#rowvember2020

“Mr Vogel, your guests are here to see you.”

“Thanks Jamie, send them in.” Dane replied, but he wasn’t truly paying attention, he had a migraine coming on, the restoration of the church in Saints Row was going to be more expensive than what was first thought, it had been completely gutted. Say what you want about the Boss, but the psychopath was thorough. The door to the office swung open, and Dane looked up from the damage reports to see Dex Jackson and Troy Bradshaw storming in, neither happy to be around the other.

“Whadd’ya want Vogel?” Troy snapped, and Dane spied the wound dressing peeking out from under his hat. He stood, and shook each hand in turn, plastering a smile onto his face.

“Gentlemen! Thanks for coming by.”

“Whadd’ya want Vogel?” Troy repeated, slower this time before he took his hand back and crossed his arms.

“Why? You got somewhere to be Bradshaw?” Dex asked, and Dane’s eyes flicked between the two of them as Troy’s head whipped round.

“How about protecting Stilwater from the Sociopaths you two have pissed off?”

“Why? What’s Shea done now?” Dex asked pointedly, and Troy stared at him.

“I wasn’t talkin’ about Shea, but since you mentioned her specifically, let’s talk. You really thought the Masako were gonna take her out?! Really?!”

“The Masako are highly trained.” Dane interrupted, more to dwell on his train of thought than defend Dex’s plan, and Troy looked round at him.

“Yeah and that bitch doesn’t know how to die.” he answered, before rounding back on Dex, “All you’ve done is piss her the fuck off, and I paid for it.” he said, pointing at his head, and Dex also crossed his arms, eyebrow raised.

“But did you die though?”

“No but Julius did. The man comes to you for protection and you sell him out?”

“He was bad for business. They both are.” Dex sighed, and Dane thought that right there, Dex had a point. Troy however, very much didn’t.

“The list of people you’re screwin’ over is getting’ longer Dex, I don’t like it.”

“I worked hard to get where I am now, I’m not letting anyone get in the way of that.”

“Well congratulations, you’re squarely on her shit list. I’ll tell you right now Dex, money don’t mean anythin’ when you’re dead.”

“Providing she doesn’t get taken out fighting the gang war.” Dex shrugged, and Troy shook his head.

“I wouldn’t count on that.”

“Why not? Johnny’s got laid out didn’t he? Nobody’s untouchable, which reminds me-” Dex paused, turning to face Dane. “-why aren’t you getting your clients on that?”

“What and make a slaughterhouse out of a hospital? That’s the last thing this city needs.”

“That’s the first thing you’ve said that I’ve ever agreed with.” Troy muttered, he sighed and began to pace.

“Besides, he’s very protected.” Dane added, he had been told that the Saints leader was there day and night, and when she was called away for whatever reason, some Saints were posted at the door. Nobody got in or out of that room without O’Connor knowing about it. And while Dane was told by the staff at the hospital that they were worried, apparently the Saints hadn’t been any trouble. “Nobody’s getting to Johnny Gat to do him harm.” he said, more to Dex than Troy, and Dex looked at the floor and laughed, shaking his head.

“Of course.”

“Now if you two are finished? How about we get to the meat of the issue?” Dane asked, striding out from behind his desk.

“Yeah, sounds good. So you started makin’ deals with the Brotherhood as well as the Ronin now?”

“Mr Maero came to me with a very lucrative partnership where-”

“You were gonna screw him over, and now the Saints have the guns. You keep edging your bets, and you keep losin’ Vogel.”

“Everything is under control.” Dane snapped, smoothing down the front of his suit, and Troy laughed, which made annoyance burn at the pit of his stomach.

“So you planned for the Oyabun, and Jyunichi’s death right?”

“The Ronin are the strongest organisation in Stilwater apart from Ultor.”

“Right, and the strongest after that are the Saints.”

“Without Johnny?” Dex scoffed.

“It wasn’t Johnny that decimated the Samedi, the Brotherhood and Ronin are through, they just don’t know it yet. Eh Vogel,” Troy said, addressing him, “you always want to be on the winning side? You’re backing the wrong horses.”

         As much as Dane didn’t want to admit it, Troy did have a point, but what was his game? If Vogel went into business with the Saints, he had no doubt he’d be able to curb them. The Saints leader was obviously loyal to a fault, as both Dex and Troy could attest, so she wasn’t a terribly smart woman. The problem was that she had sunk too much into the Ronin, and didn’t fancy burning that bridge yet, not when the money was still coming in.

“No. We are not working with Shea O’Connor.” Dex’s voice broke him from his thoughts, his eyes steely, “believe me, been there, done that.”

“But did you die though?” Troy cut in with a smirk, and Dex glared, and Dane rolled his eyes, they were getting off topic again.

“Gentleman, I’d hate to disrupt whatever this is, but I called you here for another reason. I have no plans to extend a hand to the Saints, now can we please-?” Dane asked, gesturing towards the greenscreen on the wall and tapping a button on his laptop, while the first mock ups of Shivington’s restoration flickered into view.

“Let’s hear it.” Dex said, his eyes travelling across the wall, making sense on what he was seeing.

“Now Shivington-” he began, when Troy’s mobile rang, and Dane glared at him, not that Troy was bothered, he smiled right in Dane’s face.

“Excuse me.” he said, then turned and walked to the other side of the room to look out at the view there, and Dane and Dex waited.

“What the fuck?!” he suddenly exclaimed, “Jesus H fuckin’ Christ!” he pressed the mute button on his phone before he stormed back over.

“What’s happening, what’s going on?” Dex asked, and Troy pointed at Vogel.

“You better reign in those fuckin’ Ronin! They’ve fuckin’ gone and done it! They’ve gone after Johnny Gat!”

        Dane reeled from that, and his mouth rapidly went dry as his heart started to ace in his chest, his suit becoming uncomfortably hot as he lowered his eyes to his laptop and began typing, looking for the news, any news. He didn’t sanction this! God dammit Shogo! I told you you couldn’t get to him! He thought, his hands beginning to shake.

“Yeah?” Troy asked, putting his phone back to his ear, and his face became a myriad of expression, as Dane paused and waited for the next piece of information that would no doubt shake all his plans. And Troy returned his phone to his pocket before addressing Dane again.

No matter how many years have passed, she knew that The Circle would remain the same, she needed that right now, seeing the corporate shell The Row had become had rocked her to the core and she was scared to see what had happened to the area first hand, to see what they might have done to the church.

         Some of the best days of her life lay with The Row, some of the most life changing events she had gone through were all tied to there, and maybe it was cowardice and fear that was keeping her away but she didn’t know if she was strong enough to handle the change when it felt like she had only been to her Row yesterday. Seeing the shell The Row had become only seemed to back up what Carlos had been saying: The Saints were gone. The buildings she knew were gone. But going there and seeing it would mean that everything she’d fought for, losing Lin, that had all amounted to nothing.

