Reckless - S01 E23

Story 1 week ago

Reckless - S01 E23

Read Story: SEASON 1 EPISODE 23

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[Five Minutes Later]

In her soaked clothes, Stacy sat in the spare room of the garage, her arms wrapped around her knees.

Even the chair she’s sitting on is wet with water from her clothes, and it’s dripping to the ground.

She’s not looking up, but she could feel the movements of the people inside the room with her.

They’ve been ignoring her since five minutes ago when she entered.

They kept going about their activities like she’s an unwanted visitor which she understands.

After all, their genius was arrested the last time she came here (though involuntary) but her presence still caused mayhem.

She slowly lifted her head, sweeping a look around the room as the cruel tentacles of cold seeped deeper under her sensitive skin.

She’s so d@mn cold, and she’s still shivering so much she could hear her teeth clashing faintly.

Trevor sat on a nearby chair, eating soft guavas.

As he ate, he played games on his phone with his other hand.

Matteo is seated too, but he’s currently rinsing a bike plug with fuel, so he’s ignoring her too.

The smell of fuel made her stomach dip, but she held back her guts.

The only person standing in the room is Cove—beside a large table, and his laptop is on top of the table.

He’s working on it.

Since she got to know him, he’s either saying something harsh or he’s with his laptop or he’s repairing cars.

Patterns.

It’s become a circle at this point.

The bruise on his lip side is gone, leaving just an unnoticeable redness, but his jaw is still plastered, and she feels slightly guiltyas she watched his jaw move under the plaster.

She secretly brought out a small pack of effective wound treatments from her pullover pocket.

Knowing he’d never take it from her, she dropped it unnoticed behind the chair she’s sitting on.

She had a peek at his laptop screen and saw he’s going through the work of his tutorial students.

He probably gave them assignments.

Assignment on the first day of tutoring? Strict.

It’s as if he’s aware of her eyes cos he suddenly shut his laptop down.

He turned around, and she quickly looked away as he walked up to her, stopping some inches away.

“Five minutes. You’ve got five minutes to say wh@tëver you wanna say. One,” he counted.

She jumped down her chair.

“Come to the Mixer, dance with me!” She didn’t miss a single beat.

“Why would I dance with you?” His jaws grinded subtly. “Why would I even do a dance?”

She moved closer.

“I know you don’t need the ten marks. After all, you’d surely get full marks in your tests and exams and still get your A, but I’m not like you…I’m not a genius, and I’m trying to boost my GPA this semester—”

“Talk to your dad, he only has to pay the lecturers and you’d get your A,” he cut in sharply.

Now he’s already walking back to the laptop, but she followed.

Trevor minimized his phone game and shifted close to Matteo.

“Am I the only one feeling heat despite the cold?” Matteo muttered.

“You can say that again,” Trevor’s eyes shadowed. “It feels so good to see Albert’s daughter humble.”

“If my dad payed for my academics, then my GPA shouldn’t be dying as it is now.” Stacy said, standing beside him in from of his laptop which is now open again.

Zendaya’s assignment is the one he’s currently looking at.

“My dad might be rash and all that, but he’d never do what my mum is against. My late mum always said she wanted me to attain everything fair and square so people won’t later say I got everything I achieved through my dad’s money and influence. Dad would never pay lecturers to increase my GPA.” Stacy continued talking.

“I will not come to the Mixer, you can at least tell your dad to pay the school management to change your partner. That’s not interfering, is it? Bad Idea,” He faced her, and her eyes stilled.

She didn’t bat her lids till he returned his eyes back to the screen.

“It’s Stacy, not Bad Idea, and not Prostitute. Stop calling me both, especially the second one.” She said.

“You’re subtly ok with Bad Idea? Cool,” he muttered back.

“Covey!” She snapped.

He looked at her, his eyes unreadable. “It’s garage boy,”

“I won’t call you that again, so stop calling me a Prostitute…. I didn’t fûck you for money before, so wrap it up and just—”

“Too bad, I’m already used to it” he muttered, voice still clipped.

Now he’s done looking at Zendaya’s assignment, and he’s sending a mail to her about it.

As he typed, Stacy watched.

Cove’s Mail: Are you sure you even passed through first year? You might wanna go back and carry over all the first year courses.

Again, leave computer science alone.

He was about to click send when Stacy quickly held his wrist.

He cast her a quizzical look.

