Play With Me: Diamond In The Rough 1

by Hart, Rebel

  “You can have dinner with us. He’s picking up something nice from that Italian place up the road. I could give him a call really quickly. You want some lasagna?”

  I shook my head. “No, it’s fine. I’ve got plenty of food in my bag.”

  “We could throw a movie in after dinner?”

  “Mom, it’s fine. I promise. I have some homework I need to get done anyway if I have any chance of actually enjoying my weekend. You two have fun, okay?”

  I carried my things up the stairs, brushing quickly by my mother. Of course she’d take this time to invite D.J. over. What the hell else did I expect? I made my way into my bedroom and closed the door, ready to tear into my reading for English while I munched on some cookies. I flopped onto my bed and pulled out my books. I spread out my snacks as my mouth began salivating. I didn’t know what it was about the on-brand cookies that tasted so good. But they were always better than the off-brand ones my mother bought.

  However, I didn’t even get halfway through my reading before the fighting started.

  “I’m sorry, D.J. I didn't realize you wanted me to get wine.”

  He sighed. “Beer doesn’t go with Italian food. Are you that thick-headed?”

  Mom scoffed. “Well, I’m not a wine connoisseur. I wouldn't even know what kind to get with noodles and shit.”

  “No, you just know how to open your throat and chug it back so you can get drunk all the time. Right?”

  “You’re the one always dragging me off to parties when I’m completely content hanging around here with you. Just you. In your arms.”

  “Well, maybe if you weren’t such a boring little fuck, I wouldn’t always have to drag you to parties to get you to loosen up!”

  I rolled my eyes as I reached for my headphones. Then I remembered that D.J. had thrown my iPod full of music against a fucking wall. Great. I hunkered down in my bed, pulling the covers over my ears. I tried blocking out their fighting as I struggled to get through my reading. But finally I couldn't take it any longer. It had taken me two hours to do what should have only taken forty-five minutes, and I couldn't take their arguing any longer.

  Homework can wait.

  Mom cursed. “Fuck, D.J.! I just wanted to have a nice night with you. Why did you have to come in here and blow a gasket first thing?”

  D.J. snarled. “You cuss at me one more time and I’m going to show you exactly what dirty mouths like yours deserve.”

  “Oh, really. A threat to hit me? Like you don’t do that enough as it is. You keep slapping me around enough and I just might hit back!’

  “I’d like to see you try, you pathetic excuse for a woman.”

  I shook my head as I slipped out of bed. I stored my snacks underneath my bed for a rainy day, then changed my clothes. I put myself in the only sundress I had. I wanted to feel the cool summer air on my legs as I walked around. Because being anywhere right now was better than being here. D.J. was hot, then cold. Good, then bad. One week, he brought over flowers and money and gifts. And the next week, they were fighting downstairs until he decided to beat on my mom. I felt it coming, too. The beatdown. The cold to his hot.

  And if I was here for it, I wasn’t too sure I wouldn't try to kill him.

  “Just get out!” Mom yelled.

  Something crashed against the wall before D.J.’s voice sounded.

  “You’re lucky that didn’t land, you little bitch.”

  I heard my mother on the verge of tears as I slipped into my tennis shoes. I pried open my window, feeling the cool summer breeze against my legs as I slipped out onto the roof. I shimmied down the drain pipe, dropping to my feet. And after smoothing my dress down over my knees, I took off for the road.

  I couldn't stand it any longer.

  I had to get the hell away from this place.

  12

  Clinton

  I pulled into the driveway of my father’s mansion and sighed. Ten o’clock at night, with the party just getting started, and Marina’s parents had to ruin the whole fucking thing. I mean, come on. Women were practically fighting over me. I was teasing them to the high heavens, too. Acting like I’d kiss them, only to turn my head and start flirting with another. Chicks loved that shit. Loved working hard for a man they wanted. And I was working them in the hot tub like magic.

  Until Marina’s parents busted the damn thing up.