She only wanted to pretend for a little while longer.

          As she got to the back alley where the entrance lay, she noticed two men, one smoking a cigarette, the other eyeing her carefully as she approached, and she smiled, hoping they wouldn’t mind the bright orange jumpsuit too much, she couldn’t wait to see Alan, or even Luke, she just needed a friendly face right now. Instead of passing by, however, Shea was grabbed and slammed against the nearest wall, another indication that maybe things had changed even more than she thought.

“Ow! Hey what the fuck? I’m a regular!” she snarled, her cheek scraping against the brickwork as she struggled.

“Oh really, never seen you before in my life.” one said, as the other patted her down and found her two pistols.

“I don’t get it Mac, guns say pig, jumpsuit says convict, tatts say gang-banger.”

“What?”

“Yeah, and you won’t believe what else.” said not Mac, and she felt her hair being swept from her neck, probably to stare at the fleur-de-lis tatted there.

“Wow. Haven’t seen one of those in a while. How about you tell us who you are, little lady?” he asked, lifting her higher off the floor when he noticed her planting her feet ready to fight back, she changed tack, instead she threw an elbow out, catching the guard in the face so he dropped her. “Whoah, we ain’t going to hurt ya, just need to know who comes and goes now.”

“Touch me again and I’ll twist your fucking balls off!” she warned, her chest heaving, and she doubled over, lamenting how weak her body had gotten now, she used to be able to push herself for way longer than this, this was not good at all. What, she only had one good jailbreak in her now? What the fuck was this bullshit?

“Why don’t you ask Alan Carlisle?” she snapped, and she heard them fall silent, tension in the air before there was a beep.

“Er Boss? We kinda need you up here to deal with this one.” Not Mac said, “We got a fighter.”

“Oh you have no idea.” Shea replied, pacing back and forth on the spot. There was a few moments as they stood, staring at each other before they heard footsteps come up the stairs, and Shea turned to see who it was. Her shock was mirrored in his face as he laid eyes on her too.

“Shea?!” He asked, and a whole wave of emotions surged through her, relief, joy, fear and guilt, and she ran, throwing her arms around Luke’s neck, felt him freeze before lifting his arms to hug her back loosely, so Shea coughed and stepped back, feeling the awkwardness.

“Not gonna lie, I thought you’d be a little bit happier to see me than this.” she said, her heart sinking, in her world they’d fucked for the last time two weeks ago, but with five years in between, he’d have to have realised that it was for the best right?

         He stared at her, and he was just as handsome as when she’d left him, maybe even more so now, he’d had more tattoos done, and he had cut his long hair shorter, shaved at the sides, where his dark hair was starting to grey already and Shea liked, Shea liked way too much. He tore his eyes away to regard Mac and not Mac, giving a nod.

“I’m taking her upstairs, tell Jase to mind the bar.”

“Sure thing.” they answered, and Luke nodded again, before clapping a hand to his neck and grimacing as he cricked it out. He still did that apparently, one time he had cricked it without supporting it with his hand and had hurt himself for weeks after.

“Come on, and keep it down, my kids are asleep.”

“Kids?!” Shea blurted out before she could stop herself, and he turned and glared, “sorry.” she apologised, then followed him into the old shop above The Circle stairs.

       Well it wasn’t the old shop anymore, it was quite a spacious little house, with clean white furniture and greenery and by God, Shea didn’t belong here at all. She perched carefully on a sofa, and Luke disappeared for a few minutes before coming back with some clothes and throwing them at her.

“What are these?” she asked, and Luke crossed the room to his drinks cabinet, by the looks of things, seeing as though he poured a hefty whiskey and downed it in one, cringing.

“Clothes.” he said.

“Funny, you” Shea replied, rolling her eyes, “any excuse to get me naked, is that it?” she teased.

“Er no. Unless you want to forever wander in a bright orange jumpsuit?” he asked, then pointed at the third door on the right, “bathrooms there.”

“We could skip the bathroom and head to the bedroom?” she asked, still keeping the flirty tone, and Luke, now throwing down a second drink down his throat, choked. He wheezed and spluttered, and Shea moved to thump him on the back but he moved back and held his hands up, he turned the left one round when he’d calmed down, and there Shea saw it, the ring on his wedding finger. He was married.

“Oh shit, I’m so sorry-is she-?”

“In that room there-yeah.” he nodded, pointing at the door he’d emerged from with the clothes and Shea hid her face with them, cringing hard.

“Fuck!” she whispered, though the swear lost none of the intensity.

“It’s alright….it’s not really your fault is it? If you could have come back before now...you would’ve come back?” he asked expectantly, and Shea lowered the clothes.

“Been in a coma until about...maybe three hours ago?” she said, and Luke sighed, looked at her and shook his head, close to tears.

“I can’t believe it.”

“What, that I wasn’t dead or I’ve just come out of a coma?” she asked, and she saw his eyes well up by the moonlight streaming in through the window.

“I lost you.”

“Wasn’t my intention.” she said, as if that helped.

“Well no, I don’t think you intended to get blown up on a yacht with Alderman Hughes, but it happened,” he replied, heat lacing his tone before he placed his face in his hands, “I’m not mad at you, by the way, it’s just that it’s been...difficult. I honestly don't know what I'd have done without Rach...sh-, she’s an angel.”

         He wasn’t looking at her when he said it, dragged his hands over his face and looked at anything but her, as if he was ashamed to even admit how he’d struggled, probably never thought he’d be able to tell her just how much everything had affected him. Fact was, back then, they’d never have talked like this anyway.

“Where’s Alan? Surely he’s been about?” she asked, and he froze again, and his eyes darted to her, and her heart jolted, she knew that look well, “no.” she denied it, shaking her head, saw Luke’s face grimace again and he promptly turned and marched back to his liquor cabinet as Shea struggled to process yet another hit to her emotions.

        She watched him for a few moments, before she couldn’t stand it anymore and hurried into his bathroom to get changed, flicking the light on and rushed to the sink, breathing fast and heavy, she fought herself for control, her fingertips white on the edge of the sink. She looked up, and caught her reflection in the mirror for the first time. And it was strange.

         She looked like herself, but she didn’t at the same time- she did look older- not hugely, but enough to make her stop and pause and stare. Her hair was too long, and uncared for,  the black waves a little bit feral looking, and her eyes were a little sunken in, making the amber truly stand out against the dark circles. Who thought that sleeping for five years meant you’d still look tired at the end of it? She tiptoed closer to the mirror, running her fingers over her face to reacquaint herself with it.

