Chapter #52An Unexpected Threat by: Seuzz   You cluck your tongue. "Poor Lynch," you jeer with transparently fake sympathy. "When you can't bully a girl into--"
"Fuck you!"
"Easy, lover. You're trying to shake the gay rumors."
"Get me a new spot, Cooper Black, or Lakewood, or I'll--"
"Or you'll what?" You step close to him. "I told you what I'd do if you called Patterson again." He says nothing. "I put you here, and this is where you'll stay and where you'll do your work. And I've arranged for you to get a little help."
"I don't need Tilley--"
"Tilley wouldn't piss on you if you were on fire. No, I've arranged for one of those freshman girls to give you a helping hand." You grin as he turns very red. "Yeah, you just need the right girl to pay attention to you. So Dana--the girl who's pretending to be Dana Pak--is going to get some masks, and she's going to pretend to be various girls--I don't know who yet, but they'll be cute--and you're going to date them. Briefly. Just enough that the other girls know you're seriously poking the produce, and then you'll be able to start picking some up."
"That'll take forever!"
"Not my problem. I'm not even supposed to help you, and I'm bending Patterson's rules even by getting Joanna to help."
"Patterson won't stand for this!"
"Patterson's not gonna know, is he? And even if he did, he'll see I'm playing within the letter and the spirit of his rules, and he'll know that you're the fuck up."
Johnson has turned a ghastly green color by now, and even looks like he's going to start crying. He grabs the sack from you and stalks away.
Curious, you think. You'd not peg Johnson as a crier. You wouldn't peg Lynch as one, but bullies, they say, break easier than anyone else.
* * * * *
Carrie Carmichael--the girl who is looking like her--is sitting out front with her friends as you saunter along to the cafeteria, and she calls out your name and beckons you over. You swerve, but she jumps up and runs to meet you. "Did you get the--?"
"Yeah, good work. You have any problems? It can be tricky."
"I can be tricky too," she snickers. "I invited them over for a slumber party on Saturday. We played Truth or Dare, and while Monique was sneaking out and driving my mom's car around the neighborhood at one o'clock in the morning, I got the mask on Sarah. And then when--"
"That's clever," you say. "Now, it'll be awhile before we can turn them into slaves--"
"Be a couple of days before we could do Monique anyway," she says. "Her grandfather died, and her family's gone to the funeral. Out of town, a day's drive each way. But what about a boyfriend for me?" She grasps your belt and stands on tiptoes.
You smile mirthlessly back. "You'll have to do it yourself, like with Monique and Sarah. So don't aim too high. Has to be a guy you can get alone."
"I could get you alone, Frank," she grins. "Or your brother."
"The masks don't work on us. And if you tried something like that, I'd turn you into Mrs. Cussler."
"You wouldn't!"
"Don't even joke about trying to use the masks on us, Joanna. We're their masters." You lean down toward her. "Joe and I might not even be human."
Her eyes widen, showing sudden, deep fear. But she shakes it off with a toss of the head. "I don't know why you're calling me 'Joanna'," she says. "I'm Carrie."
"And a beautiful Carrie you are too. You shouldn't have too much trouble making one of the senior guys notice you. Just stay away from Kyle. And Jonathan. And Ian."
* * * * *
So it's a nice day all around, and you're in a good humor. Until five o'clock, that is, when Joe's phone rings. "Who?" he asks with a frown. "No, I think you got a wrong number."
"Who is it, Joe?"
He looks down at the ID, and his eyebrows go up. "Huh. Uh, we know anyone here named 'Will Prescott', Frank?"
You grab it away from him. "Who's this and what do you want?"
There's a pause. "I'm looking for Will Prescott," the caller says, and it takes you a moment to place his voice.
It's Gordon Black. You jab a finger at Joe and order him from the room. "Pretend you've found him," you tell Gordon. "What would you say to him?"
"I'd say I'm going to rip his fucking face off. Care to meet so I can see if I can do it?"
Lynch. "I got no problem with that. Where?"
"Westside. The loft."
"The practice fields," you counter. "Out where anyone can see and no one can hear." He gruffly agrees.
