Chapter 4

Janna

“Where the fuck have you been?”

I knew it. As soon as I step through the door, Mickey is waiting for me. And it had to be him, didn’t it? He’s the most protective out of all of them. “I, er…” Although I’d had the whole journey to concoct some sort of story, I hadn’t been able to concentrate with the enigmatic sheikh sitting by my side.

He’s not even giving me a moment to get my thoughts together. Storming up so he’s right in my face, he starts, “And don’t think of saying you were with Mara. I’ve been blowing up her phone since early this morning. Where have you been, Janna? And I want the truth.”

Shit. I didn’t expect her to drop me in it.

My thoughts must have been plain on my face, as he continues, “Oh, she tried to cover for you, but there’s just so many times you could be ‘on the loo’, ‘brushing your teeth’, or ‘just popped out for some milk’.”

“Mickey, you weren’t too hard on her, were you?” He can get overbearing at times. It’s alright him berating me as if I was an errant child, but I don’t like the thought of him taking his ire out on my friends.

“Of course not! But in the end she told me the fucking truth and told me about that asinine text you sent her. You left her around midnight and went off alone. And ended up with some man. And fuck it, Janna. What the hell has happened to you?” Now he breaks off his tirade, and looks at me properly for the first time. He reaches out his hand, and gently turns my head, “Fuck, I knew something had to be wrong. How did you get that? What did that bastard do to you?” He touches the bump and cut on my forehead, and I wince and move away.

“Jesus! This is exactly why we watch out for you, girl. Now tell me what the fuck happened to you!” As he raises his voice, another man appears from behind him.

“What’s happened? Fuck, Janna! You fall or did you get hit?” Ben’s noticed my wound a lot quicker than Mickey. “Joe, get out here, man. Janna’s been hurt.”

Oh, shit, now there’s three of them. Might as well get this over with. “Who else is here? Is it everyone?” I sound waspish. I can’t help it.

Ben’s voice confirms he’s present when he yells out, “Liam, Rory! The wanderer has returned.”

“Hey, girlfriend! They’re all here! And now you’re in trouble!” A female voice this time, Sunny, Mickey’s sister and Rory’s long-term girlfriend laughs, but throws a look of sympathy my way.

Mickey’s arms are folded over his chest. At his sister’s words he shakes his head, and his taut features don’t relax one bit. “Yeah, she’s in trouble. Whatever she’s done, she’s worried us sick. You better have a good story, Janna. We were about to report you missing to the police.”

My head, which had been feeling much better, now starts to ache again, and that’s probably what makes me snap, “I’m twenty-two years old, I’m a grown woman. For fuck’s sake, I don’t have to report my every action to you!” My eyes flick round the five men glaring at me, “If I want to stay out all night, that’s my prerogative. And anyway, I told Mara I was with someone and I was safe.”

“She told us that, yes. But wasn’t particularly forthcoming about who you were with.” Mickey’s not giving up.

I throw up my hands, “Just leave me alone.” I try to brush past them to go up to my room, but I’ve got five angry men to get past, and they’re not moving out of my way.

Ben’s hand comes out and takes hold of my arm, “Not so fast, darling. Not until you explain, this.”

This being the wound on my head.

I inhale and exhale loudly. God these over-protective males frustrate me at times. Knowing they won’t stop badgering me until they get the truth, I might as well get it over with now. I’d hoped to avoid a confrontation, but any chance of that disappeared when Mara was unable to provide a good back story, though she had covered up for me as best she could from what Mickey had said.

Oh well, at least they’re all here, I won’t need to explain more than once. Letting out another deep sigh, I give in, waving toward the sitting room, “Okay, I’ll tell you what happened.” They’ll only concoct an even worse tale if I don’t tell them at least some of the truth. I lead the way in, and take my normal seat at the end of the three-seater couch. Christ, they’re going to flay me alive.