        She turned her head, her fingers continuing to trail downwards, over the fleur-de-lis on her neck before moving past her collarbone, pulling the jumpsuit zip down, seeing the raised bullet scar in between her tits. It was completely healed now, no longer red and angry. She touched her fingers to the scar too, she didn’t remember a time where it didn’t hurt to touch it, but here it was now, raised and bumpy and a shiny white, but physically not painful any longer..

          Sighing, she stepped away from the mirror and shifted out of the jumpsuit, and what she saw took her breath from her then too. Her legs were covered in gnarled, twisted skin, darker in some places and lighter in others. She raised her shaking hands and ran them over her thighs, and felt where smooth skin met burned, She sobbed before she could stop herself, but she had barely enough breath to sustain it so it came out as little more than a yelp before it died, and she covered her mouth, remembering that she was supposed to be quiet right now. Luke didn’t want her waking his wife and kids up too, and with good reason, she’d hide herself away too, what, with their history and who Shea was. She should be feeling lucky to be alive, but she didn’t know how any of this could be a blessing.

       There wasn’t any part of this that she didn’t hate, and tears fell and splashed on her thighs, and Shea, angered again by the state of herself slapped her hands on her legs, digging her nails into the flesh, or trying to- the skin graphs meant the skin there was tougher, so all that happened were the white indents her nails left. That pissed her off too so she balled her hands into fists and beat on her legs instead.

Bam

Hey you woke up, everything you know and love is gone, hope you’re over lin’s death!

Bam

Hey, you know like Lin’s dead? Alan’s dead now, and so might Johnny, who fucking knows?

Bam

Hey, why do you care your fuck buddy moved on, you ended it you stupid fucking cow.

Bam

Why did you even bother waking up? You knew you were on borrowed time since you left Lin like that.

Bam

And you know you fucking deserve all this too.

And Shea just wrapped her arms around herself and cried.

          There was a tiny knock on the door and she hissed back at Luke in reply, she was pretty sure it wasn’t any coherent language, but she figured that it’d convey what she needed it to do, and dragged the clothes on with intent. It wasn’t actually a bad fit, the clothes were worn, and old, Shea assumed they were probably Luke’s wife’s old clothes. A simple white vest top and some jeans suited her fine just now. Sighing and swiping the tears from her face, she turned to leave the room, ignoring the heavy feeling in her heart, or trying to. Luke waited outside.

“Are you OK? Were you crying?”

“Doesn’t matter.”

“You were crying though.”

“No, my old bullet wounds hurt, that’s all.” she lied, and the lie did nothing to ease the concern in his eyes, or the sheer disbelief. “What do you care anyway?” she asked casually, turning away from him to inspect the house, stopping to look at the picture of Luke and his family. Rachel was stunning, fiery red hair and dark eyes, looking into the camera with a baby boy sleeping in her arms. The little girl, she was no older than three, and looked just like her dad. Shea smiled at them, her heart melting.

“What do you mean, do I care, of course I do. We were messes back then I’ll throw my hands up and admit, but you didn’t deserve to get blown up, or put in a coma, but we told you didn’t we? We told you this gang shit would kill you.”

“I’m not dead yet.” Shea replied, she felt like shit, so she had to be alive somehow, she stopped at another picture, this time one of her, Alan and Luke, Alan in the middle with his great big smile and twinkling green eyes, the old scar running down his face from a knife fight with the Carnales’ own Victor Rodriguez. Guy was a tough bastard, but he was getting on in years, and Shea wondered if he’d gotten into one fight too many. She touched her fingers to the photograph wistfully, and Luke moved to the side of her, to see what she was looking at, and she swallowed the lump in her throat, “How’d it happen?” she asked, and Luke tilted his head to one side and sighed heavily.

“The Sons of Samedi. They came to The Circle one day, demanding protection money, Alan refused and they hacked him to death with machetes.”

“What.” she asked, shocked. “Gangs don’t interfere with The Circle.”

“You did.” Luke pointed out. “I think that’s what attracted the Samedi in the first place.”

“How can you pin this on me?!” she spat, and Luke shrugged.

“You built up a reputation, trouble was, you were no longer there to reinforce it, and therein lies the problem of everything. Whether you like it or not you shifted the balance so much it took three more fucking gangs to move in to even cause the amount of destruction you did on your own.”

“That’s not fair.” Shea growled, and Luke shook his head,

“Point is, this is where we are now. We warned you, and you didn’t listen, Alan died because they knew about his connection to you, and you weren’t here to fucking save him.”

“I was in a coma!” Shea hissed, it was difficult keeping the argument on the down low, and anger burned through the blood in her veins, and Luke nodded as though that were obvious.

“Exactly! This is the thing with this gang shit, it seeps into everything else around you, everybody else suffered just because you went on this self righteous crusade with Julius Little. Do you think Alan wanted to see you beat up as much as he did? Do you think his heart didn’t break when you told him what happened with the Rollerz? Not even nearly fucking dying could get through to you.”

“We had to take the city!”

“Well congratulations, was it worth it?”

         Shea stared at him, only becoming aware of her tears when they were rolling down her cheeks, and he closed his mouth and looked away, tears rolling down his too.

“If that’s how you really feel, then why the fuck are you helping me out?” she asked, and he looked back at her, swiping at his eyes.

“Believe me, everything was telling me not to. Those little humans in there depend on me to keep them safe Shea, I’m daddy. And I can’t put them anywhere near danger, and you are danger Shea, you have a target on your back. When the news breaks that you’re alive every gang fuckers gonna be pointing their guns at you and everyone around you.”

“Then why fucking help me then?”

“Because I don’t know if you’ve realised Shea, but you have nothing. Nobody’s waiting for you in that church-”

“Then if that’s your attitude then I’m going to make this real easy for you Luke.” she cut across him, she’d heard enough, she knew alright? She fucking knew and didn’t need anybody to tell her that. She shrugged dramatically and turned on her heel to leave, wrenching open the door.

“Shea-” Luke called after her, and Shea stopped and backed up a bit,

“Just be there for your kids Luke, you’re right, they need you.” she said before she closed the door and headed back into the night, feeling like she really needed a fucking drink right now. A drink and a cigarette.

Shea was only half conscious when her memory kicked back in, she became dimly aware that she was somewhere dark, but they had just stopped after travelling what must have been a good distance, she could make out the sound of ship foghorns in the distance. The docks. When did they get to the docks?

      And why did she feel so feverish and weak? She remembered a bat to the face.  a needle sliding into her arm, a blurry blue lined limo, but her brain hurt when she tried to remember anything more. Everything hurt.

Crying, someone was crying. It stopped abruptly when light shone in...wherever they were. Two figures looking down at them, Lin trying to reason with...Donnie was it? That squirrelly little mechanic that always hung around Price. The other- Sharp. He had a gun.

        A gunshot rang out, and Lin didn't speak anymore, Donnie yelled at Sharp before he stormed off. What the fuck was going on? So many things...it almost seemed funny. She giggled, and Sharp's attention was drawn to her, his face surprised. Another gunshot.

