Lucky Me
Chapter 047
Like a wild cat on the prowl, I hunted for things in which to get my revenge.
I had several ideas swimming around in my head, evolving from tadpoles to horned toads with pitch forks.
In the brief moments after Grandma had booked it out of here (like a flunked out nun after a group of Chip n' Dale dancers) I quickly went to the control room and cut all the feed from the surveillance cameras. I'd get my feathers chewed out later, but they were not here at the moment! The mansion was mine
And I was going about to go nuts!
At first I was so happy that I went around (after the cameras were off) screaming and jumping on the couches. After two seconds of reckless thinking, I then decided to wreak havoc on the bedrooms of my fellow teammates.
I tore upstairs to the men's wing, but then I made a U-turn and went for the women's side instead. I didn't visit the 'girls' dorm' often because after getting so used to cologne, sweat, and beer smells, perfume, soap, and air fresheners was way too sweet and made my stomach turn (I still used soap! Don't get me wrong about that! There were times I thought I was the only one who did!).
I hadn't lived on this hall for a long time and so trying to remember where everyone's room was wasn't the easiest thing for me to do, until I saw the roster pinned to the wall. I forgot that most people on this side of the house were actually organized. Scanning the list, I smirked, took the marker from the 'Bathroom Duty' board and began to scribble on the roster.
Miss Rogue? I think she could take a joke, so she got a circle.
Stacey?
Hmm, she'd mentioned once that he made me 'bothered' and that was enough reason for me not to say anything. I didn't need to boost his ego no matter how small or large it was. She got an X through her name.
Miss Oreo? I shrugged. I watched her fry Bobby-Jerk and Adam before for separate reasons, but her reactions were priceless.
Paige? That slave driver. She still made me keep up with my 'lessons on skin tearing' despite the fact I was shot and traumatized! Did she care? Nope! She got her room circled several times. Not to mention I think she had it bad for my flight instructor, Mr. Warren.
Daisy-Mae? Need I even ask? She got circled.
Sheesh, compared to the male half of the mansion we were almost outnumbered 2:1!
I was sure D-M loved those odds!
Considering I had the whole day to do whatever it was I wanted, I didn't know exactly what to do, or who to do it to first, so I went to the first door (which just happened to be D-M's) and decided to go exploring in the girly-girl depths of the pink cave of gooey fluffiness.
Flicking on the lights, the normal assaulting sights filled my vision. The only cool poster the girl owned was of one of my favorite singers, DAS. The rest were still as they were when I had to actually sleep in here.
When I was halfway in, I kicked something and sent it flying into her closet door. Going over and picking it up, I shivered when I realized what it was. Then I noticed several holes in her closet door, from the inside going out. Being the curious 'kitten' (that was how I got that ridiculous nickname) I opened it up, and my jaw dropped. Well, all my questions were just answered by what was hanging on D-M's dart board.
This girl was freaky!
I was not talking about the sugary sweetness type freaky (come on, after you live with it for so long, it's almost routine) but this was a whole new level of freak on the Kookie scale!\
I didn't want to pull a dumb prank like Drake did and destroy property, just do something to annoy the powder-puff princess, but then I looked at the dartboard again.
Perhaps I shouldn't annoy her too much.
Paige's room got a huge X through it as I left it.
It was an old trick my friends back in Washington told me about. The fridge had been raided, and many things used in this room. I finished most of the people's room on this side. Next up was Miss Rogue's and the best thing I could think to do wasn't the worst that I could do, just something in general. So I hunted down several things and decided to mess up something.
More annoying than anything else, like mixing up her hundred or so movies by switching their covers and setting her TV and radio on 'high' so that when she turned them on again-well, her cursing would probably be drowned out by the racket-I hoped. Then her alarm, I switched it to just after three in the morning, like I did with everyone else's. Oh yeah, not to mention dumping and mixing all their clothes in one huge pile in the middle of the bathroom floor.
I was so going to hang for this!
I told you it was petty, but hey, it was something. Also the CDs, I mixed and matched all those (more mixing than matching). From her computer I took one of the wires and tucked away in the bottom of her closet. I was being a brat, but considering what I did to the other females' rooms, this was nothing.