Mickey takes his place beside me, Ben next to him. Rory and Liam take the armchairs, and Sunny plonks herself in her customary fashion on Rory’s lap. Joe pulls up the pouffe, the leather footstool almost collapsing under his weight, his long legs folded so his knees are to his chest. When we’re all here, we usually gravitate to this seating arrangement.

I take a second to glower at them in turn, in the vain hope that going on the offensive will offset their anger, “What I do is my business. If I get into trouble that’s down to me.”

“So, you have got into trouble?”

Of course, that’s the bit he focuses on. “Oh, for God’s sake, shut up, Mickey. Else I won’t tell you anything at all. I’m here, I’m alright. That should be enough. Can’t you keep your nose out of it, just for once?”

“We promised your mother...” Ben drops in their normal justification, but this time I shrug it off.

“I was sixteen. Ben, Sixteen. Six bloody years ago. I think I’ve grown up some since then and should be able to look out for myself.”

Pointedly nodding toward my forehead, Rory butts in, “Obviously not.”

“And you’ve never made a mistake? Got yourself into any hassle that wasn’t your fault?”

He’s unrepentant, “I’m not you.”

No, he’s not. And for some reason, they think I’m special. I lean back in the comfy seat, resting my head against the cushion. I know six pairs of eyes are upon me as I try to restrain my temper, knowing their concern comes from the right place, even while it’s immensely annoying. Six years ago, my parents had had a car accident. My father was killed instantly, my mother lived only long enough to elicit a promise that the group would look after me. And by group, I mean band. A precocious but gifted guitarist, I’d joined Anarchy Rules a year earlier, when I was just fifteen. My parents didn’t like the idea at first, but agreed after giving the five other members, all male, a strict vetting and instructions to be hands off themselves, and keep all other males away from their sweet baby girl.

When my parents died, with no relatives around to take on a sixteen-year-old teenager, they kind of adopted me. And had taken my parents’ message to heart.

All I’d ever wanted to do was play guitar. As far as I was concerned, I was living the life of Reilly, becoming a full-time musician once I’d left school. I was doing what I loved, touring, trying a hand at recording, and working to make a success of our band. That I was chaperoned on dates at first didn’t concern me—most of the boys I’d met seemed a distraction from my music in any event. During the evening I normally found myself composing songs in my head or new riffs, and too preoccupied to listen to conversations going on around me. Some dates they didn’t even need to chase off, my habit of zoning out putting them off without trying.

It wasn’t hard for me to be a good girl, living by the rules I’d been set. Surprisingly slow to mature, despite the companions I had in my life, and having more than once walked in to see one or other of the guys in action with a one night stand, I’d never felt any stirrings of my own sexuality, or the need to have a personal life. That is, until recently. Now I’ve started to become restless, feeling an increasing need to break out of the comfortable cocoon surrounding me. Last night was the first time I’d pushed at the boundaries. And look at what could have happened. Maybe they’re right, and I’m not safe to be allowed out alone.

Then, if I don’t make my own mistakes, how will I ever learn? Being a member of Anarchy Rules has become my whole life. But what if it’s not enough for me anymore?

“Janna,” Mickey growls, he’s getting impatient.

“Okay, okay.” I sit forward again, “I was wrong, alright? Look, I went out with the girls like I told you, but they wanted to go clubbing, and I didn’t. I was making my own way home.”

“Why didn’t you call one of us?” Joe’s glance encompasses the other four men’s nodding heads.

“Because I’m twenty-two years old!” I snap, “I’m not a child. I should be able to get back here alone.” Four identical looks of incredulity are thrown at me, accompanied by growls of refute. Yeah, well, by the state of me, perhaps they’ve got a point. Taking a deep breath, I proceed to give them a blow by blow account. Rory and Liam, our Irish twins, clench their fists when I speak about the attack.

The former so irate he prods Sunny to move to the floor, while he stands and paces the room. “He threw you against the wall? Stole your stuff? Did you report it to the police?”

Shaking my head, I swallow, “I didn’t get a good look at him, so no, I didn’t report it. What good would it have done? He left the bag, but took everything in it. I’m sorry guys, he’s got my keys and my address.”