Pain knifed white hot through her chest and Shea embraced darkness. It wasn't the first time she'd blacked out, and she had a feeling it wouldn't be the last either.

***

“...Hey. You even fucking alive?!” Lin’s voice woke her but she just wanted to go back to sleep, everything was an effort right now and dreamland was just out of reach. A sharp painful kick made her eyes snap open, and she growled and kicked back on instinct, and Lin hissed, “Ow! You coulda just said yes!” she said as Shea tried to move her arms to push herself up, but nothing happened.

     So she was still tied up. Shea began to bend her body back on herself to get at the knife in her boot when Shea became aware that something cold and wet began to circle her. Water.

“Lin?” she asked, and heard her voice waver. “Isn’t this the trunk of your car?”

“Yeah.”

“Fuck.” Shea hissed through her teeth, still thrashing to get her knife

“Hey! Found my lighter!” Lin wheezed, a rattle in her chest set alarm bells ringing in Shea's head and she moved double time. She could smell, taste and feel blood in the trunk, hers or Lin's she didn't know. Maybe it was a little or a lot of both.

Just a little further, Shea frowned as her fingers skimmed the top of her knife, just a little-aha! Triumphant, Shea began hacking at her bindings.

“I'm-I'm sorry.” Lin said after a long pause, she sounded so weak and far away.

“Tell me when we get out of here, yeah?”

“I shouldn't have called, I shouldn't have dragged you...” Lin trailed off, and Shea kicked her back into consciousness.

“Stay with me honey.” Shea warned, trying to stay calm as she worked on the ties, and Lin laughed.

“Did you hear that asshole Donnie? He said I was his girl.”

Got it!

       The cable tie gave way and Shea returned the knife to her boot, trying to keep her head above water she dragged Lin over to her.

“Lin?” she asked tapping her cheek, “Lin honey?” the silence seemed to stretch on forever, and the water level rose to dangerous levels. There was only one thing for it, she had to get Lin out of there, “Lin, deep breath sweetie.” Shea said before she held her breath and pulled her head underwater. The trunk roof would be locked and could only open from outside, so Shea focused all her energy into kicking the back seat through until there was a hole big enough to push Lin through to the main car before following after her.  

She's gonna fucking kill me when she sees the state of her car. Shea thought.

           She collected the pistol that Lin kept in the glove compartment before grabbing hold of Lin's waist and shooting a bullet through the glass of the passenger side door. The bullet carved a spiderweb in the glass before it gave way and a ton of water crashed down upon their heads. She tried to move, but cramp seized her leg and she hissed, taking in a breath and swallowing way to much water. It felt like it filed her lungs. Panic set in.

        Refusing to die here, Shea kicked upwards through the water towards the surface as fast as she could: she needed to take a new breath, so did Lin. The cramp still assaulted her legs and Lin's dead weight didn't help things.

Wait, dead weight?

       That scared her more then anything else, finding strength from some unknown reserve she moved through the water quicker, but the water chopped and churned all around her and she struggled to keep her mouth shut and keep Lin's slipping hand in hers. But fate was so cruel.

      A particularly fast current ripped Lin from her and Shea screamed, bubbles of sound floating around her. Air, she needed air. She needed to find Lin. Her blood pounded in her ears and her chest burned. She flailed her arms in the abyss, hoping to catch hold of Lin again but her brain's need for oxygen made her body make for the surface.

         Her head broke the inky blackness of the waves as the current shoved her to and fro. Waves crashed over her head and rain beat down on her skin, the droplets of ice adding to the dark chill of the water.

      She breathed in deep, then dived under again, swimming in the direction where Lin had been wrenched away from her, but with the waves crashing above she had no idea if she was even swimming in a straight line, let alone in the right direction. The need to breathe clawed at her and she made for the surface once more, heading towards land.

     She sobbed and collapsed onto the beach, her already pain seized body churning out cries that only heightened the stabbing, she knew Lin had died shortly after she'd last spoke to Shea.

Only Shea didn't want to believe it.

      She didn't know how long she stayed there, she had no fucking idea what time it was in the first place, she had no phone, they had taken it off of her before and she found herself utterly at a loss. Then Shea began to shake violently, falling victim to an almighty coughing fit that ultimately sent her scrambling for the water so she could be sick. It felt like her body was trying to rip itself apart. She fell forwards into the water, closing her eyes for just a few seconds.

***

Possibly for the second time that day, Shea was wrenched back from the brink of death. Her eyes snapped open and she sat bolt upright, coughing to eject water from her lungs as she tried to pinpoint just what had resurrected her.

Car engines, laughter. Rollerz.

      Shea's eyes fell on the car headlights, something predatory awakened and the need for revenge set her nerves alight, reigniting her life. Her mind made up, she headed for the source of the noise like a ghost that couldn't be granted rest. Not until the debt was paid in blood. The lights of the cars were speeding away from her, and she set off at a run. By the time she got there, one Roller remained. She snapped his neck, a far quicker death than what they had planned for her and Lin, and the thought made her blood boil as she got in the car and gave chase.

     The cars were racing eachother, the occupants whooping and hollering, so Shea joined the race knowing that Sharp was in one of them, she would just have to kill every single one of these fuckers until she found him. She pulled up alongside the driver’s side of one, and he rolled down his window, probably to talk to who he thought was his comrade. His face turned to one of horror when he saw Shea instead.

“'Ain’t you dead?” he asked, and Shea smirked and pounced, sinking the knife deep into his heart, the Roller next to the driver screamed and tried to stem the blood flow as Shea sped out in front. Watching the car lose control and plough into a wall, Shea didn't stop to check if they were dead or not.

       The other Rollerz now knew something was wrong and slammed on their Nitrous, Shea did the same, closing the gap in mere seconds as she flicked open the glove compartment, finding the pistol there. Pistol in the glove compartment was like an unspoken rule or something.

          She flipped the safety catch, leaned out of the window and took aim, shooting the tires out of one of the cars, causing that one to crash further up the road. One car broke from the convoy and retreated, wanting no part of Shea or her vengeance.

       Shea lined up her shot and fired through the back window, catching one of those sat in the back, another bullet and she hit the driver too, killing him instantly, the car shuddered to a halt. The remaining Rollerz in the car scrambled out and ran away from Shea as fast as they could while she caught up to the last car in the convoy. Sharp's. She leaned over to the window, coughed. Spat out whatever had collected in her throat,

        Sharp tried outmanoeuvring her but it was obvious that he wasn't used to driving a car of his own. Shea stayed on his arse until she realised he was coming up to a set of crossroads. Tiring of this cat and mouse game, she veered off from the path, turned a corner, turned another, then slammed down on the accelerator until she was flying down the road.

