Prank Call Jacob Sartorius Novels & Stories

My best friend, Jolyn Jones, called me while I was at work. "Help! S-Someone's about to v-violate me! Petra, please help me!" Panic shot through me. I immediately dropped a crucial project and called the police. Then, with an officer close beside me, I raced to the address Jolyn had sent, nearly tripping over my own feet along the way. Suddenly, two loud pops erupted behind us, and confetti rained down. Jolyn jumped out from around the corner with my boyfriend, Will Curry. "Surprise! That's the hundredth time we've managed to prank you, P!" I stared at them in disbelief. "What the hell? You thought sexual violence was appropriate material for a prank?!" The officer looked equally furio

Austin says sitting back on the chair, but I knew what he was saying was too true when it comes to Markus. “Well now because you don’t know how to stand up for yourself, Payton has to be put right back in the firing line!” Roman says which was the thing that told me to ring Jacob, at least I know he’ll set up a plan. “I need to make a call” is all I say standing up from the sofa and walking into the bedroom to ring Jacob, I can’t believe this is happening again.

Then Marcus swept everything off his desk. Files. Glass. Phone. All of it hit the floor. His hands were shaking. Not from anger. From realization. She had known. From the very beginning she had known. Sarah. The conversation. The five hundred million. All of it. A trap. And he had walked straight into it smiling. He picked up his phone from the floor. Called Sarah. Automated voice. "This number is no longer available" He called the first board member. It rang three times. "Marcus, what is going on, my accountant is saying the account doesn't—"

Every day, she wore heavy makeup at home, and as soon as night fell, she would go out clubbing with her good-for-nothing friends. When Jacob saw me arrive, he excitedly turned on the TV, which was broadcasting the moment of the lottery draw. Jacob held his lottery ticket and checked the numbers one by one, terrified of missing a single thing. When he realized the numbers didn't match, he froze in place. "How is this possible? How? I was sure it was today!" he mumbled. His face went white, and his lips trembled. After he returned to his senses, he yelled at Quinn, "This isn't right! This isn't the jackpot number! Quinn, what's going on?"

SIGH I groaned, frustrated when my name was called out. “Rita…” A fake name, of course. “Here’s your ultrasound pictures, and the report. You could visit the doctor next month, on the same date.” The nurse gave me a polite smile and I returned her the same. The purpose for which I had chosen that poor bartender, Jake Slogan, finally succeeded. *** RING … RING I tried to reach out to that anonymous man when he called me himself, surprising me. “What??” He barked unhappily.

Jacob looked serious. “I believe you guys,” said Arda. “Don’t sweat it.” “Maybe it was one of the guests,” Karina suggested. “Probably.” Arda agreed. “Whoever it is would probably be laughing their head off as they imagine what your reaction would be,” Jacob told her. “Just ignore it.” Arda was getting convinced of his words when a troubling thought hit her. “But who would play a prank with an expensive item?” she asked and there was a slight pause as they all contemplated the question. Then Jacob shrugged.

He was very surprised and he said, “My brother is calling.” After he was done speaking, Jacob quickly answered the phone call. Christopher spoke coldly on the other end of the line, “Did you mean it when you said that you’ll pay us 1.2 million dollars for the sofa set?”

I saw it—Gideon Salton taking cash from his buddies, one after another. That was when it clicked: I was just the punchline in some bet. The ones who lost laughed first, then rolled their eyes like I was the idiot. "Madison Montclaire, do you even get how much I lost 'cause of you? Use your brain for once." "We've told you a million times—Gideon's way outta your league. You really thought he'd marry you?"

I don’t usually answer calls from unknown numbers, but since the first three digits are a Denver area code, I pick it up with a hesitant, “Hello?” “Is this Juliet Anderson?” a male voice asks on the other end of the line. Wherever he is, it’s loud. I can hear the roar of music and voices, clattering glass, and a cacophony of other sounds I can’t quite place. “This is Juliet,” I reply tentatively, not recognizing the voice of the caller. He breathes what sounds almost like a sigh of relief. “Juliet, this is Jason Markum, the manager down at Jokers. We met this afternoon.”

He said, this time the grief in his tone could be felt. “But no way, Clara’s Mr. Smith’s daughter—the renowned doctor of Vereluxe City. How’s it possible that she’s unable to perform like a real woman?” a random male voice came from the crowd. “Yes, that’s right. They should kick that guy out,” another muttered, backing the first voice up. Now everyone was looking right at Jacob with a sneering look. “I’m from the Xanders family. And my name is Jacob. If there’s any one of you who dares to lay your hands on me, then go on.”