“Fuck!” Mickey’s cheeks glow red as he sucks in air through his teeth, “Fuck, Janna. We need to get the locks changed. And you’re not going to be left on your own until we do.”

At this I don’t object, I certainly don’t want my attacker paying me a visit.

“So you went to hospital? Is that where you’ve been? A & E?” Sunny’s mouth turns down as she continues, sympathetically, “The waiting times are horrendous. You’ve probably been there all night.”

She’s offered me a way out, but I’m too honest to take it. However overbearing they are, it’s not in me to lie. “No. I refused to go to hospital.”

I’d tried to avoid it, but there’s nothing else for it but to explain exactly what happened. They listen, and one by one jaws drop and eyes widen.

“You went into Tops and Tailends?” Mickey says disbelievingly, before getting to his feet then looming over me, one hand resting on the arm of the settee as he speaks right into my face, so can I feel his warm breath, “You know what the fuck kind of place that is?”

It’s true I’d seen some rather weirdly clad people entering, but hadn’t had time to look around, “No, I didn’t get a chance to find out. There was a stairway just inside the entrance, and a security chap took me straight up to the manager’s, or owner’s, office. Bates, I think he was called.”

“Thank fuck for small mercies! Hang on. You met Bates?” Mickey swipes back his long hair, which has fallen over his shoulders, “Have you any idea of what the fuck you were getting into? What in hell’s name made you go in there?”

“Wait. What?” I shake my head, surprised they think I had a choice. “I ran to the nearest place, Mickey. I had a man after me. I wasn’t going to stop to check what sort of business it was. I was lucky that somewhere was open. What are you talking about?”

Liam’s laughing, the bastard, his loud chuckles starting the others off. I look around, waiting for someone to enlighten me. Sunny’s looking as mystified as myself.

It’s left for Joe to let me in on the secret, “It’s a BDSM club, darling.”

BDSM? “I, er…”

“Bondage, Domination, Submission or Sadism, and Masochism.” Rory clarifies unnecessarily. “Have you any idea what goes on in there?”

I can feel my face burning. I’ve read books, of course I have, so I’m pretty sure I could guess, and don’t need him to draw a picture. “Well, I didn’t go inside, and I didn’t even stay very long. Just long enough to be patched up.” I don’t know why I feel the urge to touch the steri-strips, but I suppose it’s to emphasise what happened. “Wait.” It’s just dawned on me. “How do you guys know of that club?”

“We’re not the ones who have to explain,” Mickey growls, “It’s you that needs to tell us what the fuck went on when you got inside.”

I glare at the tone of his voice, but don’t remind them again I’m an adult.

Reaching forward to the coffee table, Joe picks up the makings for a joint, then sitting back, starts to roll it. “So, what happened then? If you didn’t stay there long, why the bloody hell have you only just come back?”

And now I have to explain exactly who took me home. And of course, cause a predictable eruption about me going off with a strange man.

“For fuck’s sake, girl. Of all the stupid things you could have done, that comes right at the very top.” Mickey had retaken his seat, now his clenched fists are bouncing off his thighs, “You went home with someone you’d only just met and who you knew absolutely fuck all about? Why the hell didn’t you ask for some money, get a cab, and come home?”

I just stare at him, and then look around at the look of censure on everyone’s faces. Put like that, it does seem like I acted pretty crazily. But this scene is exactly what I’d wanted to avoid. “I told Mara. I sent her a message.”

“You told that bitch? She was probably drunk and in bed with a man she’d picked up,” Ben scoffs. Hmm, seems I’m not the only one aware of her reputation. “She knew who you were with? Why didn’t she tell Mickey when he asked? We’ve been going out of our minds.” I feel a twinge of guilt that I’d worried them so much by telling Mara it was a secret. Ben leaves his seat, and comes to crouch in front of me, covering my hands with his, “What happened, Janna? Did this sheikh touch you? Did he… Were you forced…” His fingers stroke my hands, and the fallen look on his face makes me want to reassure him.