As she thought, thinking he was safe, Sharp had slowed down.

     Shea had a last glimpse of the look of total shock on Sharp's face as she closed the gap between them at frightening speeds, he had no time to turn or accelerate.

      Shea smashed into him, pushing his car forwards until he was sandwiched between the wall and her car. Her body was jerked forwards from the impact, then thrown backwards as the airbag inflated, she struck her head and didn't even know she was knocked clean out until she came to a few moments later, sat in a haze of acrid smelling smoke.

       She blinked back blood from her eyes and looked around, saw the twisted lump of metal that was a mix of the front of her car, and Sharp's. She couldn't see him but the amount of shit she'd withstood that night she decided not to take any chances. She kept an eye on the wreck, taking pistol to hand she kicked the drivers door open and stepped out of the car. A shooting pain in her leg told her she'd damaged that in the crash too, she winced, panting and dragged her leg over to Sharp's car.

        A number of people had begun to swarm around the crash site, trying to get into the car to get to Sharp. But she wasn't going to let him be helped. No way, not when her friend was dead because of him. Not after all he'd done.  The anger came back ten fold.

“Get the fuck away from him!” she growled, and the civilians turned round.

“He needs help!”

“Away from the car!” she fired the pistol into the air, “now!” she snarled and the people scarpered, letting Shea rip the driver's door open and point her gun at a motionless and bloody Sharp. There was no way he was getting out of the car anyway, his body pinned in the clutches of the gnarled metal of the vehicle. When Shea next spoke, she'd never heard herself in that deadly cold tone before, if she was someone else, it would have given her chills. “Stop playing dickhead, at least face your death with some dignity.”

Sharp stirred, and the cold blue ice of his eyes met her molten fury.

“You should...be dead.” he said, and she allowed him to process her survival, that he’d know it was her that was going to take him out.

      She pulled the trigger. The gun went off and Sharp's head exploded into billions of pieces, spraying the car, and Shea's trigger arm with his blood. Her arm shook, and she lowered the gun.

        The adrenaline was consumed from her blood and she suddenly felt colder, weaker. Her body felt like lead, but ached painfully as though she'd lived a thousand lives, a dull ache as a growing numbness swept over her and her legs gave out from under her. She crouched on all fours coughing, wheezing as a rattle began to clatter in her chest. Her vision blurred.

        A fine bloody mist mixed with a few clots stained the tarmac below her. She winced and clutched at her chest as she tried to breathe. Saw it come away bloody.

Shit I'm bleeding.

      From what? When the fuck did that happen? Shea asked herself as she looked down at the wound oozing her lifeblood from her body, something in her memory stirred, a flash of fire, a sharp white hot pain knifing through her chest.

“Shit. I've gotta get back to the row.” she wheezed, dragging herself back into the road, someone stopped to help as they saw the carnage but Shea pulled the gun on them, making them freeze in their tracks.

“Hey, whoa whoa whoa, I just wanna help, let me help.” he said, hands up in surrender.

“You can't help him now.”

“And you?”

      Shea paused as a wave of nausea threatened its rise up her throat, and the gun fell slightly before she came back to reality.

“I don't want your help.” she hissed, circling to the car slowly.

Shea frowned and wrung out the cricks in her neck as she stomped along the pavement, the steel toe boots thudding with every step, her hands travelled to her face, feeling tenderness around her left eye, and knew there would be a bruise tomorrow. She beat down most of the Saints during her Canonisation, but that last guy? That twat Johnny Gat? She had to bring her A game against him, he fought like he hated her.

     But of course, it would turn out he did, having the audacity to criticise her reasons for signing up, so what if she wanted revenge on The Carnales for the other night? Was that so bad? It’s not like she had friends among Third Street, nor was she likely to, she didn’t need them, didn’t need any of them, not when she had The Circle. She was an arse-no-asshole he said, and he was right, she was, she told him he was right before she slammed an elbow into his face.

He still infuriated her just thinking of his fucking face.

     She continued her heavy walk as she descended the steps, ending underneath one of the many many adult shops in this part of town, opening the door to the chatter and the buzz beyond, of streetfighters and bikers alike drinking and deep in conversation, though not as deep in conversation that their eyes flicked to her as she walked in. She paused, staring them all out until they looked away and then she made her way over to the bar, where her two favourite men in her life stood waiting for her.

“Luke! Alan! You two look cosy.” she mused, smiling at their stoic expressions. It was Alan that looked the most pissed, his scarred, wrinkled face holding blue eyes that were pure steel.

“You got some nerve coming back here lass.” he said, and Shea’s heart sank.

“Alan-” she began.

“-The Circle don’t do gangs.”

“What? So you gonna chuck me out?” she asked, pulling herself into a bar stool, and Luke leaned back, the movement drew her attention, and he avoided her eye. Great. She’d get no support from him, and she sighed and returned her attention to Alan, who threw the rag in his hands down, slamming the glass on top of the bar.

“You fucking knew the rules when we took you in.”

“Yeah, and what happened to ‘family forever’, was that just lip service?”

“What the hell were you thinking?!” Luke blurted out, and Shea looked at him.

“Oh, I wondered when you were gonna chirp in.”

“Getting involved in this shit isn’t going to go well lass, trust me, I know the players in the game. You’re outmatched.”

“Then you clearly don’t fucking know me as well as you thought.” she snapped, her body burning hot, temper already too close to the surface right now.

“Sorry, not sorry but in a fight between you and the tanks like Green and Rodriguez, I’m gonna put my money on them, they’re stronger than you.” Luke said, and Shea rolled her eyes.

“I’m 5’4, you really think I rely on just strength? Come on Luke, you should know better than anyone what I can do.”

“We’re just worried.”

“Maybe you should be more concerned about the fact there’s three gangs in Stilwater that this Circle has done fuck all about-”

“-which you didn’t care about until it happened to you-”

“-Who’s gonna have my back other than me?!”

“That’s insulting.” Alan cut in and she rounded on him, eyes wide.

“You want to chuck me out!” she said, raising her voice, and Alan raised his over hers.

“Because you ain’t bringing your gang shit here!”

“I’m not! I just want a fucking drink!” she shouted over him again, and Alan snarled and pushed off from the bar.

“You think I haven’t lived through all this before?! You think these scars are for show?! You go out there and get in a knife fight with Victor Rodriguez and then come talk to me.”

“Why would I do that? That seems like a fucking stupid thing to seek out.”

      Alan put his face in his hands and dragged them over his face before he faced her again.

“I didn’t seek out the fight with Victor, I was in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

“Right. Like I was the other night.” Shea cut across him, “Only I’m gonna do something about it. Julius is a good man.”

“Of course, it’s not like he’s brought a fourth fucking gang into an already combustible mix, because that makes sense.”

“What so you wanna rely on the police?”

