The Wildcards

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Chapter 7

Charlie follows Asher out of art class and down the halls toward his German class. “Are you going to prep rally? Or giving your teacher the slip?”

“Die Lehrer kennt mich zu gut, ich kann nicht davonrutschen.” The teacher knows me too well, I can’t slip away.

She lets out an aggravated sigh, “That’s not at all annoying.”

“It annoys you immensely,” a twisted smirk crosses his lips, clearly enjoying the fact. “And why, little fox?” He cocks a brow at her. “Would you make it worth my time?”

“I don’t like secrets unless they are my own. It’s why I learned Spanish. The others are a result of... it doesn’t matter.”

“Which makes those reasons interesting perhaps,” he shrugs, “For one who’s easily bored you waste your time in a language you already understand, why?” He casts a sideways glance towards her.

“I had no interest in German at the time, and I already know Spanish and French. That leaves Italian. And yes,” she smiles, deflecting away from the fact she didn’t give a reason as to why she’s avoiding Italian. “I will make it worth your while. What do you have in mind?”

“Why, what gain is it to you, Ms. J.V., to have me there?” A twisted smile crosses his lip before he bites his lip ring, “You’ll have your boyfriend there for you.”

She cuts him a glare, “The gain is, knowing you can’t score points while I’m stuck at a pep rally bouncing my little ass off.”

Tilting his head back, Asher releases a rich laugh as his hair momentarily falls away from his face, revealing his sharp jawline, “Oh yes, I’ll definitely not score as I sit there surrounded by girls, many of which have realized the value of skirts.” He tilts his head slightly at her, “Did you already forget last week’s lunch?” He raises a brow as he reminds her of the two girls he’d gotten off in the middle of the cafeteria with the use of just his hands.

“I didn’t forget. I already told you hand jobs don’t count. I can’t exactly go around jacking guys off and letting them jizz in their pants, now can I?” She gives a little shiver as her nose wrinkles up at the thought. “That’d be nasty.”

“The rule was so long as they come, that’s your own issue if you can’t stand the idea. It’s hardly your pants.”

“Still doesn’t count,” she shrugs, not giving two shits what he says. “I’m amending it in. It’s already irritating enough that the boys seem to be right. I don’t know how you do it, but you’ve got almost every girl in this school hypnotized.”

“They’re hardly hypnotized,” Asher rolls his eyes, “nor is it what they say about me as you well know.”

“Oh no, hypnotized was my word. I wasn’t going to repeat what they say. I’m a lady after all,” she bites her lip, holding back a grin.

“All women are ladies, it’s the term we use to describe your sex,” Asher rolls his eyes.

“Wow, you have no sense of humor, do you? Anyway, what do you want to make it worth your time to go? Maybe I just want to stare at that pretty face while I cheer my little black heart out.”

“Run and hug me afterward,” he flashes her a coy smirk that shows it would be more than just a simple hug to some.

She narrows her eyes at him, “You’re going to ruin my game. You realize that, right? It’s going to piss Ty off and I’m going to have a one tall ass shadow for weeks.” She lets out a huff, “Fine. I’m losing anyway.”

“You act as if he and his friends aren’t trying to sabotage me.” He scoffs, shaking his head. “And I told you before your boyfriend doesn’t count.”

“I don’t care about your game,” she playfully nudges him, “It’s my win I’m concerned about. But no, now I’m going to be still having a whole lot sex with zero points, cause Ty’s going to go full possessive to prove some dumb ass point.”

“Sounds terrible,” he flashes her a sideways look, “enjoy your little cheer and game later tonight. I’ll be going to a party with my brother,” he smirks.

“Guess you’re not going to tomorrow night’s dance either, right? I heard rumors that every girl was disappointed in this school that they aren’t going with you,” she cocks a brow up at him.

“I’m not wasting what little money I have on some school dance. Especially when I’d lose one of my most lucrative nights.”