After I was done there, I smiled as I left that half of the house and went back to the oh so familiar 'guy' wing. I looked around the place and wondered where to start off.
Bobby-Jerk.
I still owed him big time for messing around with all my stuff. I would include Chris in this, but he was also on my 'hit' list before I was going to retire and then find a place to hide. Going into the beloved (puke) Mr. Drake's room, I scouted out his grade book. I might be flunking now, but just wait until I was finished rearranging the grades and boosting some, while dropping others significantly.
You could almost hear the Grinch theme song going on behind me as I completed the normal petty activities, and added some new ones to this guy's room.
This was too much fun!
The phone wouldn't stop ringing. It was around three in the afternoon and I was loading my plat with whatever sweets I had unearthed in other people's rooms, and my brain was about to be swamped with meaningless television programs.
But back to the phone, it hadn't stopped ringing for the past twenty minutes.
The machine picked up again, and, again, the person hung up. I rolled my eyes. I would say it was rude, but then again, I didn't like talking to machines either and tended to do the same thing. By the time I was ready (and balanced) to make my way to the rec. room, the phone started up again.
Huffing in annoyance, I put my stuff down and picked up the receiver.
"This is the answering machine, talk or we will trace your call and break your fingers for dialing our number in the first place." I used a deeper, sterner voice (Scott anyone?).
"Excuse me?" Came a surprised female voice I didn't recognize, "Bobby, if this is your idea of a joke…"
I wanted to laugh, and decided to play like I was him, just because I was in the mood to be vicious, "Sorry, but I got my testosterone pills mixed up with Mi-Rogue's estrogen pills and my voice just hasn't been then same since yesterday."
Don't ask me where it came from, but my face felt like it was about to crack in two because of the devious smirk I wore.
"I—see." The female then cleared her voice and began to talk, "This is Valerie, and I was wondering if I could talk to-"
"Valerie who?"
"Cooper. Valerie Cooper, Bobby. And I don't feel like playing your little games right now, so just listen."
Oh, did she say the wrong thing in the wrong tone, "I'm sorry for you then, you might want to call back when someone is here who actually cares." And then I hung up. But the name 'Valerie Cooper' sounded so familiar. I couldn't pinpoint it, and shrugged opting to forget about it instead.
I picked up my stuff and was about to go to watch my shows when that dumb phone rang again. Sheesh, this woman must be used to abuse.
Slamming my stuff down, I yanked up the phone and quite clearly in a nasally voice said, "Summers Sex Shop, where the batteries are included. How may I direct your call? Blow up dolls or whips?"
There wasn't anything for a few seconds and then I about melted on the floor in a puddle of humiliation.
"Kerry, this is Scott."
"Oh crap," I slammed my hand against my head, "Uh, we are all out of redheads?" I was such an idiot. "I thought you were someone else."
"A customer?" He might have made a joke, but it sure wasn't said in a joking manner! "I was calling to see if everything was all right at the mansion since you weren't answering in the command center."
He was worried about me? Maybe he was worried about Grandma being alone with me.
"Uh, everything is still standing?"
"Is your Grandmother there?"
Busted.
"No, actually she left early this morning." Wait, if they were 'on the field' then how the heck was he calling me?
"She did? So you are there—alone?"
"No," I began to feel like a ten-year-old left unmonitored at Grandpa's house. "I have Stitch."
"You are alone." Technically, but never figuratively. I wonder if that would have worked? I think I heard it mentioned Xavier had two personalities at one time…"Kookie, I don't think you should be alone in the house."
Why? Was there some freaky invisible man I didn't know about locked away in the basement or something?
"Why not? It's not like anything has happened—uh, by anyone else." Gee, why didn't I just tell them I'd been up to no good.
"I see." In the background I heard Chris shout that the 'bug eating big butted bird brain' better leave his things alone. I growled on the telephone, "Is everything okay?"
"Fine! Everything is fine! Couldn't be better, uh, thanks for calling?" I thought about it for a moment, "Why did you call?"