“No.”

“Then shut the fuck up.”

“Do you want to hear my story, or are you just going to be a smartass?”

“I’m always a smartass, but fucking go ahead.”

“Fine.” Alan snapped, running a hand through his greying hair, “buckle up kid, I’m taking you back to 1981.”

“Please don’t, I don’t think I wanna go back to wearing nappies.” Shea quipped, she was barely one in 1981, and Alan looked like he sure as hell didn’t want to be reminded how old he was.

“Just listen, you little shit.”

***

Great, the Carnales and the Vice kings were fighting again. Sunnyvale just wasn’t safe these days. Alan stopped in his tracks as people ran away from the chaos towards him, barging into his shoulder in the panic to get away, and Alan ran his hand through his permed hair, black as night, and joined the current. Not wanting to be anywhere near this.

      It was then that Red Hollywoods came speeding round the corner, and Alan had barely enough time to register Alejandro Lopez in the passenger seat before he raised is gun and fired into the crowd.

       People were mowed down around him and Alan found his mind racing, the faces of those injured all around him, and fear and anger just consumed him, he saw red looking at the Carnales leader. And before he knew it, he was stalking towards him. He’d be fine, he was a fighter after all.

      He ran forwards, zig zagging so Alejandro couldn’t get a lock on him, before he launched himself at the car, grabbing Alejandro by the scruff of his neck and dragging him bodily from the car, giving him a straight right hook across the face before throwing him down onto the road.

      He briefly saw the defiance in Alejandro’s face before an arm as thick as a tree stump wrapped around his neck  and pulled him back, and he twisted before a searing pain travelled up his side, and he glanced down, saw a knife stuck in his side, followed the hand and arm holding it and recognised the tattoos. Rodriguez. Of course Alejandro wouldn’t be here without his dragon.

      He was allowed to fall onto the road, and Alejandro and Victor exchanged words before Alejandro got to his feet and pegged it away, and then Victor’s fist smashed into the side of his head, and Alan’s world span. Then another blow, and another blow, then another, and all Alan could do was grip at the handle in his side, hands slick with his own blood failing to find purchase as Victor decided to try and beat him to death.

     When the blood on his hands dried somewhat and became stickier, his fingers wrapped around the handle of the knife and pulled. He screamed, gritting his teeth to curb the shout and kicked out hard at Victor’s knee, hard enough to force the leg to bend how it was never supposed to, and Victor howled, his hands moving to hold the offending leg as he sought to bear the pain, and Alan used that opportunity to scramble to his feet, knife at the ready before he lunged, swiping the Carnales enforcer across the face with the blade.

     It was then, as Victor glared through the blood running down his face that Alan knew he should have just ran, he should’ve just counted his lucky stars he wasn’t wounded in the drive by and just got away. He had to let his anger get the best of him didn’t he? Victor pulled another knife from his vest and grinned before lunging on his bad leg.

     Even one legged he was quick for his sidz, and Alan clutched at his side and dodged as best he could, getting caught across his eye himself, and he staggered back, blinking back blood.

       Victor lunged again and Alan dodged, twisting his side painfully  before he kicked out, catching Victor under his chin, staggering him, and Alan seized his change, charging forward to stab Victor in the neck.

       And Alan wasn’t stupid, he used the opportunity to run, his life was oozing out through his fingers but sheer terror gripped him, and he ran faster, the hospital wasn’t far away, he could make it. As long as he didn’t pass out first.

***

“Now all that tells me is don’t give them a chance to retaliate.” Shea replied. “Get on them and keep on them until they’re dead and you’re not.” she shrugged, and Alan leaned on the bar and glared.

“I get it. I thought I was as invincible as you back then-”

“-Oh I don’t think I’m invincible Alan.” Shea interrupted, again, “on the contrary I’m quite aware of how mortal I am, I just know it and don’t care.” she said, which was a lie. In reality she just simply didn’t want to die, so she did what she could to not die. Being raised Catholic and being told you’re going to hell for the smallest thing made a young Shea very scared of her last day on Earth. But wasn’t that where the rush came from? To face your deepest, darkest fear, and triumph against the odds? If she was taught that anywhere, it was from Alan himself.

“You’re fucking impossible.”

“And you say that like it’s a bad thing.” Shea replied, waggling her eyebrows.”Drink please.” she added, and Alan placed his hands on his hips.

“Alright Father Hackett, chill the fuck out.” he replied, again with that steel in his eyes. As she stared back, she saw worry, fear creep into his eyes and a small part of her did feel bad, he was against the gang war and gangs, always had been from the sounds of it, and for all intents and purposes she had just cast all that away and joined up to be in the thick of it.

“I’m sorry Alan, it’s just gotta be done.” she said, and he turned back, his eyes postively shining with tears, and again Shea’s inside shifted in guilt.

Yeah this place was definitely too fancy for her, this was the type of establishment that would serve lobster or oysters. Or Caviar. Basically any weirdish thing found from the sea.

      There were ice swans and silverware galore, and while Shea wasn’t wanting for money much these days, she still felt out of place, even dressed to the nines in First Impression’s finest pants/blazer combo, she checked on her Fleur-de-lis pin in her jacket, then stepped into the restaurant. She was drawn to the view from outside for a moment, the huge windows in the sky restaurant were really something else. It gave her a fantastic view of her city in all it’s glory.

     Nobody seemed to batting an eyelid at her presence however, smiling and bowing their heads courteously as they passed, and Shea’s cheeks burned hot and she threw her attention to the pictures on the wall, noticing what looked to be Ronnie Kray sat at a table with some Mafioso sorts and raised an eyebrow. Maybe Randall and Aubin’s Seafood restaurant were used to entertaining those constantly falling on the other side of the law.

“Er, Miss O’Connor?” Shea turned at her name to see a greeter stood in front of her with a clipboard, and they nodded their head respectfully, “Mr King told us to look out for you, please, this way.” they said, gesturing with their arm and setting off through the tables. Shea followed, a knot twisting in her stomach that tightened the closer she got to King’s table. She could see him, leaning back in his chair gazing at the outside. This wasn’t just the first time she’s seen him in years, but she had killed Julius, and he had to have known it was her and asked to meet anyway. What was he planning?

      He looked round as she sat in the seat opposite him, her hands clasped in her lap, and he smiled, the diamond earring in his ear glinted as he moved, and he raised his hands to adjust the yellow scarf around his neck, seems he was always going to rep his colours no matter what. She respected that.

“Long time, no see Playa.” he said, and nodded at the greeter, who bowed and left. “You look very alive for a dead woman Shea.”

“Half of my legs had to be grafted.” she said, and Ben cringed.

“Still, you’re here, that says a lot.” he said, index finger grazing his chin in thought, and Shea raised an eyebrow.

“That could mean anything.” she said, and he laughed and narrowed his eyes.