“He was a perfect gentleman.” I put his worries to rest quickly, “He didn’t touch me at all. Except when he woke me up to check I didn’t have concussion.” I didn’t think it would be helpful to mention he’d spooned behind me most of the night, or, that if he’d seemed at all willing, that I might have allowed things to go further. Which would be farther than I’d ever been with any man before. It’s a strange confession for someone my age. Not only has there not been anyone who’s come up to my over protective guardians’ very high standards, it’s only recently that I’ve started being interested in what it is that makes the women the guys bring home scream with such delight. Oh yeah, I hear it all from my room.

“And he was a real-life sheikh? What was he like? What’s his name?”

Trust Sunny to grab hold of that part. I grin, “Yeah, he is. Sheikh Jasim, he’s called. He’s obviously very rich. But, normal with it, if you know what I mean? I wouldn’t have guessed he’s got a title until the other man used it.” I remember him offering to make me a cup of tea earlier with no airs and graces.

“Was he good looking?” Her eyes are gleaming.

Christ, yes! I shrug, dismissively, “All right if you go for that type, I suppose.”

Mickey’s looking at me carefully, I’m not sure I’m fooling him.

Rory’s tapping his fingers against his nose, “Jasim. Sheikh Jasim.” His eyes open wide, “Fuck, no. Sheikh Jasim. Jasim fucking Kassis. Tell me you that wasn’t who you went home with?”

My own eyes crease, what is he talking about? “He didn’t tell me his surname, so I don’t know.”

Mickey looks across at Rory, tilts his head to the side, “There can’t be many Sheikh Jasims that would be having a meeting with fucking Bates now, can there?”

“And that’s what’s worrying me.” Rory nods back at him, before his eyes settle on me, “Please say you’re not going to see him again.” He sounds worried, but I put him at ease.

“I’m not going to see him again,” I parrot. But have to ask, “Why?”

Joe lights the joint, sweet smelling smoke wafts my way, making my nose twitch, but I don’t feel it’s the time to remind him I don’t like him smoking inside. He inhales, then lets out more of the disgusting vapour. “Because, sweetheart, he owns the most exclusive fucking BDSM club in the UK.”

My jaw drops. Jasim? Not only is he into a lifestyle I can’t even begin to imagine, but he owns a club? No wonder he wasn’t interested in me. God. Overcome with embarrassment, I wish the ground would open and swallow me as I remember just how innocent and naïve I must have seemed to him. Dropping my head into my hands, I try to hide my blushing face. And not the least of my thoughts, is just how the other group members are quite so au fait with the type of establishment we’ve been discussing. Deciding it’s probably best I don’t know, I stay quiet on the subject. Peering through my fingers, I see Sunny looking at me. Her brow is creased, and as she opens her mouth I wonder what she’s going to contribute.

When she speaks, she surprises me. “Hang on, guys, this could be just the opportunity you’re looking for.” It’s the last thing I expected her to say.

Rory reaches forward and tugs her back onto his lap, “What you talking about, hun? You thinking of getting entrance to his club?” His eyes light up as if he’s considering the idea.

She punches his arm, “No, I’m not. You know I’m not into that.” She stares at him until he gives a rueful nod. “Let me go a mo, and I’ll show you.” She slides off again, falling to her knees and crawling over to the coffee table, and fumbles about underneath on the low shelf where we toss old mags and newspapers. “It’s here, somewhere,” she mumbles to herself. “Ah, yes. I knew I didn’t throw it out.” She backs out with a bridal magazine in her hands.

“What you got, woman?” Rory points to his lap, and she returns to him. His eyes narrow as he sees the name of the mag she’s holding, and his eyes flit to his twin’s. Uh oh, trouble in paradise? Is Sunny getting ahead of herself?

Completely oblivious to her boyfriend’s reaction, Sunny flicks it open to the centre spread, “Look, it’s the venue you were looking for.”

Rory stares at the open page, his mind obviously working, if the myriad of expressions crossing his face are anything to go by. He taps his fingers to his lips, then indicates the page, which the rest of us have yet to see. “Sunny might have something here, you know?”

