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“Come on, babydoll. Don’t be like that,” one of the guys to my right says with a sick tone to his dark voice as I start weaving through cars. “We just want to play.”
I stop by Charlie’s cherry red Ferrari and turn on them, only they keep coming and my back is pushed up against the passenger’s side door. “What the fuck is your problem?” I ask, scanning over all of them. “How specific do I need to be? But don’t worry, I’ll use small syllables because clearly, your understanding is lacking. Here goes. Are you ready?” I glance around, laying the sarcasm on thick. “You. All. Need. To. Fuck. Off.”
I find Colton making his way down here and surprise, surprise, his eyes are already locked on my situation but with the lazy way he strides toward the parking lot, he’s not going to be much help. I wouldn’t be surprised if the fucker pulled out a box of popcorn and got comfortable for the show. Charlie is there though and at least he shows a little concern, but it’s not like he’s making a move to help me out.
I don’t need them anyway. As Colton said, I always play the victim, and as far as I’m concerned, that bullshit is a thing of the past.
“Now, now, Jade,” the guy says, forcing my attention back to him and making a scowl appear on Colton’s face as he hears his nickname for me being used. “There’s no need to be like that. I see how this looks and I swear, our intentions are good.”
It’s the oldest fucking trick in the book. Declaring your good intentions is about the same as saying ‘Hey, I’m here to fuck things up.’
I push up off the edge of the Ferrari and take the Colton wannabe by the shoulders before slamming my knee up into his junk. “Maybe I wasn’t clear enough for you,” I yell as he buckles over and howls in pain. “I asked you kindly to fuck off. You don’t want to see how I demand shit.”
The guy’s head is down by my crotch and despite having spent a good portion of my day watching Spencer and Colton have it out, this takes the prize of being my favorite moment of the day. “Fucking bitch,” he growls low before turning to his friends. “Fucking do it.”
Do it? Do what?
My head whips to them to find them all moving in closer and crowding me against the Ferrari. “Get off me,” I scream, having absolutely no idea what they plan on doing.
“HEY,” I hear Charlie’s voice booming, still too far away.
“Not so fucking tough now, are you, princess?” One of the guys murmur right against my face as I feel one of them scrambling around. A sick laughter comes from one of them and I hastily look around for some way out but they have me trapped.
I find Charlie jogging down toward us and Colton still lazily heading for his car in the distance. Stupid fucker. “What the fuck are you doing?” Charlie hounds only a few meters away now. “Get the fuck off my Ferrari.”
There’s movement to my side and I flick my gaze across to watch as one of them pulls out some kind of bottle. It’s dirty and the smell coming off it is enough to make me want to hurl. The guys all press into me, keeping me pinned.
I start flailing around as their plan becomes clear. The guy with the bottle uncaps it and meets my eye with a sick grin. He reaches up and in one quick pour thick, black grease drops down over my head, tangling into my thick hair.
I squeal as Charlie’s booming anger tears through the parking lot. The grease drips down onto my skin and it instantly starts to burn.
This isn’t just regular grease. They’ve put something in it.
I curl into a ball as the last of the bottle is tipped over my head. Their laughs and snickers are so fucking loud but I barely hear them over the sound of my fucking heart racing.
It hurts. It fucking hurts so bad.
Charlie starts hauling guys off me and as they’re pulled off and my body is freed, I fall to the ground in a heap of mess. I expect Charlie to come after me but when he starts looking after his cherry red Ferreri, it becomes clear what his desperation was about.
Seeing the anger on his face, the five guys start running but it’s the last of my problems. There’s some kind of acid in this grease and if I don’t move fast, I’ll end up with burns covering my skin.
Shakily, I get to my feet, leaving my bag laying on the dirty ground in a heap of grease. I start rushing toward the staff bathroom, pulling at my clothes and not even giving a shit that I don’t have something to change into. I have to get in a shower and I don’t fucking care if it means walking home in nothing but a towel. I’ll be okay as long as I can get this acidic grease off my skin.
