Jake Klien: Rise Of The Young Trillionaire

DREK'S REVENGE

Jake had just finished his long studio session. He had successfully recorded two songs in preparation for his open-mic night scheduled for Friday that week. He stepped out of the recording booth and put down his headphones. His producer-friend Max was beaming with smiles as he came out.

“Bro, you killed it! Those were some sick melodies you pulled out.” Max hyped him, genuinely impressed by Jake's musical abilities.

“Thanks a lot bro.” Jake appreciated him.

“Here you go bro! Your masterpieces are in this doohickey right here.” Max said, handing him a flash drive containing his songs.

“Alright bro. Thanks again.” Jake said, expressing his gratitude.

“Anytime homie.” Max responded.

“Yeah. Unfortunately, I'd have to head home now. I've got some things to put in place.” Jake told Max as he headed out of the studio.

“Alright bro, I'll show up at Les Royales for your performance. I wouldn't miss it for the world.” Max told him.

“I would really appreciate that bro. See ya!” Jake said as he walked out the door and closed it behind him.

As Jake walked home, the things he had been worrying about started flowing back into his memory. He thought about his boss, Maria. He wondered if she had already drafted his suspension letter. He felt he needed to call her and apologise for how harsh he had sounded, regardless of whether or not she was still going to fire him. He decided to call her as soon as he got home.

As he was walking, he saw a cloud of smoke and dust up ahead, he halted and then squinted to see the cause. With keen observation, he saw that it was caused by a set of bikers who were headed his way. He shifted to the sidewalk in order to give them enough space to drive past. They increased their speed as soon as they approached him. He wondered why, but then concluded that they could have just wanted to ask him for directions as he had never seen this set of people anywhere before. They stopped where he was standing and one of them came down from his bike, his helmet still on. These men were well-built, huge and looked very dangerous with the kind of tattoos on their arms.

The man who had alighted from his bike walked up to him and stared at him—a wicked stare—which sent shivers down his spine.

“Hey! Can I help you with something?” Jake asked, trying to prompt the man to talk.

“Yeah, as a matter of fact, I need your help with something lad.” the man responded with a British accent.

“What may I help you with, mate?” Jake asked him, attempting to use the British accent.

“My mate here says he's got some beef with ya.” the man said, pointing to one of the bikers, who at the time still had their helmets on.

“What? No. I think there's a misunderstanding somewhere. I've never met any of you before.” Jake explained.

“Oi, matey, he says he ain't got beef with ya.” the man called out to the man he had pointed to earlier.

The man who claimed to have had beef with him took off his own helmet, revealing his face. It was Drex. Jake was wide-eyed at this discovery. Drex was part of a biker gang. He was dumbfounded. Drex gave him a cold stare, he quickly scanned the bikers and knew that he had no chances of escaping them without being beaten to a pulp.

“That's him! That's the twerp!” Drex confirmed.

“D—Drex?! I—I—how?!” Jake stammered in fear of what they would do to him.

“You lied to me lad. Why did you lie? Momma didn't teach you to speak the truth?!” the man asked him as he landed a heavy punch on his neck. Jake fell down instantly. The man's fists were still clenched as he gave a signal to the other bikers, and they all alighted their bikes and surrounded Jake.

“Please! I'm sorry for whatever happened with Drex. It wasn't intended. I didn't mean to fight him. I was ju—” Jake tried to explain, but was cut off by another sharp blow to his mouth. In an instant, all the men rushed him and blows landed here and there. His attempts to defend himself proved futile.

When they had beaten him to their fill, they got back on their bikes, but as Drex was about to get on his bike, he spotted Jake's guitar, which was lying on the sidewalk. He smirked as he walked to it, picked it up and smirked at Jake.

“No! Drex!! Please!!! Don't do this!” Jake begged. Still on the ground, seriously wounded and unable to stand up.

In an instant, Drex smashed the guitar on the ground as it shattered. He smashed it against the wall over and over again, making sure that it was irreparable and then he mounted his bike. The bikers revved up their engines and zoomed off, leaving behind a cloud of dust and smoke.

Jake was distraught as he watched the bikers vanish into the distance. He was hurting all over. He was bleeding profusely, with bruises all over his body. The physical pain caused by the injuries he had sustained from the beating didn't really mean much to him. He had lost his guitar—the guitar his Mom had given him as a gift when he was still a child. The only memory of her he had left was shattered right before his eyes, and he couldn't do anything about it. Tears rolled down his cheeks as he sobbed bitterly.

He reached for his phone in his pocket and dialled Max's phone number. Max picked on the third ring.

“ Starboy! what's good?” Max greeted.

“Max, I—I've been attacked by a g—gang of bikers.” Jake said over the phone.

“Oh no! Where are you bro?!” Max asked, concerned.

“Not far from the studio bro.” Jake replied.

“I'm on my way!” Max assured and ended the call.