Page 4 of Vicious Punks
My eyes widen as I place the last band aid on the heel of my foot, frozen when the thought crosses my mind. It’s crazy. I can’t possibly get away with it. I glance at the bathroom door that leads to his room. His three best friends are like family to him.
What if I turn them against each other? Make them fight over something that could tear them apart? The one thing a man can’t help but let it lead him around. It’s his cock or his heart. I’m pretty good at both, after all, Doris taught me best.
I bite my lip to hold in the evil laughter that wants to come spilling out of my mouth, and hop off the counter to hurry to my room before I start giggling manically at the crazy thoughts processing through my brain. Staring out the windows with the sun rising over the valley, I stand there with my heart racing as a slow smile graces my face.
Could I really do this?
Yes. I fucking can, I have nothing else to lose.
Tey
Smoke drifts in front of my face as I grin lazily up at the ceiling, blocking out the noises from downstairs. A typical Thursday morning in the hood, living in a foster home with multiple people never gives you a moment of peace. It’s six in the morning, and already I can hear Mickey’s purple, custom Monte Carlo bumping down the block with his music blaring. I should have stayed at Logan’s last night, but the need to shove my cock into my sugar plum was too strong. What I wouldn’t give to watch her bleed for just me. My knife slicing through her delicate golden skin as she takes every pierced inch of my hard cock. I bet she would like it, too.
“Tey! Is that weed I’m smelling?” Belva yells in a slur through my door, making me roll my eyes.
I’ll never understand why she comes up here to nag at me through the door and asks that question every day. My supply of weed is strong, only the best, so yeah you’re going to fucking smell it. With a long sigh, I sit up on the side of my bed and search at my feet for my cologne. Finding it under the bed, I spray it a few times and take one more drag, with billows of smoke clouding my room, before tossing my joint out the open window.
“You better not be smoking in my house, you little shit.” She bangs on the door, rattling the handle as she tries to come in.
“Sorry, Auntie Belva, I can’t hear you. Gotta go!” I bellow back at her, chuckling in amusement as she curses on the other side.
She really gets on my fucking nerves, always insisting that I call herAuntie Belva, even though she’s just my fostermom. I think the old bitch gets her jollies off by bossing around a younger stud such as myself. She’s currently demanding that I open the door, but I’m kind of busy looking around for my unicorn. Can’t forget the little guy. Running my hand through my hair, I swing my gaze around until the rainbow colored tail catches my attention from under one of the pillows.
My unicorn’s been through a lot with me. Foster home after foster home, fifteen in total since my mom overdosed, and dad was already out of the picture, as far as I can remember. Prison, maybe? Who knows? Ever since my prostitute of a mother died, nothing has been mine. Precious items stolen or lost after a new move and now this small stuffed animal is all I’ve got left. I’ll fucking carry it everywhere, never out of sight because it’s all I have left. A little girl named Madison gave it to me as I watched her get adopted, climbing into her new family car and leaving me standing on the front porch of another foster home once again alone. No one ever wanted the quiet, crazy blue eyed little boy who stared into your soul until you had no choice but to look away first. I’ll cut anyone into tiny pieces, and feed them to the birds at the park if they try to take my unicorn away from me.
Since my doorway is currently being blocked by a raging alcoholic, I decide the bedroom window is the best exit. I’m too tired to deal with Belva’s shit this morning, or the miserable looks of the rest of the foster kids staring at the TV downstairs. I have less than half a year left here before I can leave and get out of the system, but I told myself I’d stick it out until after high school. It’s the least I can do for the kids by keeping an eye out for them and making sure there's food on the table, since Belva has an obsession with the liquor store down the street. But just for today, I need to get out without worrying about someone else… just today.
I shove my boots on, sliding my precious knife in next to my right ankle and my cigarette pack in my mouth, as I smoothly jump out the first story window. Once outside, I grab my knife from my boot and spin the blade on my fingertips to give my hands something to do. Belva’s house isn’t in the best neighborhood, houses line close together down the street, falling apart after years of neglect. Brown lawns are littered with junk and gang members sit outside on their stoops or on the couches placed in their front yard to watch who comes up and down the street. The good thing is everyone knows not to mess with the blond haired angel who won’t hesitate to kill you. I’m kind of a celebrity around these parts it would seem. Every gang knows who I run with, my reputation.
I’m from the streets myself, born into a hard life, and I’ve earned respect from others by keeping my mouth shut… while causing the fear of Tey into them. I chuckle to myself, thinking about that one time the cartel sent one of their minions to get the drop on me, but it just ended badly for the other guy. Always remember to check a person for any extra weapons on their body, or you’ll end up with a knife up the ass. Literally.
Good times.