It was his turn for that weird silence, "Because Jean was worried."
Liar! Liar! Liar!
"And she wanted me to call to see if I should contact someone for you and your Grandmother."
"Don't worry about me, I'm keeping myself entertained." He couldn't see it, but I smirked.
"That's what we're afraid of."
My heart stopped as I hit the pause button on the television in the middle of an Everyone Loves Raymond episode. After a thought, my brain politely rammed my scarred heart with logic. If the voice I just heard came from the front room then the person would have used the front door and since all the little spandex soldiers marched onto their big bad plane— then they would have to have parked the big bad plane on the lawn, and that would attract some attention.
In other words, think stupid, raced across my mind. Cautiously I turned the TV off and sneaked around the room to peek out the doorway.
"Mr. Warren?" I only saw huge wings with big white feathers, so my Sherlockian reasoning led me to deduce it was Mr. Warren.
"Kookie, there you are." He smiled and walked up to me. "I came to pick you up."
Many men have tried no one had been strong enough yet.
"Pick me up?"
"Yes, Scott told me you were by yourself and wanted me to take you to New York with me."
"To babysit me in other words?"
He grinned, "I guess you could say that, but I'm not getting paid to do it." If he was, wouldn't that make him an escort?
"But I was having fun here!" I whined, if he was meant to be my babysitter, then I was going to act like a baby.
"Don't worry; I'm not going to make you sit around my office answering phones or anything." I felt a blush creep up my cheeks, apparently Scott told him what I had said when he answered.
"I'll go get my stuff."
I got to tell you, I thought it was pretty cool having a huge and expensive play house (originally known as the mansion) but being driven around in a fancy limo with a very rich guy (and let's not forget that he did have some very handsome looks!) took the cake (or the Kookie in this case-but that was just a bad pun!).
"Where are we going?" I finally asked after I had pressed every button and flipped all the switches.
Mr. Warren had an amused look, "My penthouse, and from there a Christmas party."
Party?
"Okay, so how are you going to watch me if you're at a party?"
His gold eyebrows flattened out and then he said I was going to go with him, not as a date but as someone to keep all the attention off of himself.
"Does that mean I have to wear an image inducer?" Duh.
"Yes, and you'll have to reprogram it to show an older version of yourself. They don't like kids at these parties." Kid? I was not a kid (of course as I thought this I slurped up the last of my Root beer float)
"So you want me to look like my Grandmother?" I asked, a wicked look painting across my features.
There were no words fit enough to describe Mr. Warren's reaction, "That's not even funny, Kookie, don't joke like that."
I smirked, "Sorry must be the people I'm hanging around."
This got any amusement washed away from his face, and I wasn't even talking about him!
Forget him give me Mr. Warren Worthington the third!
I knew he was a filthy stinking rich, but I didn't realize how filthy stinking rich until I got to this gigantic skyscraper in the middle of New York City that (like a true country bumpkin) I craned my neck all the way back to try to take it all in. For added effect (and embarrassment) remarked, "Wow. That's one big building."
The driver gave me a dumb-tourist/kid look, and brought the bags to the guy at the door (I held on to Stitch, he's such a cute little guy that anyone would want him! And I didn't want to take a chance of him being Stitch-napped again). "So where do you live?"
"On the top." He pointed to where I could barely make out the skinny railing many, many, many feet above my little Washington state native head. Then he lead me (hauled the little kid being all star struck by a big building -all I needed to say was ha-yuck) into the building.
"Who else lives here?"
"No one, just me. The penthouse is where I live, and the rest of the building is dedicated office space of Worthington Industries."
"You own this whole dang thing?"
"Yes, last time I checked the bill of sale, I own this 'whole dang thing'. You really didn't think I could run a multi-billion worldwide company from my bedroom did you?"
Anything's possible. Heck, I was expecting a huge Christmas gift from this guy! No wonder he had so many big-chested, big-haired, bubble-brains after him! "Wow."
