Page 122 of The Score

The cop holds up a hand to silence me. “We’re speaking to Miss Hayes, sir.”

Oh yes. Miss Hayes. The crazy maniac who happens to be my girlfriend. The kung-fu masterwho knocked me out with a Wayne Gretzky paperweight.

But hey, at least the lights are on. This way, everyone and their fucking mothers can witness my disgrace.

“You’re speaking to the wrong person,” I mutter through clenched teeth. “I’m the one who was attacked.”

One of the female deputies narrows her eyes at me. “From what we can see, sir, the young ladies are the victims here.” She waves her hand at the floor. “We walked in to find you lying in a pool of blood?—”

“It was soup! Tomato soup!”

“—and shouting obscenities at Miss Hayes and Miss Di Laurentis.”

“Because theyknocked me out.”

“Clearly they felt you were a threat if they took measures to incapacitate you,” another officer says coolly. He purses his lips, and the sexual predator mustache he’s rocking bushes up.

Oh my fucking God. I’m going to strangle them. The moment these cops leave, I’m going to fuckingstranglethem.

“Sir, we’re conducting an interview,” the lead officer snaps. “Please refrain from speaking unless addressed.”

Tucker, who’s leaning against the wall a few feet away, looks like he’s about to pee his pants laughing. His laughter is of the silent variety, vibrating in his broad shoulders and staining his cheeks bright red.

At least Allie has the decency to look sheepish. Summer just looks bored.

“I overreacted,” Allie confesses.

“Talk us through what happened,” the lady cop urges gently.

I grind my molars as Allie takes a breath. Meanwhile, the paramedic at my side is groping the back of my head like he’s trying to get me off.

“I just finished heating up a bowl of soup in the kitchen. Well, it wasn’t too hot, because I prefer my soup to be lukewarm, otherwise it burns the roof of my mouth and I hate it when that happens.” She sighs. “Sorry, irrelevant. Anyway, I was on my way to the living room. All the lights were off because we were watching a movie. I heard footsteps outside the front door and suddenly someone just walked in like they live here?—”

“Idolive here,” I growl.

Allie avoids my furious gaze. “I thought it was an intruder.”

“An intruder with a key to the house?” I say sarcastically.

The cops glare at me again. I close my mouth.

“I threw the bowl at his head and grabbed the first weapon I could find.” She points to the Gretzky paperweight we use to hold down the mail on the hall table so it doesn’t fly away whenever someone opens the front door. Now it’s on the hardwood floor next to a massive puddle of tomato soup. I’m surprised the cops didn’t put little evidence flags around it.

“It wasn’t Dean’s fault,” Allie insists. “Seriously, it’s all on me. I freaked out for no reason.” She finally looks over at me. “See? This is why I don’t like horror movies! You watchonescary movie when you’re a kid and suddenly everyone who comes to your door is a serial killer.”

“Are you kidding me right now? You’ll watch ahorror movie with mysisterbut not me?Wehave to watch thecancermovie?”

“Dicky,” Summer chides. “You’re being grumpy.”

I glare at my sister with enough force to make her wince. “Not one word out of you,” I snap. “And don’t think I didn’t feel you kick me right before I passed out. Who does that, Summer? Who kicks a man when he’s down?”

From the corner of my eye, I see Tucker sink to the floor. He buries his face in his hands, shaking with laughter.

The EMT blocks my line of sight by squatting in front of me. “I need to examine you for a concussion.”

Oh, for fuck’s sake.

He whips out a penlight and blinds me with it. Allie appears behind him, worry etched into her forehead. “Oh no. Does he have a concussion?” She kneels down and touches my arm. “Do we need to call your coach?”

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