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“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?”