  Roy got to stay, though. I watched the way he sucked up to her parents. The way he started rattling on about trying to keep everyone safe and keep Marina away from the ‘ruckus.’ Oh, he sucked up well to them. Kissed their asses so much they actually let him stay. Roy! Of all fucking people! The boy who was fucking their daughter in the middle of the damn football field after school, and they let him stay. All because he knew how to put on a good show. All because he knew how to appear like the good boy before seducing his girlfriend.

  I wish I had a girl to have some quality time with.

  I shook the thought from my head. I got laid enough as it was. Quality time with a girl would only dampen shit like that. Once a guy started cuddling with a chick, that’s all she wanted to do. Cuddle. I’d have to start begging for blowjobs after that. And fuck that nonsense. Clint Clarke didn’t beg. If anything, women got down on their knees and begged to give me one. Just to say they had the pleasure of tasting my cock in their mouth.

  The thought made me grin as I swung my leg over my bike.

  Nope, there was no point in going steady with a girl. I hadn’t done it before now, and I had no intention of doing it later on in life. I didn’t see the point in it. Fucking around with one girl and her getting pissed off if I saw a nice ass walking by me. What was the point in that? Why spend my time begging to get fucked when I could go out any night and be guaranteed a fuck? Relationships were pointless. They destroyed people. Turned them into shadows of their former selves.

  I should know, too.

  I watched it happen with my mother.

  I opened the garage door to get inside and paused. Seeing my father’s cherry red convertible in the garage made me groan. What the fuck now? Why the hell was he home? What the fuck did he want to shove up my ass this time?

  I braced myself for whatever I was walking into as I approached the side garage door.

  “About damn time you showed up.”

  His voice hit my ears as I walked through the door. I stood in the sprawling kitchen, seeing him and Cecilia sitting at the table. There was food out. A plate set for me. Their plates were clear of any food they might have been eating and everything had grown cold. I snickered as I closed the door behind me. I shrugged as I slid my bike keys into my pocket.

  Then I licked my lips. “Didn’t know family dinners were our thing.”

  Dad narrowed his eyes. “Where have you been?”

  “Marina’s. Hanging out with Roy.”

  “Why the fuck did I get a call from the school saying you’d been in a fight this morning?”

  You’re dead, Mrs. Abernathy.

  I shook my head. “It was nothing. Some pathetic boy came at me and I defended myself.”

  Dad stood up. “Not what I heard.”

  “Well, I don’t care what you heard. That’s not what happened. He crossed a line, so I defended myself.”

  “Does that crossed line happen to be something he did to that bike of yours? Because I’ve got every intention of taking that away from you right now.”

  “You aren’t taking that from me again.”

  Dad charged from around the kitchen table and I puffed out my chest. Cecilia stood up, hollering for him to stop as he barreled directly into me. I winced as the pain in my neck grew. He shoved me against the wall, then pinned me with his hands wrapped up in my shirt. Apparently, all he heard was I’d been in a fight. He didn’t give a shit about the injuries I’d suffered during the event.

  Typical, for my father.

  Cecilia slammed her hand on the table. “You know that nurse said he’s only a few steps away from a concussion. Let him go.”<
br />
  Dad growled. “You’re so full of shit. Thinking you can walk around here like you own the place. Don't forget who bought you that bike.”

  I grinned. “You bought my first bike. I dipped into my trust fund with your permission to buy the second one.”

  “And don’t you dare forget who can take that away from you.”

  I snickered. “If you did, you’d be stuck with me. Which is something I know you don’t want.”

  “Not when you’re a piece of trash.”

  “Like father, like son.”

  I gnashed my teeth at him before I saw his hand come into view. And before I could even blink, I felt his knuckles crack against my cheekbone. My neck felt as if it were on fire, and I stumbled on my feet. I felt my father grip my shirt again and bring me back into the wall, only to come down against my face again.

  He hit me three solid times before Cecilia’s shrieks caused him to pause.

