The Wildcards

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Chapter 10

Caleb’s night is about to suck balls. Jerking her knee up, she hits him hard between the legs. Sobering quickly, she swings her leg swiftly up, landing a roundhouse kick to his jaw, before finishing him off with a cross punch, just behind the ear.

Caleb stagers slightly before falling to the ground knocked out cold. Humming a happy tune to herself. Charlie quickly gets to work. Digging a bag out of the front of her panties she grabs the zip ties out of it and ties Caleb’s arms and feet together, before rolling him onto his back. Pulling her shirt up she unties two scarves she had hidden on her garter and shoves one into Caleb’s mouth while tying the other tightly around his head.

Sitting on the boy’s stomach she pulls her shirt up just enough to unlatch Ty’s large serrated knife from its holster that sits just under her breast.

Digging her elbows into his chest she taps the flat edge of the blade against his forehead, “Wakey wakey, Caleb.”

Slowly coming too, Caleb lets out a muffled groan. “There he is,” she grins down at him.”

Digging her elbows in more she sneers, “Comfortable?”

Caleb’s eyes grow suddenly wide when he realizes the position that he’s in, muffled screams get lost in the scarves as Charlie beams down at him. His body starts trying to fight against the restraints, but Charlie seems unfazed by it as she sits atop him, “You know, Caleb, there is one thing I just will not tolerate.” She gives him a disappointed look, “You know what that is?”

Caleb muffles out a scream for help.

“Bullies. And you, my dear,” she coolly says as she slaps the flat-edged hard against his forehead, “are one of the worst kind. Now. I’m sure you remember my friend, Zeke? The one you pretended to be interested in, drugged and stripped him to his underwear, only to take embarrassing photos of him. Right? Then sent them to your friends, with the label fag on them? Remember that?”

Caleb screams louder, but it does him no good. Charlie grits her teeth and grabs a fist full of hair, jerking his head back, “I remember Caleb. Remember every little detail Zeke told me.”

Taking the knife, she bites her lip as she glides it across his throat. The sharp edges make a scratching noise against his scruff, as Caleb trembles beneath her. “Now, lucky for you, Zeke begged me to show you mercy.” She takes the knife and suddenly stabs it into the ground right next to Caleb’s head, making his eyes widen as he jerks away from it in fear. “You’re going to take down whatever pictures you put up. You’re going to apologize to Zeke, and then never speak to him again, are we clear?”

Caleb nods to the madwoman atop him. Pulling an eyeliner pencil from the bag that held the zip ties, Charlie starts to draw a black heart under Caleb’s left eye. “Good. Now as for this little threat. You will never speak of it again. Not only will I drag you down to the depths of hell with me, but I’ll make sure someone else takes care of you for me.” She slides a finger across her throat. “If I ever,” she growls pulling the knife from the ground, “hear about you stepping one toe out of line again. I will slice you open from nose,” she states, tapping the knife against his nose, and rising up to move the knife between her legs, “to nuts,” slapping those harder, and making him wince.

“When I cut you loose, you’re going to leave this party and never speak of what happened here, correct? I know where you live, Caleb.” she reminds him, “I’d hate to have your mother walk in on your bloody corpse.”

“Now, no screaming... I’ve learned how to throw this pretty thing, and will shut you up quick.”

Rolling his eyes up Caleb pleads to be let go, even though she can’t understand him. Cutting his restraints, Caleb jerks away and gets away from her as fast as his weak legs can carry him, “Crazy bitch.” His voice squeaks when he jerks the scarves out of his mouth.

As instructed, Caleb runs for the road fleeing to his car. Replacing the knife in its sheath, Charlie moves to clean up the scene and hide all evidence again.

Suddenly she realizes she’s not as alone in the yard like she thought she was. Shit. “Hello, Boogieman.” She coolly says as she rises to her feet, and turns the other side of the shed that’s hidden by a large tree.

“You should have damaged him,” Asher glides out of the shadows, his face impassive and uncaring. “Words fade, scars...” he tilts his head. “Get carved into you.”

“Yes, well,” she brushes off the grass from her knees, “I made a promise not to hurt him. He didn’t wrong me so I had to keep it.” She sighs, clearly irritated at the limitation that kept her from putting the fucker in his place.

“You should have still cut him,” Asher’s eyes run over her but not in a way that sends happy shivers through her, his eyes are dark and cold, colder than Ty’s. “The crime’s punishment was too lenient. It might stop him for a time, but as I said, scars remind while words merely fade.”

“Well, if that’s the case, then I get to play with him again, and next time.” Her eyes grow dark and deadly. “I won’t be so nice.” Her gaze falls over him, slightly surprised he seems unbothered by what he’s seen. “I told you, I make my own deals and handle them my own way. This isn’t the first time I’ve done someone a favor. Maybe Caleb will repeat,” she shrugs, “most likely will, then I really get to do what I want to him. Then the real fun begins.”

Asher tilts his head only to pull out a joint and lights it, illuminating his pale face in a momentary glow of his lighter. “And what would you do, little fox?”

She shrugs, “It depends on what he does. Definitely will make him think he’s going to lose his nuts... if I don’t actually cut them off. Or, just dig up all the blackmail I have on him and send him away for a very long time. I guess it depends on how merciful I feel.”

Inhaling, Asher waits a moment before a long cloud of smoke leaves his lips, “Set him up, let him feel what it’s like. Make him the victim of his crime. If need be, leak what you have and if that isn’t sufficient by all means,” he draws a line across his crotch.

Charlie lets out an aggravated grunt, “I do that shit all the time. That fucker,” she points to the empty space where Caleb’s car once sat, “messed with my friend.” Her jaw ticks, “I wanted him to burn.”

