Title: Deal of Chances
Chapter: 1/2
Pairings: Derrick Harrington/Massie Block, Kemp Hurley/Massie Block
Rating: Relatively Mature [As in, I planned this one shot with smut, but then changed my mind by splitting it up.]
Warnings: Alcohol use, alternate universe, bets on people for people, drug mentions, dubious consent, gambling, gang mentions, and language.
Word Count: 3,890
Disclaimer: "The Clique" is the property of Lisi Harrison and Alloy Entertainment. This is a work of fanfiction and written for fun, not profit. No copyright infringement intended.
Summary: Derrick sets out on a mission to secure a deal.
Dedication: To Nalanda [deanwinchesters], my fav ever. Thank you for the encouragement. I really wouldn't and couldn't have written this without you.
Author's Notes: LOL. So as you can tell once you start reading, this whole plotline was set up for the dirtiest, smuttiest smut ever. I'm almost kind of sad I had to edit it all out and PG the crap out of it.

Still, there is disturbing content [heed warnings] that no one except for me will probably enjoy, LOL. But then again, this is fanfiction, written by me, for me. So... I might rewrite this with original characters and post it on Tumblr or something, maybe. Set in a world where Derrick and Kemp are gang members or from mafia families or something, just know they're no-good people involved in drug trafficking, okay? God, one-shots are hard, I always have so much background info I want to include. I should have made this a multi-chap, in hindsight. Told in Derrick POV for funsies.

Sorry, I can't help but write dysfunctional Massington. It's a problem.

If you're wondering about Wicked Games, starting May 8th, my priority list for writing will be as follows: Wicked Games, these one-shots, Surprise!, and then Shots, Shots, Shots.

Deal of Chances: Part I

##

There was a pounding in his head that told him he had cut it close, taking off from New York at the last minute and only just stepping off the plane hours before the meeting, but he didn't regret it. Surveying the dimly lit casino through a haze of bitter cigar smoke, Derrick Harrington swirled the scotch in his hand slowly. The sight and the sounds of chips clattering and the loud laughter of well dressed people only added to throbbing behind his eyes. He hadn't been looking forward to this meeting at all and Derrick's body seemed to be agreeing with him.

He wanted this over with as soon as possible.

The only reason that he was here brokering this deal was because his father was still overseeing things in South America and Sammi was as far away as she could get, trying to distance herself away from what they did, what they do.

Otherwise, he wouldn't be here at all, waiting in a crowed casino and rebuffing eager women while waiting for Kemp Hurley. The Harrington and the Hurley families went way back, as allies and as friends, their children growing up together. That was, until the Hurley's decided to start their own Mafia family, Kemp's father screwing Derrick's and Kemp screwing Derrick over himself.

That had been back in college and back when Kemp and he had been roommates and best friends, where Kemp had taught him loyalty meant as much to him as family, which was jack shit from the way they severed their gang ties. Kemp had burned all the remaining bridges between them by fucking his girlfriend. Derrick had beat him within an inch of his life for the double betrayal.

He was the last person his father should have sent to broker this deal. There was no lost love between him and Kemp.

Derrick turned his head toward the direction of the elevators and downed the rest of his drink in one go. The burn in his throat woke him up a bit and warmed him up for what was to come. The arrival of his old friend couldn't have been better timed. Kemp, and the bodyguards accompanying him, noticed him instantly. They were headed straight his way. Kemp looked better than the last time he saw him, but that wasn't saying much, considering what went down. Derrick pushed off his seat and with a tug on his suit to straighten it, stepped up to meet them.

"Derrick," Kemp drawled, locked and loaded with smirk that turned Derrick's stomach with its familiarity. "I should have known he'd send you."

With the Hurleys as the rising family in New York, his father sending Derrick, second in line for boss, could have been taken for an insult if Kemp chose. But Derrick knew he wouldn't, they needed each other. What Derrick was set out to discover was who needed the other more.

So Derrick grinned, knowing there was nothing friendly about it. "It's almost as if you're unhappy to see me."

Kemp sat down at an empty table, his legs spread wide and confident. Derrick joined him and watched with impassive eyes as his friend waved his bodyguards away. Derrick wondered how often Kemp went around with bodyguards and whether it was just in case things went sour. He smothered a grin, a real one this time, at the notion that Kemp hadn't forgotten who won that round.

Both Derrick and Kemp paid the waitress who had swooped in with drinks for them no mind.

"How's the old man?" Kemp asked. He propped an arm up, leaned back in his chair, and stretched his legs out. His Bottega's shone even in the low lightning.