  “Howard! Stop it! You’re going to put him in the hospital!”

  I felt my father release my shirt and I slipped back down to my feet. But my father spun around and I heard him yelling at her. I knew he was probably spitting on her. I watched him stick his finger in her face, but she stood her ground, her small frame enveloped in the most expensive of fabrics. The two of them yelled back and forth at one another, but I had no idea what they were saying. I didn’t care, either. All I knew was I had to get out.

  I had to get away from this place.

  I reached for the garage door and ripped it open. I stumbled out, my vision slowly coming into focus. I saw the garage door closing and I made a break for it. I heard my father screaming my name as I ducked underneath the moving metal door. I dug my keys out and slung my leg over my bike. My father’s voice approached me from behind as I quickly struck up my engine.

  “Get back here, you son of a bitch. That bike is mine!”

  And just as I felt his hands on the back of my leather jacket, I tore off.

  Cecilia’s cries faded into the background. My father’s cursing fell away from my ears. The engine of my bike roared underneath me, vibrating as it carried me away from that fucking hellhole. The wind rushed through my hair. I sped out of the neighborhood, making my way for the high school. I didn’t know where the fuck I was going, but I sure as hell wasn’t going home.

  Ever, if I could swing it.

  I hope you rot in hell, Dad.

  I drove around town, feeling my wallet burning a hole against my ass cheek. I stopped off at a diner, where my stomach started growling at the smells of food. I walked inside and slid my helmet off, watching as people gave me strange looks. I made my way for the bathroom and scoffed when I saw myself, finally realizing why people kept giving me awkward glances.

  One of my father’s slaps had actually bruised my face.

  “Just great.”

  I sighed as I splashed some water on it. I ran some through my hair, watching as it glistened. The bruise was faint. But with the pale skin I’d inherited from the fucker himself, it was easy to see. I licked my lips and dried off my hands, then ran the paper towel over my face. I winced at the pain. My neck felt stiff. My cheeks were on fire. My ears were ringing from how loud my father had been yelling at me.

  Then my stomach kicked in again.

  “I need some food.”

  I tossed the paper towel away and slammed out of the bathroom. I took a seat in a corner booth, where the biggest waiter in the diner came up to me. I peeked over at the girls, watching as they cowered away. Fucking figured. I’d gone from the man every woman wanted to flock around, to the man people feared. And all because of some fucking bruise that wasn’t even my damn fault.

  Note to self, girlfriends and bruises from my father ruin my mojo.

  The waiter sighed. “Can I get you anything?”

  I leaned back. “Got anything on special?”

  “Ten percent off our chicken and waffles.”

  I wrinkled my nose. “Odd combination.”

  “Drench it all in syrup and it’s fantastic.”

  I sighed. “Sure. That’s fine, then. An order of that, a slice of German chocolate cake, and coffee.”

  “Cream and sugar?”

  “Yep.”

  He paused. “It might not be my place, but you need to talk to someone?”

  I snickered. “Nah, I’m good.”

  “You sure? That’s a pretty decent shiner.”

  “It only looks bad because I’m pale as fuck in the middle of California.”

  And even though the two of us shared a small moment of laughter, I still saw the nervousness in his eyes.

  “That’s all. Thanks,” I said.

  He left to place my order while everyone continued to stare at me. The freak in the leather jacket with the blackened cheek.

  13

  Raelynn

  I stared off into the darkness as I sat on the park bench. A ratty park, on the outskirts of the suburb where our small little area was stashed. The metal monkey bars were rusted through. Half of the swings were broken. The plastic of the slides had been cracked for years. Even the sandbox had been infested with bugs and fleas and all sorts of things, driving the families around here to abandon it. But I found solace in this place. In the crispy grass that had been fried by the sun. In the dead trees that surrounded this little patch of land. I sipped my green tea, reveling in its taste. Just another thing that separated me from the coffee-guzzling masses of those that surrounded me.

  I sighed as I dwelled in my moment of turmoil.

