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A high school student finds a grimoire that shows how to make magical disguises. |
Previously: "The Script Takes a Screwy Turn"  Gary Chen has scraped you over and spread you thin atop one of the gym mats up in the Westside High School fuck room. You're naked and a little chilly, but you're feeling loose and warm down between your legs. Chen is also naked, lying on his back and staring at the ceiling while occasionally drawing on a cigarette. He's already offered it to you and you've already refused. "What kind of debts does Gary have?" you ask. "Do you have," you semi-correct yourself. Chen blows out a long stream of smoke. "Sick grandfather. I work three nights a week at the country club, give all the money to the family. Also most of the money I get selling weed." You blanch. "His parents know about that?" "No, I— He tells them it's tips from work. Pft. Like busboys get tips." "That must be a lot in 'tips'." "Not really." He takes another drag, continues to stare at the ceiling. "I only clear a hundred or so a month." You sit up sharply at that. "Oh, bullshit! I know what an ounce of weed costs, and I have a pretty good idea how much gets sold! I know how much I see around here, anyway, and I know you— He— Must be selling a lot more than that!" Chen only takes another drag and says, "I said I got debts. The guy who sells Gary the weed, set him up in business? He loaned Gary the money to get started, charges massive interest on the principal. That guy clears thousands of dollars a month, but I barely break even because all the profits go to pay off that guy." "Really?" You wouldn't put it past Chen—even if it's Chelsea in the driver seat—to exaggerate. He turns to stare evenly at you. "You think those assholes are running a bank? They're sponsoring the fucking Junior Achievers? It's a fucking philanthropy where they give some bright and eager little cocksucker a leg up in business?" His tone has been dark and angry since getting up into the loft, and you have to believe it was "Chen"—the character—and not Chelsea who thrust his cock in and out of you with such ravenous abandon. This also sounds more like the real Gary Chen. So: "Chelsea?" you say. He blinks once, hard, then tosses the cigarette away and pinches the bridge of his note. "What?" "Just making sure you were still there, sweetheart." You scoot over, close enough to give his nipple a quick kiss and bite. "If it's so stressful being Gary Chen—" "It's not stressful," he says. "It's just a challenge. And I wouldn't have to sweat it so hard if—" He sits up and paws at his discarded clothes. He draws out a fresh cigarette and is about to light it when he pauses, then slips it back into the package. "Never mind," he says. "If what?" His eye is dull as he studies you up and down. "You don't want to make any more masks for me." "What would you do with them?" He rubs his legs as he answers. "There's two guys. That fucker downtown, who takes my money. Gary's money." He shrugs. "And the guy who actually supplies the weed. They're crooks, Will. They're not doing anyone any good. They keep trying to force me to sell more, to expand the business. If I didn't owe them—" "Would you stop selling the stuff in school, if we, uh, arranged it so you didn't have to pay off that debt?" "Someone else would just start dealing it," he says. "Best to leave it with me. But I wouldn't— Chen wouldn't have try so hard to get people to buy it. He— I could be more relaxed. You know. Just be the guy who has some, and if you want it I'll sell it but I'm not going to try to, you know, advertise." You sigh. "So you want to use some masks on the crooks. To make them, uh, do what we say." "What I say," Chen says. "I just want to get them off my dick. Chen's dick." He pauses. "You make these two masks for me, you know, you get to make two more for yourself. I said we'd match, go equal on everything. Even though I wouldn't be getting any use out of the extras, and you'd get something from yours." You wish she hadn't added that last part. Now it sounds like a bribe. "I'll think about it," you mutter. * * * * * It's not long before you part: Steve Patterson wants the loft for the afternoon. But Chelsea molests you hard at your car before you part, eating out the inside of your mouth while squeezing your tits and rubbing his diamond-hard cock up and down your crotch. She's panting hard when you break off (and so are you), and there's a feverish gleam in the mica-like eyes that she has stolen from Gary Chen. At home, you field texts from your friends, who want to know about your crazy morning. You relate the script that you and Chelsea agreed on. All your claims—that Chelsea probably didn't frame the Garners; that it was probably Erik Carstairs or his friends; and that Chen was low-key and charming and not at all scary—are met with skepticism. And when you reveal that you'll be meeting Chen at the municipal library tomorrow for a "study date" or more, you get more than skepticism. Lin: r u crazy ODNT GO! Cindy: That's a seriously bad idea. Jessica (for both herself and Eva): u dont have to take one for the team. You insist to them all that you'll be alright. "Lin says she's going to chaperone us tomorrow," you tell Chelsea when she calls you later. ("Got some dirty talk I wanna try out on you," she gruffly informed you when you picked up.) "So let her," Chelsea says. "Really? You want her there while we—?" "While we what? It's not like I'm not going to throw you across the table and put my hand down your panties. Though that would be so hot." "We aren't going to talk about stuff?" "Not if we don't have to. It's a date. We need to set up that you like me and I like you, and that we're okay together. So it's perfect if Lin's be there. Tell her you're fine with it. As long as it's just her." His voice drops. "I'm not gonna try to entertain a whole fucking hen party." * * * * * But you decide it's still a bad idea to have a chaperone, and convince Lin not to come because she and Chen have an awkward history together, and tell her you'll get Cindy or someone else to sit with you. Then you set up some multi-dimensional text tag that gets you out of having any kind of chaperone at all. "What, is it just us?" Chen asks the next afternoon, when he trudges into the library, where you're already waiting. "Uh huh. Everyone else had a scheduling conflict." You're not sure whether to put your arm around him, so you don't, and he keeps his hands off you as well. Together you trudge up a swooping ramp to the mezzanine where the study tables are, where you unpack and spread out your books. You're a little disappointed when he takes the other side of the table instead of sitting next to you, but you assume Chelsea knows what she's doing in terms of setting up a plausible "study date" between two people who are just starting to get interested in each other. The time passes in a very business-like way, with you helping each other with the math homework. Then, about an hour into it, Chen stiffens. His eyes dart about, and he leans over the table. "Three guys just came in. Don't look," he cautions. "It's Gardinhire, Mansfield, and Kirk." Mansfield? Geoff Mansfield? The guy who stole Lisa from you? "That would be perfect, in a lot of ways," Chen murmurs—to himself, it sounds like. His brow is furrowed. "What would?" "They're sitting down behind you," he says. "We'll just keep studying, play it cool." "You want them to see us?" you whisper. "Of course. They're bound to say something about seeing us together up here. We'll give 'em a little show when we're ready to go." Then he scribbles on a piece of paper. It's a long note, and his handwriting is so bad you can't read it upside down. But when he shoves it at you, you read: What about one of those 3 for your 2nd? Pref Gardn or Kirk but Mansfd ok if you want. * To continue: "As the Gossip Swirls" |
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