now dreading going home.
“I didn’t know Tama wuz gonna stab her,” Sledge’s muffled voice broke the silence. “I thought he wuz just after a bit of pussy—”
Before Nike could react, Ash whacked his brother across the head. Sledge let out a howl. Dante got up and pushed Ash, who shoved him back down.
Ash pointed a finger at Dante. “Stay down; I’m in charge not you.”
Dante got back up and chested Ash. “Sledge said nuthin’ wrong. Why the hell didja hit him for?”
Ash moved his face to within an inch of Dante’s. “Cos Nike’s sis is fourteen.”
Dante flinched. His gaze dropped to Sledge, his expression now uneasy. “But she’s only a few years younger than Sledge and Tama,” he added, his voice sounding uncertain.
Ash looked at Dante like he was stupid. “What ... you think it’s alright to fuck a kid?”
Dante shook his head. “No, I didn’t say that. But Sledge is a kid too and he didn’t touch her. It’s different from what happened to you.”
“What happened to you?” Sledge asked.
Ash ignored him. “He is
not
a kid. Nike’s the same age, and he’s married with a baby. Sledge needs to grow up and stop hanging out with scum.”
“Tama’s my mate,” Sledge yelled. “Don’t slag him off.”
Ash sidestepped Dante and placed his hands on either side of Sledge’s head. He leaned forward. “He attacked your sister and you’re defending him.”
Sledge sunk further into the couch. Blood smeared his face, his nose was swollen, and he looked like he was going to piss himself.
“Tama didn’t attack her, she lied. She tried to fuck him while he wuz sleeping. She screamed when he pushed her off.”
“And you believe him?”
“Shit, yeah. Juliet’s always comin’ onto him, but he doesn’t fancy her. Says it would be like fuckin’ me with a wig on and he’s no homo.”
Dante laughed. Ash glared at him.
Dante grinned. “What? It’s funny. She does look like Sledge in drag.”
Ash massaged his forehead. “Just go home, Nike. I’ll talk to ya tomorrow.”
Nike shook his head. “Not until Sledge tells me everyone who wuz involved.”
“I’m not a fuckin’ nark,” Sledge yelled.
Ash punched the couch next to Sledge’s head. “Tell him. Now!”
“Trey, Naf, Mikey, and Corey.”
Ash looked at Nike. “Good enough?”
“What’s Trey last name?” Nike asked.
“Phillips,” Sledge grumbled.
“I thought it wuz him.”
“Good, now leave so I can have a chat with Sledge,” Ash said.
Nike nodded and headed out the front door. As he walked across the grass he heard both Sledge and Dante holler at Ash to stop. He didn’t know what Ash was doing (exactly), but by the noises coming from the house he knew one thing—justice was being served.
17
Jess was setting the table when the ranch-slider opened and Nike stepped inside. There was blood on his face and shirt.
She dumped the cutlery, and ran over to him. “Oh God, Nike, what have ya done?”
He held out his hands. “It’s not what ya think. I did nuthin’ wrong.”
Yeah, right! She was going to CSI his arse. “Whose blood is that?”
“Mine and Sledge’s.”
He sidestepped her and headed for the table, his eyes fixated on the food. Sliced ham, mashed potatoes, and peas were laid out on two plates, while a banana poi pudding sat in the centre of the table. He reached for a piece of ham.
“Stop! You’ve got blood on your hands!” Jess smacked him. “What’re ya thinking?”
“I didn’t.” He turned and strode down the passage and into the bathroom.
She ran after him, noticing more blood matting his hair. “What happened to your head?” she asked, closing the door behind her.
“I banged it.”
Nike undressed as Jess tried to check the wound. He stopped to swat her hands away. “Stop fussing, woman.”
“No! Lemme have a look.”
“Lay off, it’s just a bloody scratch.”
Shit, he was annoying. Everything was just a “scratch” to him even if it required stitches. He’d needed ten for one particular scratch a few weeks back from a rugby match.