𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐪𝐮𝐞 | machine gun kelly

46

A/N:
some cool graphics for our mains? I'll be making some more proper ones once I have the time, but I guess these will do for now. Also, feel free to play the song I attached while reading this chapter!! It's the vibe I wrote to <3

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IF I HAD ONE OF BOSS'S EXPENSIVE GUNS FOR every time he infuriated me, I would've long sold them all and shipped myself away to get my son, alongside spending the rest of the sum making sure he couldn't follow. A detainment perhaps, in a cell somewhere, or maybe I could spare a gun to put a bullet in each of his legs.

"Last night a little dancer, came dancin' to my door,
last night a little angel came pumping on my floor.
She said come on baby I got a license for love,
and if it expires, pray help from above."

The Billy Idol song pumped through the bluetooth speaker settled on the corner of the sleek light wood table, as Connor bobbed his head along to the music and scribbled furiously on an A4 paper with the utmost concentration-in midst of an artwork that I was forbidden to see until completed. The speaker sang the song on the same table he worked at, a blue light flashing from the small thing.

I was in the kitchen, occasionally glancing over my shoulder at the form of my working boy as I fried omelets for both of us.

Outside the sun had only just risen. The crystal clock on my kitchen counter said 7:00am and it was a Friday.

"In the midnight hour, she cried more, more, more.
With a rebel yell, she cried more, more, more.
In the midnight hour babe, more, more, more.
With a rebel yell, more, more, more."

I lip synced the lyrics, distracting my mind from the arduous task the boss had nestled on my shoulders for today. My hope of having ample time to spend with Connor was seemingly breaking at the edges. Noah had looked at me oddly when I had complained to him last night. He didn't say anything, but I knew he thought that I was delusional. I had already had Connor for more than a week, hadn't I? But then again, Noah hadn't birthed a child in his life, so what would he know.

I was to accompany some men on an errand today. A shipment was coming in and I was to sign for it under my alias and fake identity card-a rite of passage for all major shipments so that if tracked, they led to a dead end. The men all had fake identities, but for some reason the boss thought it prudent to use mine each time. The boss had looked for his own benefit when he had given me an alias, a fake identity, and a business. Half of everything I earned from my designs and the sale of my clothing lines went to him.