by Aurora Yeo
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Copyright © 2017 by Aurora Yeo
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Wesley’s Revenge
Bonus Chapter
Bad Girls
By: Aurora Yeo
©Aurora Yeo 2017
The strobe lights were blinding Wesley’s eyes, a never-ending torment that couldn’t quite seem to leave him alone. Music trailed after every step he took, yet Wesley knew at that moment that there was perhaps nothing that could match up to the one voice he could listen to hours on end.
He remembered his parting words to her that night. It had been a playful comment, something that everyone would have expected him to say and speak as fluently as his first language. It rolled off his tongue like a forbidden declaration, yet the words spoken hurt him more than it probably did her.
“I don't need you to bring me home. I'll be having company tonight most likely,” he had said before sauntering off in a great exit toward the kitchen of Ryan Smith’s amazingly designed home.
It had barely even been long enough since Wesley’s family had returned to their hometown in the City of Angels. Los Angeles, California, held more than the world could ever offer Wesley, and that was because of a person to whom he had given his heart ever since he could remember. Through childhood, Wesley Jerald grew up in the companionship of his younger brother and his sister. The three were triplets and were fortunate enough to have a loving family and a home that could find joy even when times were tough. This home, however, had been continuously moving and searching for a missing family member ever since Wesley was just seven years old.
Growing up, Wesley lived in the lap of luxury only because of an older brother he had never quite met yet. Nathan Jerald was a whole ten years older than Wesley, and ever since he was thirteen years old, Nathan had left their home to find a job that could properly give his siblings a life he never had. Though Nathan had never quite explained what job he had found, he had repeatedly assured his mother and his father that the job was quite legal and in fact very well-paying.
It took some time for Wesley to finally get used to the idea of having another family member around. Though Nathan did not live with them in the same house, he had promised that he would always be near and there for his family should they ever require his assistance.
Returning to California had been a sweet, nostalgic feeling for Wesley. It bubbled within him, sending wave after wave of tormenting emotions and memories. His past caught up with him in a good way, and it took him so very little time to readjust back to the Californian life. Back to the life in which he was no longer the black sheep of the family, and he no longer had to keep moving. He was finally free to be himself and build an entirely new life here with the people he loved.
And that was the most refreshing thing that had ever happened to him in the past ten years.
Crossing the area, Wesley shoved his way into the kitchen with much ease. It hadn’t been a problem for him mainly because of his towering height. Bending down, Wesley casually picked up a can of Coke before taking a step back. The party raged on behind him, and while usually this would have been a scene Wesley was used to, it still slightly peeved him out that other than his siblings and Avery, there was still no one Wesley knew. Though California stayed the same after all these years they were away, the same couldn’t be said about the people. Everyone would at least change a little in their lives, and this made Wesley frown. Using Blake as an example, not everyone was the same as they used to be.
“Hey, Ryan!” a random partygoer shouted across the music, a red solo cup in his hand while he waved enthusiastically. Wesley did not recognize the man, but he sure did recognize the person who replied.
“Arthur, good to see you.” Ryan laughed, clapping Arthur’s back as both chuckled heartily. “How are you liking the party so far?”
“Like always, Smith, you throw the best parties around here. That is an unchallenged feat.” Taking a good chug at the drink in his cup, Arthur beamed proudly as Ryan grinned in reply. He must have noticed Wesley looking on from a distance away, for he soon walked over.
“Now that’s a face I don’t think I’ve seen for a very long time,” Ryan said, casually popping open a bottle of beer before handing it over to Wesley. “Wesley Jerald.”
“So the rumors are true. Your parties really are the wildest.” Gratefully taking the bottle, he took a small sip of beer, his other hand still clutched tightly around the can of Coke.
Ryan’s eyes immediately narrowed down onto the soft drink, a single eyebrow raised as he pointed over to the red can rather questioningly. “I didn’t know that you preferred sweet diabetic drinks to good hard alcohol. I pegged you for a quite different man.”
“The Coke is for my friend,” Wesley said. “She’s designated driver.”
“Ah,” Ryan replied. “It’s a she? Why go home with her when there is such a large array of girls to choose from here?”
Spreading his arms wide, Ryan took a quick glance at the spacious kitchen. It was no lie, Ryan had invited plenty of women to the party. Some even looked like they could be sorority girls from a nearby college. However, it was no way to speak about a woman like that, and it made Wesley see red. He didn’t care that Ryan was a little too drunk himself. How could he have known? Ryan Smith had always been a rather frivolous man, always drowning his deeper sorrows in superficial alcohol and strings of beautiful women.