"Let's just get down to it," he said instead of answering, pushing his drink away and leaning forward in his chair. He glanced around, but the noise levels of the casino and now the bar guaranteed their privacy. "Here are the terms. 40,000 kilos a year, you supply the workers, we supply the boats, and we supply the connections. We'll deal with the rest."

"See?" Kemp sniffed. He knocked back his drink carelessly. "How do I know that once the boats pass, that you won't sell us out and fuck me over?"

Derrick smirked, predatory. "That's a risk you're going to have to take."

"We've had other offers, better offers. Your connections are nothing compared to the others who have come calling. So you see, Harrington, we don't need you."

The emphasis on his last name was a warning. The Hurleys didn't need the Harringtons. Not anymore. Derrick wondered if he was bluffing, if there really were other offers, because if so, the Harringtons would be the only ones losing in this scenario. They needed in on this.

"How about a game?" Kemp asked with a tilt of his head toward the game tables, after watching Derrick process this new turn of events. "Of poker. See, I can afford to be choosy. You impress me and it's a deal."

Derrick weighed his options. Normally, he'd be all for it, but Kemp knew all his tells. It'd be all up to luck for him in a game with Kemp. Derrick resisted the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose. Only Kemp would balance his decision over a game of cards. He was sick of all the double crossings, sick of all the games, and sick of Kemp's fucking face. He wanted this over with, but his father wanted this deal. He sighed internally.

He met Kemp's eyes. "Alright. You're on."

##

Kemp had jack shit, he knew it, but Derrick was going to let him win anyways. His hand wasn't that great and he already had a hefty sum in his corner, most of it Kemp's money. Kemp was just having shit luck today, because he wasn't normally this bad. Or at least, he hadn't been in the past.

Still, Derrick was winning by a long shot. They'd been playing for hours and the deal was his. His playing sealed it, but Kemp was stubborn. He had always been stubborn and he never knew when to quit. Derrick had always sworn that it would be his downfall.

Derrick shifted slightly in his seat. An obvious ploy, to give the impression that he was bluffing, a fake tell. He wondered if Kemp bought it. Probably, considering that he was winning by a wide margin. Kemp was down half a million.

"Fold," Derrick huffed, tossing his cards and making sure they landed face down on the table. Honestly, he was tired of this fucking game. Maybe this win would satisfy Kemp. Build up his ego, just enough to accept defeat, and help him seal the deal between their families. "You win. You satisfied, man?"

"Not really," Kemp said, collecting his winnings from the pile in the middle of the table. His smile wasn't encouraging. "You're not even really playing."

Derrick didn't deny it. His old friend was right, his heart wasn't in it. He wasn't personally invested in this, he had no motivation. He hated that he was forced to make nice with Kemp. The only reason he was here in the first place was for his father. The only response he gave though, was, "You have nothing I want."

Movement caught the corner of Derrick's eye. There was a brunette in a long, dark burgundy dress, walking across the casino, her long sinuous legs tantalizing from the slits on the side. She was something to admire, the way she held herself; slim, erect, confident. She practically glowed in the low lighting of the casino. A woman who knew she was all woman, especially with the way she made Derrick's pulse race. His heart lifted at the sight of her.

Only to drop into his stomach instantly.

There could only be one reason she was heading their way. His connection was confirmed when she stopped behind Kemp, leaned over, and pressed a kiss to his cheek. "Winning big, babe?" she asked with a sly smile. Of course a girl like that would be tied to Kemp Hurley. It was karma shitting on his face again.

Tucking her hair behind her ears, she looked up and met his eyes. And it was like something clicked and locked into place. She had the most striking amber eyes, framed with dark lashes, and it was as if the wheels of destiny itself was encompassing him, as fucking cheesy as it was. He could tell that she felt it too, from the way her breath hitched suddenly, as if they were already connected.

Kemp tilted his head. "Massie, this is my old friend Derrick Harrington. Derrick, my girl, Massie."

Massie brought her hand up with a little wave. She was beautiful, but it was more than that. She was Derrick's kind of beautiful—unforgettable eyes with a hint of sadness in them, as if she knew too much about the world. She had pouty lips that Derrick wanted to taste, fine lustrous dark brown hair, regal features, and the grace to go with it.

He wanted her.

And meeting his brown eyes, he could tell she knew it. Her hand dropped and she was suddenly wary, on guard almost. She turned her attention to the table, at the pile of money on his end of the table, the pile at Kemp's, and turned back to her partner.

"He's cleaning you out," she teased, her fingers finding the hair on the back Kemp's neck with familiarity.