“What you talking about, bro?” Liam gets up and goes to sit next to his twin. Not for the first time, when they’re next to each other, I notice for anyone else it would be hard to see any difference between them. It’s only the years of experience that enables me to easily tell them apart. He takes the magazine out of his brother’s hand.

Sunny nods at the page, and then explains to the rest of us, “You know what you’ve been discussing? Finding a backdrop for the video for your next album. You know, what we’ve been spending all those hours tossing ideas around? You wanted somewhere unique. Somewhere different.”

“You can’t get anywhere much different than a real-life harem in an Arabian palace, can you?” Liam’s eyes spark with interest.

Passing his joint to Ben, Joe sits up straight, “Chuck that over here, Li.” After he’s retrieved the magazine that landed on his head, he studies the page and his eyes light up with interest. “You know, you could be onto something here.”

“Give us that.” Ben pulls it away, and Mickey looks over his shoulder. “I see what you mean, it’s just the sort of thing we’ve been talking about. But going to, where is it…” he pauses to read the text, “Amahad, wherever the hell that is… First there’s the cost to consider, then we’ve got to persuade the top man to let us film in his fucking palace.”

I’m thankful that Sunny’s at least removed the heat from me, but for the life of me I can’t see the connection between the man I met last night, and the article in the magazine. Leaning over Joe’s shoulder, I read the headline, Exciting New Hen Party Venue. I continue reading how the ancient harem in an Arabian palace has been converted to cater to such events.

Either Mickey’s sister’s gone mad, or she’s planning her future.

But then she enlightens us, “See what it says here?” Sunny’s now perching herself on her brother’s knees and pointing half way down a page, “Jasim Kassis is the middle brother in the Kassis family. And if he’s got up close and personal with Janna, he might just be able to get us permission.”

I stop being a spectator at that, “There was absolutely no up close and bloody personal involved. And I hardly know the man enough to ask him such a huge favour. I don’t even know how to contact him again.”

Rory’s eyes are gleaming as he stares across me, “You wouldn’t be asking for much, Janna. Just for him to use his connections to get us access for a couple of days, maybe a week or so. We’ve got the songs down pat, we wouldn’t need long. Come on, babe, use your feminine wiles for once.”

“Sexist or what? And I thought you wanted me to hide my wiles.” I glare at him. Talk about a double standard.

“Not asking you to get down and do the dirty with him. Just get us permission to film in the harem.”

“Hang on a minute, Rory. I’m not sure the budget will stretch to that.” Mickey’s hand’s toying with his long hair, loose at the moment, and reaching way past his shoulders and down to his waist. “We’ve got a film crew to get over to Amahad, as well as us and all the equipment. I thought we’d be filming somewhere in this country.”

“Tight bugger,” Joe butts in. “We’ve got money allocated for this. Remember, we planned for it to be a professional effort, make a big splash and help us get known? Come on, man. Live a little.”

“We deserve some success after all these years. Our previous YouTube vids have brought in some new followers, but they were cheaply made amateur crap. Speculate to accumulate, man.” As Liam speaks, Rory slaps him on the back.

And then all of them turn and look at me. My heart rate increases. I grasp they’re giving me the excuse I need to make contact with him again. A shiver runs through me at just the thought. And then the practicalities hit me, and I remind them, “We didn’t exactly exchange contact details. I don’t have his phone number, or know how to get in touch. I went to his flat, but there’s no way I could find it again.” He’d passed me his business card, but I’d left it in Bate’s office. I remember putting it down after I’d called Mara.

Joe snatches back the joint and takes a long drag, he stares at the glowing tip for a moment, “Babe, it says here he works at the Amahadian Embassy, and heads up AmaOil. And Bates must have the information about how to get in contact with him at his club. There must be a hundred different ways to reach him. It will be no problem to find out. And,” he points the joint toward me, “You’ve got the perfect excuse. You want to thank him for helping you.”