“I thought you were only harsh with words, turns out you’re even harsher with mails. Don’t send that to Daya, she cries easily.” She said.

Cove ignored her and just pressed send with his second hand.

Stacy gasped a little, and he shut down the laptop.

“Five minutes over…” He said pointedly, causing her to gasp again, but she couldn’t talk before he began stalking out of the room.

She followed.

“Hey! Covey!”

His back was all he saw till they arrived at the garage gate.

She was still trying to talk when he opened the gate and threw her out.

She almost fell.

The rain strokes are lighter now—between shower and drizzle.

When her skin received the wetness again, she became hyper-aware that she’s still soaked, and her cold returned in waves.

“Will you come to the Mixer?” She asked hopefully.

“Sorry if any of my lifestyle gave you the impression that I love gatherings.” He declared and returned into the garage with a smirk she doesn’t quite understand.

Stacy didn’t return to her car till he disappeared completely.

The leather seat of the billion-dollar car got wet lines immediately her arse settled on it.

Her driver is absent—she drove herself here—and stayed in the rain to gain sympathy, but that guy doesn’t look like he has any to spare.

But that was that smirk on his face?

She picked her phone and texted the only person she could think of…

Stacy: I went to his garage to persuade him about the Mixer, but he just threw me out and… smirked.

Dorian replied instantly like his fingers were waiting on top of his screen before.

Jerk: Fabio? The fact that you expect me to figure him out with his smirk is laughable, Stace.

Stacy: You’re his friend…duh

Jerk: Still doesn’t make him very easy. I can read him only when I’m with him…I’m not a shaman.

Stacy: Then…

Jerk: But he rarely carries any expression on that muted face of his, so if he smirked, it might mean he’ll come or he’ll not. Let’s just hope he’s gonna come, ok?

Stacy: Let’s just hope?

Jerk: I care, Brat. If your tango king bails on the Mixer night, it’s worse than a groom abandoning his bride on the alter. You won’t only lose marks, you’d also be disgraced so yeah… Let’s hope he comes.

Stacy didn’t type again after that, she dropped her phone, hoping fervently that Friday night won’t be disgraceful for her cos she has lots of h@tërs who’d be willing to jest.

She grabbed the steering, but just before she’d awaken the engines, her mind went to the man in black who chased her two nights ago.

What if he’s somewhere around now, lurking and awaiting her?

It’s raining right now just like that night, so what if…

She let go of her steering, taking her phone to dial Anita.

“Stacy I was just about to call. Will you be spending the night at Kehlani’s place?” Anita’s worried voice hit the phone.

“I actually lied about Kehlani’s place, I’m at the garage…”

“Wait what! Cove’s garage? Stacy why? Are you that eagar to put him in trouble again?” Anita gasped.

“But I had to go convince him to come to the Mixer, or I lose marks,” Stacy grumbled.

“Since when did you start caring about marks?” Anita sounded awed.

Stacy relaxed on her seat. “Can you come drive me? I’m too paranoid to drive myself right now.”

“Don’t be. Your guards are around you. They left the house with you, you just didn’t know.” Anita replied.

“For real?” Stacy looked around, and truly, she sighted four black cars around her on that garage road.

She immediately recognized them as the guards cars, so she calmed.

“Thank you, Anita,” She took a relieved breath.

“I’ll be expecting you back, I made chicken marsala,” Anita announced, and Stacy smiled.

She gave the garage one more glance before driving down the street.

Her convoy of guards drove protectively after her, and shortly after they went out of sight, a blue-black sleek car drove out of a dark corner in the street.

Inside, Dorian sat at the backseat, his driver sat professionally on the driver’s seat, and two guards sat on both sides of him.

He actually came here with plans to inform Cove about the modelling gig he got for him, but he instead met Stacy waiting in front of the gate.

He saw when Cove nearly broke her shoulder bone before leaving her there in the rain.

He saw how she waited in front of that gate, squatting in the rain.

And when Cove finally came to open the gate for her, he thought maybe his friend is finally a bit humane, but he was wrong cos five minutes later, he threw her out.

He witnessed everything silently from this car, and now that Stacy is gone, he could only bite his lip.

“Wonder if my best friend even breaths at all…” He muttered, getting himself a thin cigar.

“Do you want me to drive into the garage, sir?” The driver asked from the front as one of the guards sparked fire on the cigar for him.