This was surprising to Derrick. Kemp never allowed these sorts of liberties from any of his relationships in the past. But then again, it had been years, how well did he know Kemp, anyways?

"Get me a drink?" Kemp asked in response, nodding his head toward the bar. Massie dropped her hand from his hair instantly and straightened up. Even he could tell that she was pissed, she left without another word.

"Nothing you want, huh?" Kemp said the moment Massie was out of earshot. It wasn't a question. There was a cocky smirk on his lips, and it didn't bode well for Derrick.

Derrick met his old friend's eyes head on.

"I'm not a fucking idiot, Derrick," Kemp snorted. "You couldn't take your eyes off her."

What was the point in denying it? Honestly, he felt bad for her. He wondered how long they had been together, whether she knew about Kemp's family business or point of their meeting today.

Kemp leaned back in his chair once more. "Tell you what? We play one more round, all or nothing. You win, you get the all money, you settle the deal, and you get a night with Massie."

It was a shock to the system, to hear an offer thrown on the table like that. The smirk on Kemp's face was sickening now.

"I don't think so," Derrick finally said. It wasn't just about Massie, it was about the deal. And to leave the fate their deal to chance, luck, was too risky. They'd been playing for hours; Derrick, with impressive wins, he should have sealed the deal fair and square anyway.

"I'm serious," Kemp said, his eyes malicious. "We'll play for it. You win this last round, you get it all."

"Maybe you should talk this through with her before you offer her like that."

"She'll do what I say," his old friend assured him, his smirked broadening. "She likes you too, I can tell. Come on, Derrick. I just want to play a round, where you're all in. I want to see how bad you want it. And I want to beat you when you're actually trying."

Derrick was tired of his ex friend's sick and twisted games, sick of the sight and sounds of cards and chips, and pissed off the sight of Kemp's fucking smirk. His father told him to use whatever means necessary to secure the cocaine, hadn't he? And if he won, if he won a night with Massie, well, it'd be poetic justice for what happened in college, wouldn't it? He glanced over at the bar, where Massie stood chatting with the bartender, barebacked in that dress, with endless smooth skin.

There was no way. Derrick couldn't even bring himself to believe it. No way it would really happen.

He was in it for the deal.

"You're a sick fuck," Derrick finally rasped at Kemp, but even so, he was pushing his chips onto the center of the table.

"So are you, Derrick," Kemp grinned, "So are you."

Derrick signaled for his own drink. Now that the end was in sight, he wanted to be drunk. No, he needed to be drunk. Instead of making him more invested in the game, the deal only made Derrick kind of nauseated. Not Kemp though, the notion that he had something Derrick wanted seemed to excite him.

He had found the chink in Derrick's armor.

The dealer dealt him his hand. Massie walked back over, glass of scotch in hand. But she paused before setting it down beside Kemp, as if she knew something was up. As if they were giving off vibes. Derrick wondered how Kemp was going to break it to her.

But Kemp broke it to her straight up. He smiled at her and said, "We're playing for a night with you, baby. What do you think about that?"

"I think you better be fucking joking," Massie snapped, clutching the drink in her hand so tight, Derrick wouldn't be surprised to see it crack. She had mouth on her; it was a stark contradiction to her elegant looks.

Kemp grinned smarmily, all slime, with no fear to any bodily harm to his person. "No joke, darling. If Derrick wins, he gets all the money, you for the night, and a sealed deal of 40,000 kilos."

Her amber eyes were pure fire, but she set Kemp's drink down on the table calmly.

"Fuck you," she snarled at Kemp, but in a move completely surprising Derrick, she sat down at their table. She was so furious, so gorgeous, that Derrick felt bad for her—just not enough to call it off completely. This was his chance to seal the deal. He needed those 40,000 kilos. At least, that's what he was telling himself.

Massie met his eyes, all anger and amber and fire. And Derrick read her completely in them. Fuck him over, they said. Beat him to the ground, they said. Win, they told him. She wanted to hurt him, harm him. She wanted Kemp to lose everything.

Derrick lifted his cards slightly for a peek. The odds were in his favor. He kept his face impassive, waiting for the dealer. And on the seventh card, he pulled a straight.

Pure chance.

Derrick shifted in his seat, his fake tell; wanting Kemp to think he had it, to think he won.

"Show," Kemp finally said.

Derrick laid out his cards. Kemp barely had two pair. His old friend sat still for a moment, staring at his cards, before his face broke out into an unsettling grin. "Luck was on your side, my friend."

He shook his head and knocked back the rest of his drink in disgust. He wasn't even sure he believed it. "Chance."