“I’m not interested in getting batshit drunk and laid with loose women who do not carry themselves with enough pride.” Prodding a finger in Ryan’s chest, Wesley snarled with much more venom than necessary. “I’m here to help Avery open herself up. Not to please myself in such manners.”
“Avery?” Ryan asked with shock in his eyes. He laughed once, pushing Wesley’s hand away before taking a step clos
er. “Avery Chase? Ex-cheerleader and the most popular student to grace the halls of Crescent Grove High?”
He must have taken Wesley’s silence as approval for it took him mere seconds before reaching for a bottle of vodka hidden under the kitchen sink.
“Well, I’ll be damned,” he slurred. “By any chance, is Summer here?”
“No, she isn’t,” Wesley confirmed. “And even if she was, what makes you think that she would go with you? I don’t see her talking to you in school, or even outside of that.”
Alright, perhaps Wesley had purposely said it to trigger Ryan. Throughout this entire conversation, the former was not pleased in the least bit with Ryan’s behavior and attitude. He thought that teaching him a verbal lesson and adding in a heavy blow to his ego might tame his old friend a little. Wesley was wrong.
“Are you saying that I can’t get a girl when I want to?” Ryan asked, his jaw agape mockingly as he placed the bottle of vodka down on the counter. “I am telling you, getting girls to drop to their knees for me is easier than breathing. Even your little pet, Avery Chase, would spread her legs in a snap of my fingers. All whores do, and that’s a fact.”
Unable to control his temper, Wesley saw red. Swinging the half empty bottle of beer, he used it as a weapon to knock Ryan straight on the head. The latter stumbled back a few steps, brown liquid dripping down the sides of his head as she stared shockingly at Wesley.
“Don’t speak of Avery that way. You hear me?”
“And what are you going to do about it?” Ryan taunted, cracking his knuckles before raising his voice. “You really think that you are worth shit to her? She plays everyone like a fool, and she will do it to you too. That’s how her bunch of friends are like. They’re all unreasonable pains!”
Wesley couldn’t be too sure if he really was the one who threw the actual first punch. That had always been a problem for him, not knowing if he had the luxury of getting a perfect right hook on his opponent before his opponent did him. He was shocked that those foul words could leave a human being’s mouth and show no sort of vile aftertaste. It must be some sort of sick joke that didn’t quite tally with proper laws of humanity.
Though he had fought in continuous street fights during his violent outbursts before his return to California, Wesley’s punches weren’t continuous. He had about three punches in, on top of the beer bottle head smash, before Ryan finally attacked back, throwing punches left and right. The latter’s fist connected with Wesley’s jaw, making him grunt in pain before blocking the next punch. In comparison, Ryan was much weaker and far less experienced. It took one more attack straight against Ryan’s cheekbone before he was knocked out, falling to the floor with a thud before the silence grew deafening.
Since he was so immersed in the fight, Wesley had not even noticed that there was a crowd of onlookers, all eyes wide and filled with shock as they gaped and pointed in his general direction. Instinctively, Wesley reached a single hand out to wipe his nose, not quite surprised to see a red streak across it like a mark of a kill.
Sirens blared from outside the house, the commotion so loud that most people had started to scram. All except a few of Ryan’s friends as they stood their ground, their arms folded across their muscled chests.
“What is going on in here?” a voice of pure authority spoke. When Wesley glanced behind the group of football players, two police officers stared back at him. His eyes were fixed on the unconscious body before the smaller and much scrawnier police officer leaped into action.
He bent down, placing his ear toward Ryan’s chest before lightly tilting the unconscious boy’s head left and right. “He’s still breathing but in serious condition.”
The police officer certainly had not been kidding. Blood was starting to ooze out from the side of Ryan’s head where Wesley had used a beer bottle to hit him with. His face was blue-black all over, and his perfectly sculpted nose was crooked to a side.
“You’re that Jerald kid, aren’t you?” the beefier officer asked, retrieving handcuffs from his belt before inching in toward Wesley, and he didn’t even bother to run. He knew what he had done, and he was willing to face the consequences. “Not a good thing for me to keep seeing you, kid. This would be the third time this month.”
In practiced movements, the officer clicked the silver cuffs over Wesley’s wrists, roughly tugging at it to make sure it was secure before leading him out of the house by the shoulder.
“Alright, party’s over!” the smaller cop yelled into the house.