“Nah,” Dorian looked at the garage gate, his gaze lingering for a while. “I’ll just see him in campus tomorrow. Take me home.”

The driver obliged.

—

[Outright Media House, Malibu – 11PM]

Outright in Malibu is Albert’s second Media House in America—there are ten in America alone.

It’s the most popular and the hardest to gain direct access to.

Booking an appointment with Albert Montana himself might take weeks—if not months.

As he sat behind his painfully expensive desk, monitoring the incoming and outgoing news in the city, his mind is in a split.

One part is focused, and the other part is on his daughter who is still very mad at him. He can’t even see her face directly except for the pictures her guards sent some minutes ago.

Pictures of her in the repair garage….waiting in the rain only because she wanted to convince the garage boy to attend the Mixer.

He can just pay off the school management to change her partner, but Stacy has always relied on her own efforts academically, following her late mum’s wishes, so he can’t even interfere.

However, it’s like thorns to his side as he watched her wait in that rain and how the boy later threw her out.

Who even raised that guy?

His thoughts were interrupted when the 12am news report landed on his desk from the anchor’s office.

He almost started checking it out when one of his personal guards entered with a brown parcel.

“Where’s Stacy?” Albert spranged up.

“Rest assured, reports came that she’s at home and very fine. Anita served her dinner and made sure she took flu and fever medications. I just thought I had to deliver this,” the guard dropped the parcel.

With a relieved sigh, Albert took it and tore it open.

They’re clean pictures of the strange man in black who chased Stacy from two nights ago. Cut out from the street camera footages.

“He was following her from the subway station, and he chased her into the alleyway before she escaped with pepper spray,” the guard explained clearly.

Albert kept checking the pictures out one by one, carefully.

Till he got to the last three ones where Cove walked past her, when he came back for her, and when he carried her on his back.

“He really did not kidnap her,” Albert muttered, sitting.

“That’s right,” The guard said. “If he hadn’t carried her that night, there’s a high chance that she’d still be caught and kidnapped by the man in black.”

“He wore face cap in all the pictures, and he kept his face down, making sure it’s hidden. He’s careful.” Albert muttered with a nod.

“Exactly sir, his face is undetectable… for now.” The guard agreed.

“Why was he chasing Stacy?” Albert glanced up immediately.

“He made a call in one of the pictures, and that just proves he works for someone who we suspect to be one of your enemies in this media field, sir. You have too many ops,” the guard stepped back.

Albert sent him out of the office and kept staring at the pictures.

Another resentful enemy is on the loose? Going after his daughter?

Last time an enemy went feral on him, he nearly lost his life cos he was shot on the tummy during a media outlet donation, and now his precious daughter?

He can’t live without Stacy, so whoever this is has to be curbed before it blows off the roof.

Also…the Cove boy.

Now it’s obvious he was mistreated.

He should be compensated, but his daughter safety comes first, so he dialled his trained security bureau.

“Release a dozen of guards to join Stacy’s guards from now on. Send their payment details, they’ll be added to the payroll.” He ordered.

—

[Young Mansion, 12am]

Scott is only just arriving. He had drinks with his friends till late, and they all slept off at Remo’s mansion, but he woke up an hour ago and drove himself home.

He got out of his car and swept his gaze around the building, thinking several way out in his head.

He wants to kill Kane tonight. That bastard won’t get to see the light of tomorrow. That’s what he was planning in the car till he got home.

He even took Remo’s gun for the mission. Remo and Frank are the only gun owners in the gang. They’re the most notorious anyways.

Scott carried himself into the dead mansion. At this time of the night, lights are off, but he’s the son of the house anyways, so he could make out the way even in the dark.

A sharp breaking sound hit his ears when he walked past his father’s bedroom, and he stopped in the choky darkness.

Silas sleeps in that room with Owen.

He slept in it with Scott’s mother when she was still alive, but now it’s Owen’s space, so wh@tëver the breaking sound is, it’s not his cup of champagne.

His land of Fuçks is barren, so he continued his walk to Kane’s room.

He cracked the door open slowly, making sure no sound escaped the hinges. His head popped in slowly, and his hand pressed down on the gun he’s holding, but what he saw made him give up on the gun.

Kane is in bed, the white duvet pulled completely over him. His head isn’t even out. He’s fast asleep.

Good.