"Either way, you win." Kemp sounded satisfied, rather than angry. Derrick knew that Kemp had been playing him the whole time. It really hadn't mattered to Kemp whether they sealed the deal or not.

"You fucking asshole! You sick son of a bitch!" Massie suddenly cried, kicking back her chair with a loud clatter and drawing the attention of the other occupants at the surrounding tables.

Kemp ignored her. Instead, he turned to Derrick. "When do you want her?"

Massie raised her hand as if to strike him, but Kemp's bodyguard caught her hand before it made contact. Derrick watched the interaction with unreadable eyes.

"Now," he said.

Kemp raised his eyebrows at that. "You sure? You look dead on your feet, buddy. Tomorrow, when you've relaxed…"

"Now," he repeated slowly.

Kemp nodded in response, watching as the dealer handed Derrick the slip of his winnings. "We'll work out the details of the deal tomorrow then."

Massie wrenched herself free from Kemp's bodyguards grip and faced Kemp. "You're sick," she told him. She turned to Derrick then, her face flushed and her eyes bright. "Let's go."

Without another word, she turned on her heel. Derrick barely spared Kemp a glance before following after her.

##

She was pissed.

Massie's long legs scissored up the distance across the bar and casino toward the elevators, Derrick trailing after her. The back of her dress dipped exceptionally low—and she held herself in a way that merited second looks, back straight, head held high. Derrick had never had a type, but he thought he just discovered it, alpha girls like Massie. Her beauty was almost imposing; people's eyes met hers as she walked before darting down, knowing instantly she wasn't a woman to be messed with, only rising, returning to trail after her the moment she passed. Derrick would bet everything he had that it happened wherever she went.

He already had, hadn't he?

Derrick wasn't a fucking idiot though. He knew Massie wasn't going to fall into bed with him just because Kemp Hurley told her to. Still, he couldn't let her go. It'd be just like Kemp to rescind the deal if he turned her down. Plus, it'd look like Kemp never paid up and Derrick never collected. It'd be bad for both of them.

He couldn't let her go.

Massie stopped before the elevators, stabbing the down button harshly. She brushed her hair roughly out of her face. Her hair swung, hiding her back, long and lush and begging to be grabbed. Derrick was half hard just looking at her.

He couldn't let her go. Worse still, he didn't want to.

He hoped she stayed as pissed as she was. He hoped she stayed so pissed that she fucked him out of spite, just to hurt Kemp.

The elevator doors dinged open and she strode in. Derrick jabbed the lobby and the close button before anyone else could approach. The doors slid shut. The tension ascended in the enclosed space. Derrick could feel the heat she was radiating. Massie didn't look at him, only stared at her murky reflection in the chrome doors. She was still pissed, so Derrick knew to keep his mouth shut. He could also tell that she was someone who couldn't stand the silence; he waited for her to speak.

"I'm not an object to be sold, a deal to seal. I don't belong to Kemp, or you, or anybody," she finally said, when they neared the ground floor. "I'm not a prize to be won."

"I know," Derrick told her. He knew that. She was a royalty, a princess, and worthy of more than scum like Kemp and scum like him.

But he couldn't let her go.

She must have known that. He didn't have to force her; she followed him out the lobby, and stood with him as he waited for the valet. The Caribbean air was windy, but warm, but still she shivered. In fear? Or in anticipation? Derrick couldn't read her.

The moment his car rolled up, Derrick pulled open the passenger door for her. Massie hesitated, before sliding in reluctantly, gracefully. Derrick shut the door after her with resolution. He rounded to the driver's side and slid in. He turned and watched her profile, arms crossed, head turned out toward the car window, eyes searching the casino. He wondered if she was expecting Kemp to call it off.

Derrick knew he wouldn't. Kemp probably thought he was doing him a favor. He knew the way his old friend's mind worked. He was paying him back for his betrayal back in college and trying to make amends through Massie, along with allowing the deal.

"I can't let you go," Derrick said. "You have to stay with me at least until morning."

Massie ignored him, head still turned away. The only indication he received that she heard was the uncomfortable shift in her seat and the crossing of her legs. His eyes were drawn to them, sleek and smooth, like honey dripping from a spoon. He wondered if her predicament was slipping in yet, if she realized what she what had happened and what she was in for. He pulled the car into drive and drove.

##

A/N: I'm twisted, I know. The last part is about 80% written. You might want to beware the next chapter anyway, because we get hints of sexy times bow chica wow wow. I'll have it up literally tonight or by tomorrow afternoon.

xx