“How so?”

“You know I killed Julius.”

“I also know why.” he said, “It’s a sad state of affairs, but karma comes to collect on all of us eventually. You can relax Shea, if I wanted to kill you, I certainly wouldn’t be doing it myself.”

“You don’t wanna kill me?”

“That’s what I said, isn’t it?” Ben replied, “though I do enjoy the straight shooting questions, it’s a breath of fresh air.”

    Shea felt all tension leave her body then and she relaxed, pulling over the menu to read.

“Alright, what’re we eating?”

“Whatever you want, my treat.” he said,

“That’s a dangerous thing to say around me, King.” she replied and he chuckled.

“I stand by it.”

        Shea glanced back down at the menu, her head spinning from how posh everything sounded: Classic moules marinieres, Linguine vongole,Poissons du jour, She spied a Tuna Carpaccio down the list and kind of had an idea what it was so her choice was made.

“So if your plan wasn’t to poison me horribly under the pretence of dinner, why did you ask me here?” she asked as the waiter came by, pencil at the ready to take their order, Ben stared for a few moments before turning to the man.

“Yes, so I’ll have the Roasted Monkfish and whatever the lady wants, and ah-a bottle of your best wine as well, you good with wine?” he asked her and she nodded, alcohol was alcohol at the end of the day.

“And I’ll have the Tuna Carpaccio please.” she said, and the water jotted it all down.

“Excellent choices, I’ll be back in a few minutes with your wine sir-madam.” he said, inclining his head towards them both before taking their menus, and Ben waited until her was gone before leaning forwards.

“Stilwater’s yours again, so what’s next?”

“Next?”

“Yeah, fighting’s only ever the half of it, the real hard work is maintaining it, so what’s your plan?”

“I have no plan.” Shea replied, they were just trying to survive from day to day, never really gave her the time to be dreaming up schemes. “The Saints have had it rough the last few months, I’m happy to give them a breather while I figure a few things out.”

“Fair, fair. I...have heard a few things, How are you and Gat holding up?”

“We’ve...been better.” Shea answered, deliberately vague, “We’re OK though, in the grand scheme. You mentioned it yourself that I’m doing well for being dead.” she said, thanking the waiter as he poured their wine then left them with the bottle on their table. She leaned forward, glass in hand. “Pierce says hi by the way, you might not know him by name but he was a VK back in the day, one of the ones that stayed loyal to you during the coup.”

“Evidently, since he joined up with you. I might have sent a few of my guys in your direction, you know the ones that don’t do well out of a gang?” he asked and she nodded, “you probably don’t know how many ex Vice Kings walk among the Saints.”

“Well if I don’t know, they’re causing no harm, I’m not going to send away loyal people for who they used to be. I’ve had too many friends stab me in the back to learn that lesson.”

“You don’t lay hands on your own?” he asked, taking a sip.

“If I have to do that, they’re not my own.” she smirked, “Dex, Troy, Julius, I used to party with them, and now they either directly or indirectly tried to put me in the ground. I train my people, but I never push them farther than they can handle. I need them ready, not burnt out.”

“Your leadership style’s very hands on.”

“It’s me King, I don’t think it could be anything else.”

“True, hey if it works for you, I’m hardly the one that should be judging.”

“Yeah but what did you do after you decided to lay the weapons down, go into big business?” she asked, taking a drink, and King frowned, tapping a hand on the table.

“It was the only way I could go really. I couldn’t end the Vice Kings obviously, you’ve seen what creating a power vacuum does.” Shea nodded, remembering that fecking boat again, “Great in theory, but Jules always was too much of an idealist. Put him in denial more often than not.”

“Cut off the Hydra’s head, three more grows in its place.”

“Exactly.”

         Shea frowned and sipped at her wine, it’s true that the city was theirs and she had no intention of disbanding the Saints now it was, like Ben just said, they could do without the messiness that Julius caused five years ago. But where could she take the Saints? Their enemies were gone, they’d have nothing to do, and the gang was unruly at the best of times. She would have to find other avenues for them to expend their energy, but what?

“What do you think I should do?” she asked, and Ben chuckled, shaking his head and raising a hand.

“Oh no no no, I’m not telling you what to do? You got to figure it out on your own I’m afraid.”

“Ben.” Shea snapped, incredulous.

“Hey I’m retired, I’m here to guide you, not shove you into a box.”

“Laaaame.” she huffed, downing her wine, “Can I get more?” she asked.

“Knock yourself out, just save the passing out for when you get home though.”

“Ah, I’m sure Johnny can haul me off the floor if I do, you should see him now Ben, jail made him super hench.”

“He’s living with you?”

“For now yeah, truth be told, I want to keep an eye on him, you know?” she asked, and Ben finished his own drink, and he too poured more.

“You just make sure you look after eachother yeah? Not a day goes by when I don’t miss Angela, it’s not the exact same situation as you but I could’ve done with my best friend still with me.”

         He looked sad and wistful when he said that, and Shea nodded, she understood, nothing worse than losing your best friend somewhere along the way, with them taking arms against you later. Maybe that’s why Ben didn’t want to kill her, because he understood how she felt right now, she wondered if the thought of killing Julius crossed Ben’s mind after, only to realise when he came down to it that he could never really do it. God knows Shea still found it playing round and round in her head as time went on.

“So,” she asked, wanted to steer the conversation into lighter waters, “How’s retirement treating you?”

“Well my books still selling well, they want to turn it into a movie, and Michael Clarke Duncan’s supposed to playing me, so-pretty fucking well.” he grinned, “not what I had in mind five years ago, but I like where I am at least.”

“Am I in it?” she asked,

“You mean you haven’t read it yet? Christ playa, I say all these nice things about you and you don’t have the courtesy to read it?”

“Hey, I’m not retired remember?” She chuckled, “mama’s still getting that illegitimate coin.”

“But coin nonetheless.”

“Of course.” she grinned, then her eyes flicked to their food coming and she grinned wider, she couldn’t wait for this. It was when they were both taking a wine break when Ben leaned forwards across the table.

“Did I tell you I’ve been shortlisted for the Baker award, first non fiction, autobiographical listing in thirty years.” he said, and both of Shea’s eyebrows raised, that was surely impressive.

Wow.” she said, then leaned forwards too, “I got a bullet to curve round a wall the other week.” she said, to highlight their different lives and Ben laughed, then she did, The rest of the dinner went by in a blur of anecdotes and laughter, and when they both stepped outside while Ben waited for his limo to pull round, he turned to her.

“You know, I haven’t said this, but you really remind me of Angela.”

“Your sister was Irish?” she asked, and Ben smiled.

“No, but she always knew more than she let on.” he sighed, then as he watched the limo pull up, he shoved his hands in his pockets, “just...take care yeah? Don’t let yourself be cornered again, always give yourself an out.” he said, them waved as he dipped inside the car and shut the door, and Shea waved back until she could no longer see him.