Not a single soul replied to him. It wasn’t that they were afraid of him; no, quite rather it was the opposite. It was just that they were still too in shock of what had happened that their minds still could not comprehend the severity of Wesley’s actions. This could be the case that would put him in jail permanently. Though he had hidden the first two arrests rather well from Avery, he doubted that this could be so easily evaded again since practically the entire student body had just witnessed what had happened.
The car ride toward the police station was painful. There was just something about sitting at the back of a car restrained from further movement, filled with an empty void of pure silence as the seconds ticked on mockingly. Wesley wasn’t afraid of going to jail. Like mentioned, he had been in enough fights to be familiar with the insides of a jail cell. It was the thought of the amount of disappointment Avery would be in when she finds out that made his guts flip in perfectly timed somersaults.
It was the routine work of the American police force. First, to pull open the bars of the cell before he was roughly shoved in. The officers would then take off the handcuffs, walk out, lock the bars in place, and whistle a merry tune under their breaths.
Wesley slouched his arms over the horizontal bars of the cell, peering out as much as he could. It took the officers about ten minutes before one walked back in, his hands tucked in the pockets of his pants as he stopped in front of Wesley’s cell.
“You’ll have to stay here for the night, kid. Apparently, your parents are out of town, and no one is picking up the phone at home. Then again, you’re pretty used to this place, aren’t you?”
This officer was not the one who had been sent out on patrol and unfortunately brought Wesley in. The officer that stood before Wesley was much more caring. He was also a friend.
“Can’t help it, Dallas,” Wesley said, shrugging. Removing his hands from the bars, he slowly walked toward the furthest edge of the jail cell before sliding down, sitting on the floor with his right arm nonchalantly placed over his right leg. He almost looked at home. “Just don’t tell Nate about this, okay?”
“Your brother ought to know everything about his younger brother.” Dallas frowned, his eyebrows creasing as he took a step closer to the cell. He then mocked Wesley’s previous stance, placing his arms on the horizontal bars, resting on them. “He cares about you, and as his friend, I have a responsibility to tell him. What was it that got you in this time?”
Officer Dallas Rokos was a friend of Nathan’s. Though none of the two had ever clarified how they met other than just “work,” Wesley had grown close to Dallas and accepted him as an honorary member of their family. This did not mean that Dallas often lets Wesley get away scot free. In fact, it had been Dallas himself who had brought Wesley into the police station the first two times.
“I might have sent someone to the hospital,” Wesley admitted, shrugging.
“You got into a fight again?” The note of disapproval was strong in Dallas’s tone. He shook his head, his eyebrows furrowed before he released a long sigh. “Wes, you promised your brother you would not fight again. It had been almost a month since the last time you came in. And yet you still got yourself into a fight?”
“That jerk was practically begging for it,” Wesley grumbled under his breath. “He was talking shit about my friends and the people I love. I can’t just stand there and let him degrade them like that.”
“What he said might not be right, but what you did was defi
nitely wrong as well.” Chastising, Dallas clicked his tongue before squatting on the ground so that he could look at Wesley eye to eye. “Remember what happened back in New York City? The New York police department had so much trouble looking after you that you were nearly shipped you to reform camp. You just got back. Do you really want to go into actual jail so quickly?”
“No.”
“You nearly killed someone back in New York. Do you remember what you did to him?”
“It was a just a black eye, Dallas.”
“Wesley,” Dallas scoffed. “You gave him a fucking concussion so serious he nearly lost his memory and had a very high chance of dying.”
Both men stared at each other for a second before breaking out in laughter, their voices echoing in the room as Wesley slapped his knee.
“Do you know how ironic this is?” Wesley smiled, leaning back against the wall as he gestured between them. “You were the one who taught me how to properly fight. Just because I received a black eye in New York City.”
“You didn’t even need my help back then, kid.” Shaking his head, Dallas reminisced. “You already packed a mean punch.”
“Yeah, but you taught me even more advanced fighting tricks. And yet now, I’m sitting in a jail cell because of those tricks that you taught me, while you nag me like some old grandmother about how I should stop fighting.”
“Oh, how the tables have turned!” Jokingly, Dallas raised both his arms to the air as if he was pleading the sky for redemption. “I plead for forgiveness, almighty one.”
And it was because of Dallas the rest of the night in a jail cell had been tolerable for Wesley. It was difficult enough to sit on a cold hard floor for twelve or more hours, much less without any entertainment since his phone had been confiscated. Yet to have someone as close to him as a brother sit with him till dawn finally took pity on him and broke across the sky, it was a sort of blessing.