Carnage by Sarah Bailey

Two

Francis

I stared down at my watch, wondering not for the first time why I even put up with this shit day in, day out. They should be here by now. Don’t know why I expected anything different. Those three had no timekeeping skills, nor did they care how long they made people wait.

Prescott, the narcissistic fuck, would probably be primping and preening his dark blonde hair to make sure no strand was out of place. As if he cared about anything else other than his appearance and getting his own way. He had every reason to. He was the face of our company, but by fuck, did he need to learn a lesson in humility. Or maybe he simply needed to rein his shit in.

I looked up to find Drake strolling in, his shoulders tense. At least he knew what was at stake here. The guy took life far too seriously if you asked me, but it meant he got shit done. He nodded at me as he came to a standstill by my side.

“They’re late,” I muttered.

“What else do you expect?”

Prescott liked to make an entrance. But West? Well, he was a fucking loose cannon. It took all three of us to control him when he went off the rails, which happened far more often than I liked. If West went out on his own anywhere, he’d end up bloody, high on pills, balls deep in pussy or a combination of all three. Only last week he’d broken a guy’s nose for daring to look at him the wrong way. It was why we rarely held press conferences involving the four of us. You never knew what would set him off.

Drake, West and I stayed in the shadows whilst Prescott took the helm. It was how it had always been. Until now. Everything was different now.

“I expect better of you for starters.”

Drake’s lip twitched.

“Someone had to make sure Pres isn’t going to fuck up.”

“And our warmonger?”

“Fuck knows. I heard him come back late last night and he wasn’t alone.”

I stifled a sigh. West and his ever-revolving door of women. The four of us lived in the penthouse at the top of the building. We could oversee our kingdom from here. Exactly how we liked it. Being fully in control of everything. We ruled and the rest followed.

“Trouble sleeping again?”

“Always.”

Drake had suffered from insomnia for as long as I could remember. He tended to be up at all hours because of it. Stress worsened his condition, so it didn’t surprise me. We were all under immense pressure right now.

“Soon.”

His lip quirked up.

“I know.”

Drake flexed his hand at his side as our wayward friend walked in. West had his tattooed hands shoved in his pockets, his light brown hair slightly dishevelled as usual, and his amber eyes were dark with irritation. At least he’d actually put a suit on and looked reasonably smart. You never knew what kind of mood he would be in or whether he’d actually be presentable. Some days I found him lounging in his office in nothing but trackies and a dressing gown. When he did dress up, he turned heads. We all did. All of us only wore the best when it came to suits. You had to look the part in our business.

“Don’t give me shit, Frankie. I’m not in the mood,” West grunted as he came to stand on the other side of me from Drake.

I glared. He knew I hated being called Frankie. Only one person had ever got away with it and it certainly wasn’t West.

“Don’t rise to his shit,” Drake whispered.

Usually, I’d haul West out of here and give him a talking to about his conduct. Today was far too important for him to fuck up, but we were already running behind schedule. I didn’t have time to deal with his attitude.

“You know what’s at stake,” I said, ignoring Drake. “And my name is Francis.”

“Oh, I’m fully aware of the bullshit we’ve put up with for years. If this goes wrong, we all go down,” West hissed. “But whatever you say, Frankie.”

I gave him another dark look. I would not react to his taunt. Fuck knows it would only lead to trouble.

“What a sunny mood you’re both in today,” Drake said, smirking.

“I don’t know why you’re giving me shit when Pres isn’t down here yet.” West rolled his eyes. “Oh wait, I remember, you let the prick get away with everything.”

Do not rise to it. Do not do it.

I clenched my fist when said prick finally made his presence known, walking through the doors with a flourish. His blue eyes glinted as he nonchalantly strolled towards the podium. Prescott gave us a wink before he turned to the press.

Jesus Christ, he never stops.

“Apologies for my tardiness,” he said into the mic.

West scoffed next to me. I stamped on his foot to shut him up. He glared at me.

Prescott wasn’t sorry at all. He always left them gagging for his presence. The man captivated his audience and played up to his image of a successful businessman all too well. Underneath his perfect exterior, he was as rotten to the core as the rest of us.

We were not good men.

We were monsters who’d become gods.

Gods of the financial industry.

And it would stay that way if I had anything to do with it.

I fought against the urge to roll my eyes as Prescott went on about how we were expanding our business with a new acquisition and how we were planning on supporting the younger generation in finding new careers in finance. Bringing in new blood, giving them opportunities and cementing our status as a progressive company. Pity all of it was a lie we perpetuated for our own gain.

Drake gave me a sidelong glance as West ground his teeth next to me. The noise grated on my ears.

“Quit it,” I muttered under my breath.

“How about you take that stick out your arse, Frankie,” he hissed back.

“Don’t,” Drake whispered to hold me back from knocking West on his arse.

It wouldn’t be the first time West and I came to blows. I had scars across my knuckles on my right hand from the time I’d missed and smacked my fist into a mirror, which shattered on impact instead. The fucker had ducked.

“For the last time, it’s Francis.”

Thankfully, the assembled crowd was clapping at something Prescott had said, so no one else heard me.

“West, quit being a cunt,” Drake added, “Now isn’t the time.”

West snorted, flexing his tattooed hands by his sides. I ignored him, turning my attention back to Prescott. Everything he’d said was all part of our plans. To the casual observer, it may not sound like much. Pledges to do more in our industry and help the economy grow. But to us, it meant the culmination of years of waiting, biding our time until we could strike.

We’d come from very little. By all accounts, we shouldn’t be where we are today. The four of us were nothing if not determined. None of what we’d achieved had been obtained without sacrifices, or legally for that matter. Diving into the underbelly and using it to our advantage. We were unapologetic in stepping on everyone in a bid to find our way to the top. Probably why we’d made enemies. Many, many enemies.

Power is what we sought and power is what we’d gained.

My lip curled up at the side. We had made our fortune because of me. Prescott was the face of Fortuity and the Director of Marketing. Drake was our CEO. West, when he actually turned up, was the Director of Operations. And me? The Director of Finance. I ran our money and did my job fucking well. I took the small amount we had when we started Fortuity and turned it into billions.

Prescott might like to think we were here because of him, but really, it took all of us to make this company a success. We thrived because we stuck together and worked fucking hard. And now, we were moving forward with our plan to get what we all really wanted. What we’d waited for. It would only be a matter of time now.

Prescott had laid the trap, baited the bear and we would be patient whilst we reeled in our ultimate prize.

“You look happy,” Drake murmured as we stepped forward to stand behind Prescott when he’d finished his speech.

“I am.”

I glanced over, spying his indigo eyes twinkling. He knew exactly why. We all did. Even West, who looked like he wanted to bathe the entire room in blood. And he would as well. The guy took no prisoners.

“You think this will really work?”

Drake sounded hesitant.

“It has to. I’m not waiting another ten years.”

His grim smile told me he felt the same way. We’d had enough.

Prescott glanced back at us, his blonde eyebrows raised.

“You three need to cheer the fuck up,” he said under his breath, so the microphone wouldn’t pick up his words.

I plastered a smile on my face as Drake and West did the same. A united front. It’s what we had to show. Hiding our darkness underneath a carefully constructed façade. The face of Fortuity. And the men who ran it.

My smile became real when I thought about what they called us. The Four Horsemen. As if we were going to bring the apocalypse. Perhaps we would. Perhaps we wouldn’t.

All I knew was… our time had come. And none of us would allow anything to stand in our way any longer.

We’re going to have so much fun. We’re owed this.

We only had to exercise a little more patience and restraint… then we could let it all out. And watch the world burn around us.