Page 47 of Play with Me (Diamond in the Rough 1)

“You mean we can’t just lie here and debate on ways to erase my memory?”

She giggled. “I mean, it sounds fun in theory. But I wouldn't appreciate it if you forgot all about me.”

“Not my entire life. Just the past forty-eight hours.”

“How does getting lunch out somewhere sound? We can take the mind-erasing from there.”

And as my stomach growled out, betraying my actual hunger, a smile crossed my face.

“Soup and sandwiches?” I asked.

Allison sat up. “Soup and sandwiches it is.”

18

Clinton

I heard my father storm through the door Sunday evening, much later than I figured he’d come back from that damn casino. He was muttering to himself, something about bananas and shoving t

hem down someone’s throat. I grinned to myself as I heard the trash can lid bang against the wall.

Good. He found it.

I heard Cecilia’s soft voice cooing at him. Treating him like some damn child as she tried soothing away his worries and his anger. It was pathetic, really. Listening to a grown-ass woman coddle a grown-ass man like that. I didn’t want to be in the house. Not with her, not with him, and not with the tension they brought with them.

If I was lucky, they’d be on another airplane in the morning. Heading off on yet another trip.

And out of my damn hair.

I picked up my cell phone and shoved it into my pocket. It was late, but I didn't care. I grabbed the keys to my bike and snuck down the stairs, bypassing the living room altogether. Stepmommy dearest and my bullshit father were curled up, watching a movie. And still, I heard him grumbling to himself. He was the most miserable asshole on the face of this planet, and I couldn't wait until I graduated.

Because I had all sorts of plans on how to get out from underneath him.

I opened the side garage door without a sound and rummaged around for the second bike helmet I knew I had stashed away somewhere. And just as I tucked it under my arm, I heard my father’s voice.

“Clint? You out there? You know damn good and well what your curfew is on the weekends.”

I threw my leg over my bike and cranked up the engine. I slipped my helmet over my head, then pinned the other one between myself and the bike. I zoomed out of the garage, leaving my house in the shadows as I tore out of the neighborhood. I didn’t give a shit about my father or his rules. If he wanted to be a decent parent, he could stay home, stay away from the casino, and stop beating up on me whenever he didn’t like something I was doing.

I cruised down the road until I came to the opening of the neighborhood. And instead of taking a right to head on into town, I took a left. I found myself at the mouth of Rae’s neighborhood, and I slowed down to see if I could find her house. I only had a general idea of which one it was. It wasn’t hard to spot once I came upon it.

I recognized that rusted-out bright green bike of hers she used to ride back in middle school.

I looked through the living room window and saw her mother watching television. She was leaned up against someone. Some dude that was snoring away with his head lobbed back. I shook my head as I walked the bike into the driveway. My eyes scanned the front of the house, coming upon one lone light that was on upstairs.

Hopefully that’s Rae’s bedroom.

I put the kickstand down, though I didn’t turn off the engine. I set the extra helmet on the bike, then started picking up gravel rocks from her driveway. I tossed them at the window, missing the first couple of times. But, the third rock landed directly against the glass. Making a much louder sound than I had anticipated.

But it did draw Rae to the window.

“What the—Clint?”

I waved. “Come on down. I have a helmet for you.”

She shook her head. “I can’t. I’m about to go to bed.”

I shrugged. “So?”