  I’d never been good at brushing things off. I had to pick through it. Tear it apart before piecing it back together. If I didn’t, I’d be stuck in a never-ending cycle of untapped emotion and swirling memories. I had to delve deep into it so I understood how to talk about it intelligently. Or, at the very least, build a fucking bridge and get over it.

  I needed to pick through the chaos of my home. The insanity of my mother. The decrepit state of her good-for-nothing boyfriend. I closed my eyes, listening as her shrieks filled my mind. Sipping on my tea as the sound of D.J.’s hand cracking against her jaw made me wince. Grimace.

  Wish I was anywhere other than here.

  “Deep breaths,” I whispered to myself.

  I continued sipping my tea until there was nothing left. I felt my mind slowing down. And, for once, I relaxed. A cool summer breeze kicked up, pulling the last of my hair out of its ponytail. I reached for the band before it fell to the ground. I ran my fingers through my hair, trying to work out the knots. I smoothed it over my shoulders, fluffing it in the wind. My dress kicked up around my shins, cooling off my thighs as I sat on the wooden park bench that still held the heat of the day within its bones.

  Then I heard it.

  The rumble of a motorcycle.

  I can’t be that unlucky. Please tell me I’m not that unlucky.

  I sighed as I opened my eyes and set my empty tea container on the ground. I drew in a deep breath, listening as the bike crept closer, rumbling up the road behind me and finally turning off.

  And moments later, I found myself staring at Clint Clarke’s torso.

  I sighed. “What do you want?”

  “Is anyone sitting here?”

  I snickered. “Nope. And neither are you.”

  I glared up at him, but all I saw was that snarky little grin of his. That stupid smirk I wanted to slap right off his fucking face. Only it didn’t reach his eyes like it normally did in school. There was a sadness to his features that I knew all too well. I watched him carefully as he moved off to the side. Despite what I’d told him, he sat down beside me, hissing as the heat of the bench came into contact with his ass. I stared at him, watching as his eyes connected with something off in the distance. And as his guard came down, so did his grin.

  It sank into a frown that had become the physical mantra of my life. A frown that constantly looked back at me in the mirror every morning.

  Clint cleared his throat. “Sorry I kicked your friend’s ass
.”

  I shook my head. “He got in a few punches, too.”

  “Doesn’t mean he didn’t get his ass beat.”

  “And you deserved every punch he landed.”

  He shrugged. “Maybe so.”

  “Really? You’re trying to be the good guy now?”

  “I’ll never be the good guy. Not my thing.”

  I turned my eyes out toward the playground. “Why are you such a dick all the time? Isn’t it enough that we can’t stand you?”

  I saw Clint turn his head as he stared at me. And even though I felt him burning a hole in the side of my face, I refused to look over at him. I refused to give him the satisfaction of gazing into my eyes. He stared at me for a long time, and I wondered what he was thinking. I found myself wanting to have a peek inside his mind, just to know why the hell he was staring for so long.

  Then his voice filled the space around us.

  “I don’t know. I guess ‘cause it’s easy. And it’s something I’m actually good at.”

  I rolled my eyes. “The pity card won’t get you far with me.”

  “Not looking for any.”

  “Good.”

  He shrugged. “It’s true. I’m good at making people hate me. I’m good at being a dick. That’s what I do.”

  I arched an eyebrow. “Wow. Deep motivations, bro.”

  “Hey, you’re the one that asked a dumb question.”

  “Just didn’t expect the answer to be dumber.”

  “Why do you always do that?”

  I snickered. “Do what?”

  “Fire back with such animosity?”

  I whipped my eyes over to him. “You’re asking me—the boy who’s bullied me on and off for years—why I address you with a burning hatred? Are you fucking kidding me right now?”

  He shrugged. “Maybe if you were nicer, like your friend Allison, people wouldn't be so standoffish to you.”

  “Is that before or after you made overt sexual jokes about her to Michael?”

  “I mean, at least they weren’t directed at her.”