Play With Me

the
worn-out beige cushions of the backseat. The heat of early August had warmed
the cabin like a sauna. In the stuffy air, tickles of sweat rolled down the
valley between my breasts.
    At a traffic
light, my gaze drifted past a bus and skated over a black woman inside. She
carried a baby, trying to cool the kid down with puffs of her breath. A sigh
escaped me. She’d never let her child down and send her off to an orphanage to
fend for herself. Her child would grow up in a cozy home, with a loving mother,
far away from the kind of mess I was stuck in. Always falling into a pile of
crap. I cleared my throat, trying hard to stop it from constricting.
    Riley pulled up
in front of a narrow, familiar brick building. Seconds later, he opened the car
door for me. I decided my butt had grown roots as I scowled at his blotchy
face. It seemed the heat troubled him even more than me.
    “What? Does the Skillful Dodger need an invitation to
get out of the car?”
    “What? Is Mr. Donut actually referring to Dickens ?” I pulled a wry face then scooted
over to clumsily climb out. “You better read the book again, doofus.”
    I bumped my head
against the door frame. Pain exploded in my skull, followed by a shower of stars
dancing behind my eyelids.
    Just another
bright spot in my crappy day. 
    “That serves you
right,” Riley snorted between hiccups of giggles.
    “Lord, let him
choke on his laughter,” I mumbled, my gaze raised skyward. With my wrists
crossed in the small of my back, I tugged up my hand-me-down jeans that always
sat loosely on my hips.
    The taller
officer marched into the building, holding the door open like a gentleman. If
only I had my hands free to open the door on my own and then slam it in his
goddamn face.
    Riley fought to
keep up with my quick stride, but I beat him to the stairs.
    “Don’t worry, I
can find the way myself.” I climbed the steps to the first floor where the main
office was located. Unfortunately, I had to wait for one of the oafs to open the
door.
    As Riley and his
partner arrived on the first floor, my exaggerated sigh drew their attention.
One flight of stairs had Riley gasping like a puppy.
    The taller cop
planted a hand on my shoulder. “No need to hurry, lass. You’ll face justice
soon enough.”
    I shrugged his
hand off. “I’ve got news for you, Riley and Riley’s partner. I’m only
seventeen. That means I’m not old enough to face legal punishment for a minor
crime—like borrowing a sweater.” I gave them a wide grin, which didn’t come as
easily as I had hoped with Miss Mulligan’s warning ringing in my ears.
    “Borrow?” Riley
puffed. There was amusement in his tone, but his pissed face confirmed I would
be walking out of here. I turned my face away and exhaled, relieved.
    Riley twisted
the doorknob then walked into the office first. Shoulders squared and back
straight, I followed him into the room with the high, arched ceiling. The sun
shining through the narrow but tall windows blinded my eyes for a second, while
the stench of sweat and police dogs bit my nose.
    A handful of
cops lingered behind beige desks, sipping from huge coffee mugs and chatting to
each other. No one glanced at us, so I avoided the German shepherd sprawled out
on the floor and strode down the aisle between two straight lines of desks
directly to the reception.
    Hip against the
counter, I gazed down at the black-haired guy with designer stubble. His bright
eyes stood out against the dark blue of his uniform.
    “Hi, Quinn. How
you doing? Sorry, I’d shake your hand, but I’m afraid that right now—” I
twisted and raised one shoulder, displaying my shackled wrists. “—I’m slightly
indisposed.”
    Quinn rubbed his
hands over his suntanned face. The moan came through muffled and somewhat
choked. “Shit, Jona, please tell me you were part of a sick party gag and now
you’re here to get trick cuffs removed.” He peeked through the slits between
his fingers.
    A sheepish smile
crept to my face. “You might want to take a second guess.”
    He lowered his
hands and folded them on the desk. “Why can’t you keep your butt out of
trouble? Kids your age are supposed to hang out in parks, not at police
stations.”
    Quinn was a nice
guy. Big eyes, styled hair and muscular body, I guessed he was no more than ten
years older than me. Maximum. Once, I asked him for his real age, but he just
told me he was “old enough to know better.”
    Unlike my
relationship with Debby, I did