Money talks, Pierce had known that from a younger age than most, they always say money can’t buy happiness, that it isn’t everything, but in Pierce’s opinion those that said that usually knew nothing about struggling. If money was the only barrier between not eating right for a week or two, when you finally got food in you’d be laughing right?

      Money had also seen the rich judges son spared jail when Pierce had been locked up and the key thrown away, they were both dealing, they were both ex Vice Kings, it should have been fair. But it wasn’t. It never would’ve been. So when Pierce finally gotten out of jail he swore he’d do everything in his power to get money at any cost, to be rich, to be famous, so that the system couldn’t touch him.

     When he got out of jail however, he found Stilwater burning, and burning far worse than he had seen at the height of his stint in the Vice Kings, and his money making schemes were abandoned in favour of just staying alive. You watch, you wait, you build of course, a sentiment from Benjamin King he still held close to the chest, he would get his shot, he just had to wait it out. So the day he got that call from Gat out of the blue he saw his chance.

“O’Connor’s comin’ to get you, be ready.” was the sign off to the call, and after putting what would be his future Boss to the test, he knew this was where he had to be, cleaning up the city and maybe making a bit of money while he was at it.

       Boss was...difficult sometimes to say the least, charging headfirst into everything and everyone was a bit of a culture shock for someone that modelled himself after King, but he was learning to adapt. Or at least he thought he was, some days all he and Boss would do was argue all day, and it would put that in doubt.

       He tried to tell her, many times that whatever she needed he could get it done, he was confident, he got this, just listen and she’d take offence, but it wasn’t his fault he was competent, he just wanted her to see that. This wasn’t his first rodeo.

“And it isn’t mine either.” she snapped, “thank you very much.”

“I’m just sayin’, if we want to corner the Loa dust market, it isn’t enough to just destroy the Samedi’s, we need to have a hook, we need to have them keep comin’ back to us.” he said, and the Boss just stared at him. Her stare was intense, made him squirm in his seat like he was going to get the biggest telling off of his life, she shook her head, the hand she was was resting her head on shifted, gesturing vaguely in his direction.

“Why are you telling me things I already know, what’s your problem?”

“Problem? There’s no problem, I’m just trying to make you rich.”

“Great, then make me rich instead of just telling me you’re gonna make me rich.”

“We need a hook.” he repeated, and Shea turned her head to where Shaundi and Laura sat in awkward silence on the other side of the table with a smirk.

“Laura darling, put crack cocaine in the Loa dust I’m sure that’ll work.”

“Are you fuckin’ kiddin’ me?” Pierce asked,

“Boss, we can’t put crack cocaine in the Loa dust.” Shaundi said, deadpan.

“Are you fuckin’ kiddin’ me?!” Pierce repeated, and Boss whipped her head back round to face him, the look she was giving him definitely putting him in mind of his hardass principal from middle school. It didn’t make either women any less terrifying however. He stood his ground though, he had to. She would respect that at least. “What’s your problem?” he asked her, and he saw both her eyebrows raise, heard Shaundi hiss, grimacing as though someone stabbed her with a red hot poker.

“Shaundi, Laura give us five minutes yeah.” Boss finally said, and they left in a flurry, eager to be out of there as Shea’s eyes never left his face, and it was then that he wondered if he’d made a mistake. “You wanna know what my problem is?” she asked.

“I know what your problem is, it’s the Dex Ultor thing innit?” he guessed, he asked around after he heard Vogel bring him up, nothing that came back was positive, and that’s who he reminded her of? He’d fucking leave that, Dex was no better than Warren Williams or Tanya Winters in his opinion. They had capitalised on what they had of course, but it wasn’t anything he wanted a part of. Boss smiled, and it was then that he realised he definitely made a mistake.

“Tell me some of your weaknesses, go.”

“Is this a job interview?” he asked.

“Go I said.” she insisted with a nod, and Pierce grinned nervously.

“I have no weaknesses, I told you, I just get it done.”

“Look, I’m not asking for childhood trauma, we’re not really there yet, but the fact that you can’t even tell me one lets me know I’m right.”

“What?” he asked confused, and she tilted her head to one side.

“You’ve got no self awareness.” she said, and Pierce laughed, he couldn’t help it, The Boss, the walking nuke was telling him he had no self awareness?

“I have loads of self awareness.”

“Great, then tell me a weakness.”

“You tell me your weakness.” he shot back, and Boss smiled and held out a hand.

“Hi, I’m Shea, I’m an arsehole whose only skill in life is basically hurting people. I also don’t know how to delegate-” she paused, her brow furrowing, “-I could go on for the craic like but you aren’t ready for that conversation.” she said as Pierce awkwardly shook her hand, she took it back then, gesturing towards him. “See? It’s not that difficult. If you want to be confident, be confident I love that, but I’ve been around the block as much as you have, and I have to ask why you decided to follow me if you’re just gonna tell me what I already know, doesn’t that waste our time at the end of the day?”

“I guess?” Pierce asked, shrugging, and she tilted her head again.

“Now lets hear what you’ve got, your real plan this time.”

        Now that took him by surprise, usually Boss only listened to his plans when Shaundi said it, but there she was, staring at him again, this time expecting him to say something.

“Er, I was thinking of doing like a bulk offer yeah? You buy so much, maybe like ten bags and you get one free or something?”

“What like a Buckstar loyalty card?”

“Yeah, we can make ‘em on the cheap once we have our template- plus, one thing I know is that people like to collect shit,” he said, pulling a piece of paper towards him and drawing a happy stick person with ten crudely drawn bags on their arms. Boss leaned forward, and it emboldened him, she was listening at least, not outright slating the idea.

“It could work.” she mused.

“I mean, what have we really got to lose right? If we get the market cornered, once the money is flowing, one or two bags here and there in the grand scheme of things isn’t going to make much of a dent in our potential earnings.” he said, drawing stick figures of him and Boss rolling in money. “We get rich, and we have a happy customer loyal to us, what do you think?” he asked, looking round at her. She thought for a second as Pierce waited on the edge of his seat, before she nodded.

“I like it.” she said, and he breathed a sigh of relief, thank fuck for that. “You always had an interest in marketing, Pierce?”

“Nah, I just know what people like, I used to hit the library a lot at school, picked up a few Psychology books to read through and shit.”

“And how did you find Psychology?”

“Interesting, people are-well they are interesting. Oh!” he said, a sudden thought coming to him. “How about we spread a rumour that the Samedi curse their Loa Dust?” he asked and Boss tilted her head to one side.

“What if they aren’t superstitious.”

“Well we could always say it’s also cut with glass or bath salts.” he answered with a shrug, and a smirk pulled her lips upwards.