Bad Boy Rich

“Not hard, I assume. Can we go now?”

A gust of wind blows between us. Wesley’s expression softens as he puts his arms around my waist and pulls me into him.

“Yeah, sure. Are you okay?”

“Just not my thing,” I lie, coupled with a forced smile. “Let’s have some fun. Take me somewhere fun.”

It’s as if he knew that what I needed was to escape reality. A sardonic grin spreads across his handsome face, his intentions anything but good.

“You want to have fun? I know just the place…”

Wesley Rich was on a mission.

My heels drag across the dirt; my balance

compromised as he pulls my hand, stopping at a locked fence. There’s a large padlock hanging off the latch, and a sign saying No Trespassing.

Between balancing a smoke on the corner of his mouth and trying to break the latch—he was getting nowhere.

Inside my purse sat a pocketknife. An impromptu purchase during my first night here. Removing it from the secret compartment, I slide the knife out and jimmy the lock till the latch opens.

“How?” Wesley asks, scratching his head in confusion.

“Did I know how to break a lock? Let’s just say that back in high school, I had this constant need to hang out under the bleachers.”

He tilts his head with an impressed grin. “So much I have to learn about you. But for now, you wanted fun…I will give you fun.”

I follow his lead, keeping close, with my eye searching the surroundings. The sign outside said Funland Amusement Park. It was no Disneyland. Just a small booth at the front and some rides scattered around the field.

“Why did you bring me here?”

“You said somewhere fun. This is called Funland so why the hell not?”

His hand disappears into the pocket of his jacket, moments later removing a flask. I didn’t want to know what was inside. After tonight’s phone call from Phoebe and Carson’s sleazy moves—which I decide to keep from Wesley, so not to anger him—I was more than happy to drink anything and make it all go away.

“Okay, shall we hit the games first?”

I can barely answer; the spirit burning my throat and making my head spin. God…this tasted awful. It almost makes me dry heave, yet I manage to stomach whatever sat inside that flask.

I don’t know why he bothers to ask me what I wanted to do since he does what he wants anyway, pulling the tarpaulin off the game and finding a switch nearby. The clown’s head turns on, eerily moving in the dead of the night while Wesley laughs and shoves balls in its mouth.

“Everyone’s a winner right?”

He climbs over the clown’s head; a large thump sounding when his feet hit the metal floor.

“Take a pick, my lady,” he says, bowing.

“We can’t steal that.”

Minutely shaking his head with an annoyed expression, he yanks some bills out of his front pocket, shoving it in the clown’s mouth. “Better? I’ll fucking pay for one. Now pick.”

“Wesley, you don’t have to.”

“So what if I didn’t win it?” Another cigarette makes its way into his mouth; the smoke lingering in the air. “I want to buy it for you.”

“Fine, the purple monkey.”

With a pleased smile, he pulls it off the wall, passing it to me. “Sweet, aren’t I?”