Page 2 of Worse Than Wicked
She climbs into the passenger seat, and I slide into the back of Baron’s Audi e-tron next to their two school bags. They spend all day together at college, and even though they don’t have any classes together—Mabel is a junior now, Baron a freshman; Mabel is a forensic science major while Baron is focusing on neuroscience—they go to the same school and drive in together every day. Sometimes I wonder about the best part of Mabel’s day. Is it the moment I get out of the car in the morning, when she knows her time alone with Baron begins? Or does she dread the moment they drop me off and she’s at his mercy?
“How’d your final go?” Baron asks Mabel as we pull away from the unobtrusive building that houses our operation.
“Good,” she says. “I’m pretty sure I got everything right except maybe two questions. I knew almost everything on it.”
“You should,” I mutter. “You sure studied enough.”
Baron glances at me in the rearview. “Everything good in Wonderland?”
It’s ironic that he named the location after the pearls people call Alice in Wonderland, a Baron Original Recipe that has half the college students in the country getting fucked up and fucking their brains out at parties. The building where he set itup is the furthest thing from a fairytale—a drab, nondescript red brick square with barred windows that looks abandoned but is owned by some non-existent shell company he set up online, so the city never bothers about it.
“Every day’s a thrilling adventure filled with new delights,” I say sarcastically.
“You know we couldn’t do any of this without you, right?” he says, watching me in the mirror. “You’re the backbone of the whole operation.”
“A monkey could do my job,” I point out.
“That’s not true,” Mabel says, twisting around in her seat. “Besides, if you weren’t there, what would you be doing?”
She’s right. I’d probably be passed out in a ditch somewhere. That’s the best case scenario. There’s no way I’d have gotten into a good school like she and Baron did. I have no skills, no prospects. Cooking drugs is probably the best place for me. At least then I get the product for free.
“Alice pays for all of this,” Baron says as we pull up at our posh townhouse in the trendiest neighborhood in the city. “If you didn’t work there, we wouldn’t live here. You’re paying for us to go to school, vacations, everything.”
“You’re our sugar daddy,” Mabel says, squeezing my knee before turning to undo her seatbelt.
Baron gestures around at the place we chose for the three of us, a perfect fit for each of our needs. We can walk to local breweries, coffee roasteries, and cafés; record stores, art studios, bookstores, and vintage shops. Even Mabel could walk alone at night around here.
Not that we’d let her.
The neighborhood is safe, it’s thriving, and it’s pricey as fuck. Baron loves it.
I can’t tell if Mabel does or if she just appeases him by agreeing.
We climb out of the car and head inside. Unlike Baron’s last place, there’s no padded basement with torture devices and a starving girl. The place is light and airy, modern and elegantly decorated. The only girl here is Mabel.
I watch her hang her backpack and slip off her shoes. Since the day Baron made her break her toes, she’s only run once. Of course it was when I was supposed to be watching her, so Baron got pissed at me. Since then, I’ve watched her more carefully. I don’t like letting her out of my sight, not even when she’s with him. She’s slippery, unpredictable. Every time I wake up and she’s not in the bed, I start to panic, worrying that she’s out with another man again, that Baron will kill him again. That this time, we’ll be caught.
Maybe she wants that. Now that she knows what he’ll do, she could set him up.
“Are you excited about our trip?” she asks when she sees me watching her.
“No,” I say, scowling. “Why would I want to go somewhere cold as fuck and not see anyone for the holidays?”
“It’s not much colder than New York,” Baron points out.
“New York had parties and fun shit to do.”
“And Havoc Harbor has us,” Mabel says, coming over to wrap her arms around my neck. “It’ll be fun. Just the three of us. No homework, no studying, no school or work.”
“I still don’t see why we can’t go home,” I say. “Your family knows where you are. Our family knows where you are. You’re not hiding anymore.”
“Because I tried to kill Royal’s girlfriend,” Baron says from the table, where he’s set down his bag and is petting Seeley Boots, who isn’t supposed to get on the table but likes to lie there when we’re not around.
“You went back for graduation,” I point out.
He exchanges a look with Mabel, and I wonder if they’ve talked about this, and if it’s me they’re worried about returning to Faulkner, not Baron.
“What?” I demand.
