Page 7 of The SongBird's Love
“It’s alright, honey, nothing new.”
“Maybe not, but if we lose the protection of the mafia and those people know...”
“We’ll just need to hope someone will take over. ...Someone good.”
Eden took the new glasses of brandy with a sour expression on. She knew what Jack meant. They were the people of the Suburbs and those living and working there. Everyone had a story, and they hadn’t landed here by chance or mistake. There was nowhere else to go, even if things got worse. They were subject to the laws of who was stronger, where they lived. They needed that protection. If someone other than Old Man Long took over the area, they couldn’t predict what would happen next.
Trying to hide her concerns, Eden walked back to her customer, chatting with Mr. Charles as usual.
“Those are impressive legs, young lady,” chuckled the old man, bringing his drink to his mustache.
“They do get useful from time to time,” replied Eden, a bit nervous.
She didn’t like talking about her legs. She could feel stares from all over the room, curious guests, or those who had already guessed the truth.
Mr. Charles wasn’t duped either, and he gently patted her knee.
“Don’t worry, young lady. Back in my day, those were the norm. Times just change too fast for people to even be respectful of others’ circumstances anymore...”
Eden smiled, but she didn’t want to talk about that anymore. She quickly shifted the subject to something else, like the music Mr. Charles recognized playing in the background or his grandchildren who were giving him trouble. He was a nice man, just a bit too curious about a nameless hostess at times. This old gentleman was nostalgic about another time before the typical sterile and boring days in the Core. Eden couldn’t tell him how he should have considered himself lucky.
“Evening, bitches!”
How much trouble were they going to get tonight? Eden glanced toward the entrance, but this time, no one in the bar felt confident anymore.
A young Asian man was standing there with the smile of a shark and flashy clothes. Everything about him smelled like trouble, from the large tattoos covering half his face to the guns he was wearing on his belt, which had attracted Eden’s eyes immediately by reflex. She knew that model. They were produced by the Core and programmed not to shoot at any vital parts. Like most weapons the Core created, those were made for self-defense, but the bullets were still very real. This time, she got up before Jack said anything. The young man walked in confidently, followed by two Asian men, both as fat as pigs and extremely ugly. They were bald, with tattoos covering every inch of their visible skin. Their expression was that of someone who had just bit a sour lemon.
“Young Master Kris,” said Xixi, jumping on her feet and forcing a smile. “You haven’t come in a while...”
“Hello there, cutie,” he said, wrapping an arm around her waist as if she were his possession. “Ah, I’ve been busy. Busy waiting for the old man to make some important decisions, if you know what I mean...”
As he said those words, his eyes went up to Jack. The bartender wasn’t forcing himself to smile, staring at Kris with a stern expression. Unlike the earlier clients, they couldn’t handle that annoying man so easily. He kept pouring drinks and remaining composed, although the situation was significantly more worrying.
“I hope Master Long stays healthy as long as possible,” said Jack.
Those words didn’t please Kris. His smirk disappeared, and he walked to the bar, slamming his fist on the counter. Eden didn’t move, but she was ready to intervene at any moment. Jack had this under control, for now. They only had to wait until that idiot was done and gone.
“I can’t wait to kick you fucking Parts out of here. I don’t need semi-humans to work for me. You guys belong in the junkyard.”
“Noted, Master Kris.”
Jack’s calm was impressive.
If it was anyone else, he might have responded with more spite, but this wasn’t just anybody. Kris Yang was Master Long’s nephew and only living blood descendant, one of his most probable successors. He could inherit this neighborhood soon. The old man had yet to name his successor, and that wasn’t a good sign. Everyone knew being a blood relative wasn’t enough to become one of the mafia lords around there. They needed someone who was able to stand among and against the Zodiac, the ten mafia lords of the Suburbs. Each had their own territory and their own rules; hence, tensions were bound to arise anytime there was a succession issue.
Moreover, many people, even inside the Dragon’s district, were against Kris being chosen. Eden had already heard rumors about at least three other possible successors for the old man. No wonder that brat was acting more and more recklessly every day...
As Jack remained calm and ignored his provocation, the young man turned to Eden, who was standing a few steps away, staring at him. She wasn’t doing anything but looking on. Yet, Kris put on an annoyed expression, glaring back at her.
“You too, you fucking Part bitch. You’ll be gone as soon as I get that chair as the Zodiac. ...And stop staring at me!”
He suddenly took out his gun and shot at Eden’s left leg.
She didn’t move, only frowning and looking down. The bullet had put a hole in her dress, and a little piece of dark gray metal was now visible in that hole. Eden pulled her dress’ skirt to hide the hole. That bastard had done that on purpose... This time, she couldn’t hold back her glare, but her lips remained resolutely sealed. Kris chuckled.
“That’s right, keep your damn mouth shut, you little pest. People like you are just trash...”
He laughed at her and leaned over the counter to grab a bottle. Jack worried for a second, but he only began drinking right from the bottle and walked upstairs, taking Xixi with him. The young woman only had time to give Jack a glance before she was taken upstairs.