I think Dom, the new leader of the fucking cartel gang, La Demonio, on the east side coast got the message when I sent their little friend back in a body bag. He’s messing with the wrong people, a history he shouldn’t repeat like his pops did. If it wasn’t for the missing money and timing, I’d believe our little Latina that she’s innocent in all this. Too bad she might be working for Dom, or spying for her Demon Jokers. There’s always someone trying to claim power and you have to take out the one who’s at the top first. Maybe it’s time we took a trip to the east side and had a little talk with Dom. Just have to control Logan while we visit since Dom's father is the one who murdered Helen. At least Jin, Nicky's father stepped in and helped Franco get his revenge. The police department was doing jackshit to help their own officer. I wonder if Jin saw it as an opportunity to go under the radar and help a rookie cop, who was going places, up the ladder on his side. A bond formed and here we are years later.
I’m really glad Nicky hasn’t turned out like Jin. That fucker is manipulative and colder than a dead fish. Just thinking about Nicky brings a smirk to my face. He’s an idiot, but my idiot. He’s real good at hiding his feelings but not from me. He wants things he shouldn’t because deep down Nicky is just like me. He wants to take and take until he can’t breathe anymore, choking on that last breath as he puts one foot in front of the other, and he tries to hide behind with the cold expression he likes to wear. It was the way he was gazing down at Tillie as she sucked his tattooed cock into her pretty little mouth that told me his needs. He could glare all he wanted, but I saw a lot more that he tried hiding. The way his cock twitched as soon as her luscious lips touched the tip of him, his eyes squeezing tight for a split second, and his shirt molding to his abs as he sucked in a breath when she glared right back up at him. That image has been on repeat in my mind since the crack of dawn. The moment I got home, my zipper was down and cock out in my hand with the image of Tillie between Nicky and I. Lately, I’ve noticed more and more how Nicky looks at me when he thinks I’m not looking. I purposely play with my lip ring when I catch him staring at my mouth like he wants to bite it. Maybe he’ll want to play games with me and Tillie?
“Young man, you better be hurrying to school,” a familiar voice calls behind me, making me smirk at the strong tone she uses even though she’s seventy years old and only half my height.
“Of course, Miss Rita. You know I’m all about those good grades and school spirit.” She cackles from her porch, setting down her Coca-Cola and fanning herself with a piece of paper as she gazes at me through her thick glasses.
I don’t think she can see well because I highly doubt that she’d be talking to me. One look at me and most can tell there’s something not right with me, a loose screw. It could be my eyes, I’ve been told that it looks like I’m gazing right past the layer of skin and into a person's soul. My hair is a dead giveaway when I’m roaming late at night around the block, the Gods really cursed me with bright as fuck blond hair. It's hard to hide blood in these locks after a night of killing, but I usually pretend it’s not here as I smile and wave to anyone walking past me. I do try casually to blend in with the shadows as much as possible, black clothes, silent boots, but anyone who really looks at me closely can see the dark side of me that has you stepping back. I’m not talking about my black nail polish or the eyeliner I put on to make my blue eyes pop to scare the shit out of you. I’m talking about the way I walk, watching everyone around me without ever taking my gaze off anyone for a split second.
"You're a troublemaker, boy. Those who try, succeed in life. Don't want the law to come knocking at your door now, do you?" She squints at me, adjusting her glasses, and misses me sliding my knife back into my boot.
If it was anyone else, I wouldn't hesitate to come back later at night and smother them with their pillow, but not Miss Rita. She's a blind, old bat that seems to really care what happens around her and she looks after the kids in the neighborhood. I’ve caught her a handful of times beating little shit drug dealers off my street with just a slipper as they tried to sell to the kids. Not on my turf, I don’t want the foster kids to end up like me. They deserve a better life, where they aren’t broken. Just when I'm about to reply, the loud noise of an engine approaches from behind me but I don't bother turning around because I'd recognize that sound anywhere.
"Don't worry, Miss. Tey is going to school right now. I'll make sure of it," Nicky's throaty voice rumbles, his slight accent peaking through, but he'll deny it.
I personally think it's hot how deep his voice gets when he starts speaking Japanese. It always makes me want to grab him by the back of his neck and have his lips slide against mine, so I can feel the rumble of his voice instead of hearing it. Turning around, Nicky is staring straight ahead and pretending like he didn't go out of his way to come pick me up when I never asked him to. He's always tight lipped, his shoulders straight in that white button down long sleeved shirt, and black ironed pants sculpted to his thighs.
Why does he do this to me?
I've tried my hardest over the last couple of years to give him space until he's ready to admit he wants me, but it's been like pulling teeth. I'd rather pull teeth than wait around for him to come to terms that it's okay to like your best friend. Feelings can deepen. I wonder if my sweet sugar pie can convince him to let go. Tillie doesn't know it yet, but she's one of us. I've seen enough fucked up stuff to last me a lifetime that I can recognize it in someone else. It's how I decide if someone lives or dies.
"You boys be good, no causing any trouble!" Miss Rita shoos me away with a wave of her hand before leaning back in her chair to look up and down the street.
"Always." I grin widely and open the door to the green Camaro, smoothly sliding in with ease onto the leather seats.
