Page 1 of Play Me
CHAPTER
ONE
Astrid
“Can you still track me?”
“That doesn’t make me sound creepy at all,” I say, watching dollar bills flow from my bank account into my gas tank. My compact car may not be flashy, but what it lacks in style, it makes up for in gas mileage.Thank God.“But, yes, I can see where you are unless you removed yourself from our friend circle in the app. Why?”
Gianna sighs. “Because I’m about to meet a guy in front of a defunct carpet store, and all I can think about is a scene in a horror movie where the killer asks the girl to help him load a rug. You can guess how that ends.”
“I’d rather not.” I release the trigger, let the residual drips of gas fall into my tank—gotta get every penny’s worth in this economy—and return the dispenser to the pump.
The late morning is unseasonably warm for spring. Birds perch along the power lines, forming neat little rows overhead. The sky is cloudless, allowing the sun’s bright rays to heat my face as I duck back into my car.
“Okay,” I say, giving my friend all my attention once I’m settled in my seat. “Do you know this guy you’re meeting?”
“Nope. Met him on Social last night.”
“And why are you meeting him?”
She groans. “To buy a urinal.”
“As one does.”
“Don’t be a smart-ass, Astrid.”
I laugh. “I just wish this surprised me a little more. That’s all.”
I start the engine and wait for my phone to reconnect to Bluetooth.
Gianna and I have been friends since we were kids. A classmate put gum in her hair in first grade, so I dumped my juice on his crotch and made it look like he peed his pants. Turns out that juice on your pants is a much bigger travesty than gum in your hair in elementary school.
It also creates the best friendships, even if her dreamy Pisces tendencies occasionally drive my goal-oriented brain bananas.
“Finding a urinal has been on my bucket list for a long time,” she says. “You’d be surprised how hard they are to find. And they’re not cheap.”
“At least tell me it’s a new one.” My response is met with silence. I rest my head against the seat and take a long breath. “Let me get this straight. You’re meeting a stranger in an abandoned parking lot to buy a used urinal you found on the black market?”
“Don’t say it like that.”
“Why? Because it sounds utterly ridiculous?” I sigh, fastening my seat belt. “I love your love for art, but I really need you to implement more stranger-danger protocols—like not meeting strange men in strange places for strange items.” I glance at the clock. “If you can wait an hour, I can go with you.I just have to take care of a few returns for my boss’s wife, and then I can get away for a little while.”
“Can’t. I’m meeting him in fifteen minutes.”
Oh, for the love of Pete.
I stare out my windshield and wonder if this is what parenting feels like. You watch someone you love toddle into the world, hoping they don’t kill themselves. Over a urinal.
It’s amazing humans still exist, especially ones like Gianna Bardot. That she’s survived for the last twenty-seven years amazes me.
I grab my phone and find the app our friend group uses to share our locations.
“You’re logged in,” I say, watching her designated car emoji travel south out of the city. “I’m watching you now.”
“Good. Okay. If you don’t hear from me in twenty minutes, I’ve probably been stuffed in the back of a van. Literally, not figuratively, unfortunately.”
I snort, glancing in the rearview mirror as a large black truck pulls in behind me. The engine rumbles, creating a low vibration that I feel in my bones. I narrow my eyes to see who’s sitting in the driver’s seat, but the window tint’s too dark.