"What is with you people?" I asked as I slapped another hand away from where I stood on a tiny pedestal with four or five women running around, holding up a dress to me and then taking off again. Mr. Warren (who at this 'party' I was instructed to either call him 'boss', 'Warren,' or 'Mr. Worthington'-I asked him if 'sugar daddy' was appropriate, he spit up his coffee and said I had been hanging around the wrong people) insisted that I have a decent dress for this party. I pointed out that I could wear jeans and t-shirt and used the image inducer and no one would be the wiser, he grunted and said 'no way' in the most sophisticated way I have ever heard.
"She definitely needs something to bring out those green eyes," the oldest lady said, well, I think she was a lady. She looked more like a prune with clothes on than anything else. I mean, come on, her eyebrows weren't really eyebrows, they were tattoos! "Such a beautiful vibrant green."
"I think we have the perfect thing, but it is a bit pricey," the assistant disclosed half-heartedly. Prune lady with tattoo eyebrows stiffened and sucked in a sharp breath.
"Do you know who is here with her to purchase the clothing?" The girl looked confused, "Mr. Worthington, one of our best customers. Go get the dress and make sure bring any and all accessories, from shoes to make-up!"
The assistants scattered and brought back everything as instructed. Mrs. Prune shooed them away from the room of mirrors, where I stood cross armed and feeling highly exposed. I did mention that I was in nothing but my bra and panties again, right?
"It's okay now, Miss Summers, please show me yourself."
What the heck!? "Uh, uh, I-I don't-think-"
"Oh come now, girl. I know about your being a mutant and your wings, so please remove whatever type of device you are using to conceal them so I can properly match the colors." Mrs. Prune seemed very serious about this, so I nervously reached to my neck were the image inducer was hanging and clicked it off. "Oh my."
Yeah, well, that's not the normal reaction, normal reaction was 'oh, she's a mutant let's shoot her down like a fat duck'.
"Uh, could we hurry this up?" I pleaded.
"Oh yes, of course, it's just so rare that I see Warren's wings, so that any time I see mutant beauty it astonishes me." She smiled, I mean to wear her dentures were showing type smile. "And you need not be so afraid Miss Summers; I too, am in the closet, as it were, about my powers."
That was unexpected! "You're a mutant?"
"Naturally." She picked up the dress and instructed me to put it on. "My powers are more subtle than yours." No kidding. One look at me and everyone knew what I was, one look at this lady and they just got scared. "My powers relate to my job," she continued once I was dressed and I had to say I looked pretty good, too bad he was out of town saving the world or something. "They have to deal with pigments and colors."
"Oh?"
And just like magic, she showed me, looking at the dress and at my eyes she nodded and then touched the dress and it started to become darker.
"I have the ability to change the way colors absorb light, therefore, I affect the color over all. I always have perfect matches for everyone." She preened and stepped away. "I think that will do very well."
And it was actually modest!
Mr. Warren was nice about the whole thing and bought me all various stuff, and I was (jokingly) suggested he should pay for all my Christmas' presents for getting to enjoy my company when I looked like a 'girl girl' and he agreed!
Of course he said that'd be his gift to me, but hey, I'd take what I could from the boy billionaire! So here we were at the stuffy business party, and I was looking like a twenty-something girl with a million dollars invested in my chest (got to love image inducers) when I started to get showed around. While Mr. Warren talked to some people, some nastier ones had looked me up and down and went in for the kill. My right wing wasn't hurt, and with that I nicely punched them away.
Don't worry, I wasn't sending anyone through walls, just into the next person. It was fun for a while.
"Mr. Worthington, it's always a pleasure," most of them called him Warren or something else, and I was wondering how long before I went all Looney Tunes. They were so fake and plastic (literally, I didn't think there was an original nose in the building except my own).
An hour or so into the snorefest, I was escorted over to a very nice looking man. He was late twenties and the type of guy who had a rugged sophistication aura and look about him-in other words a drop dead gorgeous guy with lots of money. The closer I got the better and younger he looked. Mr. Warren seemed to stiffen as he approached this guy with his long white-blonde hair pulled back, and gray eyes. Man, he was a beautiful creation!