A cruel grin crosses Asher’s face, making him look like a true Boogieman and not the goth playboy she sees at school. “Little fox, if you did it right he would, violently. It’s not about making it appear that he is, it’s about making it happen and getting the blackmail and vindication you seek.”

She glares at him, unwavering by his dark nature, “My hands were tied. This was approved by the victim... I wasn’t even allowed to bring the knife if we’re being honest.”

“Oh I didn’t think you have it with permission,” a sly grin crosses his face, “from either the owner or the victim.” He points towards her chest or rather the knife strapped there, “Has your boyfriend even shown you how to use it?” Blurring his hand a similar knife appears in his right hand. “Sharp teeth tend to get turned on their wielders when they don’t.”

“Yes,” she huffs, “I’m just not allowed to have or use it. Hence, fucking him until he passed out then sneaking off with it.”

Asher releases a light chuckle only to throw his own in the air. “I can promise, little fox, that would never happen with me.”

“Hmm, guess we’ll never find out, will we?”

He gives a slight shrug as the knife disappears from view. “Best go tell your friend Zeke of your feat.”

She rolls her eyes, “Good night, tiger.” Starting to walk away she stops in her tracks and spins around, “Before I forget. I have your suit paid for at Men’s Wearhouse, you need to go up there and get fitted for it before you pick it up.” Walking up to him, she grabs his hand and takes the eyeliner pencil out, “You’ll need to be at my house at six on the ninth.” She scribbles the date and time down along with her address.

An amused smirk crosses his face as he watches her unorthodox method, “I have a phone, you know.” Suddenly in his hand, he tips it side to side. “Something you often text I might add. You could have just texted it.”

“Exactly where in this ensemble do you think I am keeping a phone? I remembered now. Can’t guarantee later.”

His eyes run up and down her body only making his smirk grow, “I can think of at least three places right now... and I’m not even a girl.”

Stilling the eye pencil, she slowly turns her head to look at him with a wrinkled nose, “I don’t even want to guess where this supposed third place is. You, sir,” she taps the end on his nose with the pencil, “are a pervert.”

“That would be a fourth, would you like me to point them out?” He cocks a brow. “Though for one,” he leans in, “you’d have to wear a bra. The underwear would work though, as would your garter, and his waist knife strap you’ve inventively used around your chest.”

Charlie snorts, shaking her head, “Not a single one of those went through my mind. No surprise there. I’m the bigger pervert. My therapist will be so surprised.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure of that, little fox, I am after all in the lead and...” he takes a drag of his joint. “The girls of Abraxas would tell you this... is normal.”

“Of course you’re not trying either,” she grumbles.

He flashes her what appears to be a genuine smile, “I’d never be in class if I did, or,” he tilts his head in thought, “out of a bed or girl for that matter.”

Dropping his hand, she slips the pencil back into the front of her panties. “That would be an utter dream come true,” she sighs. “If only there was such a guy.”

“Girl,” a look of dissatisfaction crosses his face, “even the semi-interesting ones are barely a moment’s entertainment, hence,” he tips the joint in his hand.

She hums in agreement, “Yup. Well, you have fun lightening our peers’ pockets. I’m going to have a sleepover! Paint nails do makeovers, eat junk food... my friend’s going to hate it.” She smirks, “Her suffering is my pleasure.”

“As it should be, though every night’s a sleepover, little fox. Unless the laws swinging by to make sure I’m behaving.”

“You should come to one of my sleepovers! It’d be so much fun!” She jumps like an excited school girl. “I could braid your hair and paint your nails!”

Raising a brow, Asher shows off his already black painted nails.

“I could repaint them,” her eyes drop to his hand, before looking up and grinning.

“I’ve had my nails painted in rainbows before, by death no less. You’d be just as disappointed.”

Sighing, her shoulders drop, “Fiiine. Don’t spend the night.” She playfully pouts. Though she never actually expected him to say yes in the first place.

“The sleepovers I attend rarely involve sleep anyway,” he shrugs. “And you know what they say about Nightmares, we roam freely at night. That kind of sleepover wouldn’t fit me. I’ve never even seen a real one.”

“It’s okay, I only have Lindsey over for real ones anyway. People don’t like to stay over with me,” she gives him a small smile.

“My brother’s the only one who tolerates my presence without wanting something from me.” He apathetically states, “Sex, drugs, violence, to fetch something they desire. Such are the reasons they call the Boogieman.”

“Well I haven’t wanted any of those things from you, and I like being around you,” she points out. “Especially tonight. You’ve been pleasant. Real even. It’s a nice change.”

“You are a fickle one,” he lightly chuckles, “I suggest ways to hurt a man and you call me pleasant. I tell you what I do at night and you invite me for a sleepover and even offer to paint my nails.” He shakes his head. “But we both know you’re lying, little fox.” Stepping forward, he invades her space. “You wanted more the second you saw me on the bus, you’re just choosing not to act on it.”

“Well, it’s hard for me to go against my nature. I can’t help the way my mind is wired. If it’s any consolation, I see all guys and girls the same way and have to choose not to act on it twenty-four-seven. You,” She grins, pushing him back a little, “offered a more interesting game than conquering you.”

Asher’s lips widen as he flashes her a breathtaking smile, revealing just how good looking the boy really is. “You’re a nymphomaniac,” his amusement lacing his words. “No wonder you’re able to keep up so well.”

“I am,” she smiles, “and I’m pretty sure I know what you are, though I’m not ready to say yet. You’ve thrown me for a few loops, and are one fun puzzle for me. You’ve kept me busy trying to figure you out.”

A look of true surprise briefly flashes across his face, showing he’s not used to people either seeing him for what he is or perhaps... caring enough to try.

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