Page 10 of Wild Card
“Then Digby made the pass and I?—”
“That’s a cool story, bro,” I interrupt him mid-sentence, and suddenly all eyes are on me.
“Who the fuck are you?” he snarls at me.
“Me? I ain’t no one special. Just lookin’ to have a good time, is all. Know where I can find one?” I look the fucker straight in the eye to let him know that he ain’t no threat to me.
“Are you hearing this guy?” He huffs a laugh to the guy standing beside him.
“This is the best time you're gonna get. If it ain’t enough, maybe you should leave.”
“Just when the story was about to get good?” I frown sarcastically and
hear a little giggle come from those girls behind me. I can see it throws him off when his eyes shift awkwardly.
“Shut up, Daisy. Everyone here knows you're a slut,” he calls out to one of the girls.
“Hey, now, there’s no need for that kinda talk. Girl’s ain’t doin’ any harm.” I step up a little closer to him and dust off the shoulder of his jacket.
“You got some nerve showing up inmytown, coming tomyparty and talking to me like–”
“Like what?” I interrupt him again.
“Whoa, you guys are gonna have to hold me back,” he tells his buddies, rolling his shoulders like he’s about to fuckin’ do somethin', and I shake my head at them and laugh.
“It’s cool, guys, you can let him at me. Some action might liven this party up a little,” I tell them, waiting for this guy to make the first move. Instead, he looks to his friends like he’s waiting forthemto do something.
“Come on, don’t keep everyone waitin’.” I encourage him, and when he starts to laugh, he does a shit job at hiding the nerves behind it.
“Go on, Kaleb. Spark him.” Someone encourages him from the crowd that seems to have grown bigger around us.
“Yeah, Kaleb, don’t take his shit,” another voice calls out.
“Sounds like they wanna see some action,Kaleb.” I shrug, and the fucker jerks to make a lame-assed attempt at a punch. Grabbing his wrist in the palm of my hand, I use it to twist his arm and put him straight on the ground; then, bending it back behind him, I hold him in position and climb on top of his back.
“I guess it would be hard to catch a ball with a broken arm,” I lower my head to his and whisper.
“Don’t, please don’t. I’m on a scholarship.” Everyone surrounding us must hear the fear in his voice as I use my free hand to tap over his pockets and eventually pull a plastic baggy from his jeans.
“Lookie, lookie, what we got here?” I dangle it over his head and wave it in front of his eyes.
“Give that back, shithead!” he snarls at me. All I got is three tiny pills, not enough for me to assume he’s a supplier.
“Where you get the shit from?” I start by asking him nicely.
“Go to hell,” he spits back at me.
“Not the answer I was lookin’ for.” I force his arm up his back a little higher until he wails in agony. “All I need is a name, Kaleb.”
“I don’t have a fucking name.” I tilt my head and smile when I notice the tears starting to spill from his eyes.
“You’re gonna have to give me somethin’,” I growl into his ear. “I got a friend who’s waitin’ with a truck in those woods; and I swear to god, if you don’t give me what I need, we will take you on the ride your fuckin’ life.”
“I…I got a number,” he stutters. “ I don’t know who the guy is, but I….I have his number; it’s in my phone, last number I dialed.” I immediately reach back to the front pocket of his jacket, where I remember feeling his phone, and pull it out.
“Good boy.” I tap his cheek before releasing him and standing up. Then notice the shock on his face when I slide his phone into my own pocket.
“Wait, you can’t take that…That’s my fucking phone!” he calls out to me.