"Miss Summers, I would like you to meet the president of Dae-Saint Inc, Mr. Donovan St. Loy."
My good sense took a long flight on a short bus (apparently so did my brain) as this St. Loy angel took my hand and instead of shaking it or caressing it like some of the older trolls did, brought it to his lips and ghosted a kiss against my knuckles.
Oh heck, how was I ever going to be able to put one plus one together again?
He had some serious competition, even though he might not know it. Of course, my luck was that this guy would be gay or have a high-pitched voice or a girlish laugh or something.
"Donovan, this is my friend's daughter Miss Summers." Mr. smiled, not a full toothy grin, but one of those secretive and extremely sexy smiles that had this girl willing to do anything he asked. Right then, Mr. Warren, ya know, the other guy that was there (even if the world just went away as this Donovan still held onto my hand) was called away to talk to someone else, but I really didn't care.
"I would like to wish you a happy birthday, although I it may be premature."
Huh? Birthday? What? I was alive? I thought I died and gone to heaven. This guy had a deep, rich timbre (not Mr. Bishop deep, but deep enough to make my estrogen peak). I think Stacey would be disgusted with me at this point.
"Oh, uh, thank you." I was finally able to say as something in me said to answer him instead of just drooling and blurting out 'you're so pretty!'. "H-how did you know?"
"It will be your seventeenth, correct?" Oh, this guy was good but how did he see through the image inducer?
"Yes," I replied and was still baffled about it all when he smiled, let go of my hand, bowed, and walked away. Two seconds later a voice I never wished to hear again totally smashed my happy little world of St. Loy worship.
"Well, if it isn't the new Summers." I felt like anti-freeze had just entered my veins. I turned, and yup, it was the White Witch of the X-men. I didn't remember her name, but I remembered her. "Warren dragged you along instead one of his little play toys?" She gave me that icy smirk and suddenly I remembered her name. Frost. How perfect. "Pity, they are more fun to talk to."
I gritted my teeth; I wasn't going to say anything. I was 'representing' Mr. Warren and my 'parents', while all she was representing was display of some doctor's handiwork. She was basically a Barbie gone bad.
"I can see your thoughts, girl, and I should let you know that Donovan has no interests in peons." As the sun wasn't for plastic made women like you who had the high possibility of melting. "Jean hasn't been able to teach you much about building your mental shields has she? Perhaps what you need is a crash course."
I was feeling particularly bratty and as I went to go say something mouthy, and would no doubt have me brain washed by this lovely blood sucking nightmare dressed as a blonde, another voice interrupted, "Play nice, Emma." It was Mr. Warren 'swooping' (ha ha, I made an angel joke) down to save me (really he just walked over, but let's be a bit dramatic).
"Warren, I was just having a delightful little chat with your protégé." She smiled smugly at me, and then in my flippin' head said,
/You better beware that your little boyfriend doesn't find out about your rather embarrassing attraction to St. Loy./
And then she walked away. Argh! Didn't that woman have somewhere she could go and rot?
Or freeze? At this point she was making Bobby-Jerk look like the Humidman instead of Iceman.
Besides that little upset, the rest of the party went smoothly and I even got to try some champagne (okay almost got to try some but Mr. Warren said 'I don't think so' and took it away). Around two in the morning, we climbed back in the limo, and headed on the way back to his condo. I was grumbling about evil White Witches while Mr. Warren was rolling his eyes and laughing at some of my antics.
"Yes, it's a bit hard for us to believe that Bobby found her attractive, even had loved her at one point, probably still does. Sure she has a body to kill for," (more like lust after) so does the blow up doll that I said was on special on the phone. "She has an evil streak."
"I think it would be better to say that she might, hypothetically speaking in some small way, have a streak of niceness in her evil little personality."
"She's not a lady you want as an enemy, so don't be too extreme when she's around."
Extreme? Me? When had I ever been 'extreme'? I was a perfect little angel with black wings (black skin, black hair, etc.) with super strength who would be able to punch that perfect little Ice Queen right back under the plastic surgeon's knife.
Darn reconstructive surgery!
I would love to have seen her walking around with a crooked nose.