He's waiting with arms folded as you park and trudge out to meet him. "So this is what you're looking these days," he says. His eyes travel up and down your frame. You'd intentionally changed into a muscle shirt and shorts, so he'd see who he's threatened to tangle with. "It's an improvement, but a five-year-old retarded girl would be an improvement on--"
"You call me out here to do the dozens, Black? I got a brother back home who could play in tournaments, and I'm almost good enough to keep up with him, so you either try to take my face off or you shut your stupid mouth."
He reddens. "I didn't ask you out here to fight, though if you want--"
You step back and gesture him to come at you.
But he shakes his head. "I called you out to tell you it won't work."
"What won't?"
"Capping Lynch. Fucking him up on purpose."
"Brilliant. I knew that's what this was about. The pussy can't call Patterson, so he calls you."
"You can do what you like," he shrugs. "I'm just telling you it won't do any good. He'll make his quota."
"Good. He's supposed to. I'm not supposed to make it easy for him, and I'm definitely not supposed to help him--"
"And he'll make senior, along with the rest of us."
"Awesome. We can jerk each other off then."
"And Tilley'll still get whacked."
That knocks you off-balance. "What are you talking about?"
"They didn't tell you?"
"Tell me what?"
"I think they did. Or Tilley did. Fucker. Yeah. You see, Johansson made quota first, so he got an easy promotion. You and Tilley and Lynch, you made it harder on yourselves by coming in after him. You got in second, so you got a hard job, the job of managing those two fuck ups. Whoever comes in third gets a harder job. We haven't decided what it'll be yet, but it'll be a bitch, you can count on that. And the guy who comes in last?" He raises his eyebrows.
"What happens to them?" Your gut sinks.
"Gets turned into a golem."
Goosebumps run up and down your spine. "You guys wouldn't."
"We would," he says. "It's an incentive. Sink or swim. And Tilley and Lynch both know the price of coming in last. So they didn't tell you?" You shake your head numbly. "I'm impressed. We told them they couldn't tell you. Make it fair that way.
"Except you're not making it fair," he continues after you say nothing. "That's what Lynch says. Says you didn't even give him any masks till this afternoon. Meanwhile, Tilley is scoring right and left."
"I didn't know, Black--"
"Yeah, maybe you didn't. You just saw a chance to be a dick to Lynch. Maybe I don't blame you, he can be a real--" He shakes his head. "But now you do know, and I'm telling you that it won't work. The game is rigged, Prescott. Even if Tilley beats Lynch, we're not promoting him, and we're not letting him walk away. Enjoy your time with him."
You clench your fists. It would be so easy to beat Gordon into the ground, to break his bones, to knock him bloody unconscious. Then get a mask of him and move on Patterson. You curse yourself for not striking down these assholes earlier.
"But there's one way out," Gordon says.
It takes you a moment to react, so furious are you. You jerk your chin at him, for you don't think you can speak without your voice cracking.
"Get me a mask of Straussler. That rich fuck at Eastman. Get that for me, and I'll tell Patterson we can't double-cross Tilley."
"Is that all?" you blurt out, having found your voice through your surprise. "We've already got a mask of Straussler. Tilley got it, even."
"Well, hoo-rah for Tilley," Gordon says dryly. "I want it because I want to be Straussler. Permanently."
"I don't see anything wrong with that." You can hardly believe how quickly the threat has receded. If it has, a little voice says in the back of your skull. These fuckers--
"Yeah, but there's one more thing," Gordon continues. "I hear he's got a girlfriend. I don't want a girlfriend. I wanna play the field and pick my own."
"You can do that, too, no one would stop you from breaking up--"
"And I don't to be the bad guy," he says. "I don't want to deal with the shit or the aftermath. She has to break up with me. Make it all her fault, so Straussler is free and blameless when I step in for him."
Urgh. Now, that is a little complication. "How long do I have to--?"
"Tomorrow. I'm staying out tonight, and tomorrow I'm sleeping in Jonathan Straussler's bed. And I'm sleeping in it as a man without romantic attachments."  indicates the next chapter needs to be written. |
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