Thanks to the bleak sleep light that’s on at the south side of the wall, he’s seeing his protuberance in the bed clearly enough.

He took three careful steps inside, another four to the bedside.

There are two pillows on the bed, but one is free, meaning Kane has the other one beneath his head.

Scott picked the free pillow, positioning it perfectly.

He’s just gonna choke him to death with the pillow.

With one precise dip, he pressed the pillow down to Kane’s covered face, but instead of wriggles, the spot went down like he caught emptiness.

The hell??

Scott quickly raised the pillow and the duvet together, and a unplanned gasp tore from his throat when he saw that instead of Kane under the duvet, it’s a wrap of clothes.

He hasn’t digested that shock when the room lights came on brightly, and a low laughter filled the room.

Scott whipped around, only to see Kane standing by the wall behind him with his arms crossed over his chest, his black sleeping robe nearly crawling on the ground.

“The rate at which you and your gang are predictable is annoying. If y’all venture into filmmaking, Netflix will categorize your film under Must Not Watch Series… boring!” He spat.

“Tell me if this is boring too!” Scott spat and pulled the gun instantly.

The trigger responded to the pull of his finger. He shot at Kane.

Kane definitely didn’t see that coming, cos the bullet grazed his arm before dropping on the ground.

He bled, and shockwaves hit his bones. Then, Scott pulled the trigger again, but before it could sound, Kane jumped at him, stopping him from shooting.

They landed in bed, Kane on top.

The gun fell out of Scott’s grip, landing on the floor.

Scott’s wicked punch greeted Kane’s face, but Kane was always ready. He returned it to Scott’s jaw.

Both bled, h@të mixing with something darker than night.

They rolled on the bed till they were close to the headboard, then their punches met their faces again, and their mouth bled to their faces.

Their heads came up at the same time, headbutting so hard.

Their nerves exploded in their heads.

Scott pressed Kane’s grazed arm, and Kane in turn pressed Scott’s stabbed arm. Their blood stained the sheets as their eyes locked.

“Fûck it!” Scott groaned painfully.

“çlit!” Kane cussed painfully too.

Then their hands went to their necks. Kane is still on top, so he pinned Scott down, but Scott didn’t slack.

He raised his hand to Kane’s neck too, squeezing hard.

They both choked, spitting blood on the covers again.

Their eyes reddened, and their nerves appeared on their foreheads.

“I’m going to kill you with my bare Fuçkin hands!” Scott promised.

“I’m going to kill you with something else. My hands are too precious to kill a warthog like you!” Kane promised back, their necks still squeezing under the locks of their hands.

The door flipped open, and Owen came in with Silas, both wide-eyed when they saw the ongoing.

Blood on the sheets, gun and bullet on the floor, wounds on the boys faces, and their hands on their necks.

The gun is silent, so they didn’t hear the gunshot, but they heard the sounds of the punches, so they came rushing here immediately.

“Scott!” Silas yelled.

“Kane!” Owen followed.

Their voices didn’t matter.

The boys didn’t let go.

Silas jumped on the bed, flipping them apart forcefully.

Kane still wanted to grab Scott after that, but Owen blocked his way.

“Enough already!” She shouted at his bloody face.

“He entered this room with a gun to off me!” Kane showed his grazed arm. “If you’re gonna face someone, Fuçkin face him!” Kane shouted at her face.

“What!” Owen gasped.

Silas looked at the gun on the floor, then at Scott who looks mad.

“A gun? In my house?”

“Now don’t talk like you don’t have more than a gun you sicko!” Scott snarled angrily, his face much bloodier than Kane’s

He unwrapped the bandage on his stabbed arm, and Silas’ eyes shadowed under his glasses.

“He did this to me in the morning, I wasn’t gonna sit still and just nurse the wound. I was only retaliating and I haven’t even started!” Scott spat.

Then he waltzed out of the room.

“Scott!” Silas went after him.

Now it’s just Owen and Kane.

Owen gave Kane a ‘good job’ look, and Kane came closer, glaring.

“If you think I’m doing this for you, you’re a fool. I h@të you as much as I h@të Scott!” He pushed Owen off his way before entering the bathroom.

Owen called the maids to take care of the bloody sheets, and when she heard the water running in the shower, she left the room.

Inside the shower, Kane smiled like a cryptic as the cold water stabbed his facial wounds, making it hurt.

He smiled, even as his blood made rivulets on the pale white floor.

—