“You need a better heist than the IceHouse if that’s where you’re going,” she mutters and sidesteps a girl that’s trying to trip her out of jealousy. “I have one job I do every year, that lets me coast by. Course it’s just me that does it, and I blow it mostly on weed and cigarettes. Buy friends some nice gifts.” She shrugs. “Different situations. But still I make a lot of that one job.”

“It’s hardly the only thing I do but nice jobs mean rich people. Debutantes and system trash don’t mix.” A look of disdain causes his lip to curl in disgust, “Unless they want to make you one of their little toys for their pleasure.”

“Well, I was offering for you to be my date so that you could get in. I’d even split the big haul with you plus let you keep whatever you slip off my parent’s guests. But,” she shrugs, “if you’re not interested.”

Stilling mid-step, Asher turns his full gaze on her, something few can handle, but she doesn’t seem shaken. ”Why?”

Turning to face him, she grows serious. “The reasons are my own. As you pointed out I’m just a rich girl. I don’t need the money. I’m doing the job either way if you want to help you can. I’m not telling you why I’m doing the job though.”

Thinning his lips, Asher’s gaze seems to burn into her making it feel like he can see into her very soul. “What would be required of me. I’ll warn you now I don’t own suits, they’re pointless for someone like me.”

“I’ll get you the tux ” she waves off, “and you can take what you want. Just don’t get caught.” He scoffs and rolls his eyes. “I usually do it by myself, but you can be my lookout for me. The big item though is a bottle of wine. It serves my purpose and is easy to get. We just have to make it the last item of the night and slip out once we get it.”

Biting his lip ring, Asher’s gaze turns distant as his mind plays with the information at his disposal. Ash would be better for this, he knows the values of expensive things but... He wouldn’t like the crowds and mingling... That would be an issue.

“Fine, but my brother gets to see the finds before we split them to sell.”

“You can have them all. The wine though. I’ll need enough to buy my year’s worth of weed at least.”

“Could be worth up to a half-million depending on the brand and year.” He raises a brow at her, showing he has at least some knowledge on the finer things in life.

“I know exactly what it’s worth. I know my wines.”

“So does my brother,” he counters.

“As I said, I have my reasons and funds isn’t it. Well not the main one anyway.” Looping her thumbs into her backpack straps, she cocks a brow up at him waiting for an answer.

“Fine, but if you try and set me up I’ll be gone before you can blink, little fox. And if all you need it for is drugs...” he flashes her an appraising look, “I know a better supplier.”

“You don’t even know my supplier,” she chuckles, shaking her head. “That’s a little presumptuous, don’t you think? So, this brother of yours, am I getting him a ticket and dressing him too?”

“You use the fallen,” his gaze flicks apathetically to me, “After all your Ty-Ty is one. Probably at market value too given his reputation. And no, Grimm might have the best eye, but in such a situation he would be more of a liability.”

“I have my own dealer, thank you very much, and I’ll give you details about my parents gala. You’ll have the sore displeasure of meeting them beforehand and riding with us. My sincerest apologies.” She wrinkles up her nose, “trust me giving you the bigger cut is payment for having to deal with them.”

His turn empty like Ty’s often do as an almost dead soullessness fills them, “I’ve dealt with worse. Do you expect me to impress them and be anything but myself?”

"God no,” she rolls her eyes, “be yourself. I hate fakes. If you are going to fake it, be a complete ass, you’ll be doing me a favor.”

“I’m told my natural personality is very off-putting. Especially to authoritative figures.”

She raises a brow, “Is this it? You’re ‘natural’ state?” She gestures to all of him.

Around him the air seems to chill as a wolfish smile crosses his face, “Isn’t that the million-dollar question. I am the Boogieman, so,” he gives a small shrug, “I suppose you’ll just have to find out, won’t you, Charlotte.”

“I suppose so,” she grins. Ever since he found out her full name he refuses to call her Charlie. She hates her full name, but oddly enough she doesn’t seem to mind hearing it come from his lips.

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