This was not the way that Layla Long had envisioned spending her eighteenth birthday.
The juvenile detention center of Oasis, Arizona was stifling. Layla could feel long trails of sweat dribbling down her spine and pooling in the small of her back. It soaked through the elastic band of her high-riding thong, sticking it to her flesh as she waited for the correctional officer to return. He’d gone to check on the air conditioning nearly ten minutes ago, and what little patience Layla had was running thin.
This was all her parents’ idea, and it was probably the stupidest one they’d had yet. Just because they’d caught her smoking a little weed and found the fake ID she used to go drinking at the clubs she was too young for didn’t mean that the cops ever would. And besides, she was eighteen today. There wasn’t anything they could do to stop her now.
She fanned herself with her hand and pushed up her sunglasses as they slid down her sweat-slickened face. On top of everything else, she had a wicked hangover. This was quickly turning out to be the worst birthday ever.
She gathered up the length of her hair and lifted it away from her neck, fished a hair tie out of the pocket of her too-tight, hip-hugger jeans, and wrapped it around her golden locks until only the tiniest strands were left against her skin. Layla hated Arizona summers almost as much as she hated Oasis itself. She couldn’t wait to get out of there.
Her thoughts turned to LA. It would be such a dream to live there. She bet Katy Perry didn’t have these problems.
The door at the end of the hall opened and Layla looked over, blowing a sweltering breath from between her pink, pouty lips. Officer Maddock, her painfully obese tour guide, was waddling down the hall toward her, his uniform stained with oceans of malodorous sweat. She wrinkled her nose as she watched him daub a handkerchief against his forehead, collecting the beads threatening to spill into his muddy eyes.
“The system’s shot,” he announced once he’d come close enough for her to smell him. “There’s nothin’ they can do ‘til the techs get here.” He blew out a gust of air that smelled almost as bad as his body did and added: “Let this be another reason that you don’t ever wanna come here. Can you imagine bein’ stuck in your cell in this kinda heat?”
Layla rolled her eyes and turned her face away from the corpulent officer. “I wouldn’t be coming here, anyway. I turned eighteen today.”
“What, you think that county or state’s got it any better than us?” he laughed. “Juvie’s practically a five-star resort compared to them. If you think this is bad, you just go on and get into trouble as an adult and see how that suits you.”
“Is that a dare or a double dare?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.
“Oh, I get it,” Officer Maddock said, dripping globs of sweat from his waddle onto the floor as he nodded. “You think you’re clever. Well, let me educate you—I’ve seen plenty of clever girls pass through here, and I’ve seen heaps more occupyin’ cells a helluva lot smaller than these in the Paradise County prison. You ain’t nothin’ special.”
“That’s not what the boys say,” Layla countered, looking the officer up and down behind her dark shades. “I bet even a fat slob like you wants a piece of this ass. You’ve probably been thinking about it ever since I told you I was eighteen. Maybe even before that.”
Officer Maddock pressed his small, pale lips into a tight line and furrowed his brow. “Then the best thing a girl like you can do is get hitched to some old fart with a lotta inheritance to leave behind, ‘cause at the rate you’re goin’, you ain’t gonna be good for much else.”
Layla splayed her hand across chest and batted her long, inky eyelashes. “Was that a proposal, officer?” she asked in her best innocent voice. Then she smirked and dropped her hand. “Thanks, but no thanks. You’re not my type.”
“Oh,
The juvenile detention center of Oasis, Arizona was stifling. Layla could feel long trails of sweat dribbling down her spine and pooling in the small of her back. It soaked through the elastic band of her high-riding thong, sticking it to her flesh as she waited for the correctional officer to return. He’d gone to check on the air conditioning nearly ten minutes ago, and what little patience Layla had was running thin.
This was all her parents’ idea, and it was probably the stupidest one they’d had yet. Just because they’d caught her smoking a little weed and found the fake ID she used to go drinking at the clubs she was too young for didn’t mean that the cops ever would. And besides, she was eighteen today. There wasn’t anything they could do to stop her now.
She fanned herself with her hand and pushed up her sunglasses as they slid down her sweat-slickened face. On top of everything else, she had a wicked hangover. This was quickly turning out to be the worst birthday ever.
She gathered up the length of her hair and lifted it away from her neck, fished a hair tie out of the pocket of her too-tight, hip-hugger jeans, and wrapped it around her golden locks until only the tiniest strands were left against her skin. Layla hated Arizona summers almost as much as she hated Oasis itself. She couldn’t wait to get out of there.
Her thoughts turned to LA. It would be such a dream to live there. She bet Katy Perry didn’t have these problems.
The door at the end of the hall opened and Layla looked over, blowing a sweltering breath from between her pink, pouty lips. Officer Maddock, her painfully obese tour guide, was waddling down the hall toward her, his uniform stained with oceans of malodorous sweat. She wrinkled her nose as she watched him daub a handkerchief against his forehead, collecting the beads threatening to spill into his muddy eyes.
“The system’s shot,” he announced once he’d come close enough for her to smell him. “There’s nothin’ they can do ‘til the techs get here.” He blew out a gust of air that smelled almost as bad as his body did and added: “Let this be another reason that you don’t ever wanna come here. Can you imagine bein’ stuck in your cell in this kinda heat?”
Layla rolled her eyes and turned her face away from the corpulent officer. “I wouldn’t be coming here, anyway. I turned eighteen today.”
“What, you think that county or state’s got it any better than us?” he laughed. “Juvie’s practically a five-star resort compared to them. If you think this is bad, you just go on and get into trouble as an adult and see how that suits you.”
“Is that a dare or a double dare?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.
“Oh, I get it,” Officer Maddock said, dripping globs of sweat from his waddle onto the floor as he nodded. “You think you’re clever. Well, let me educate you—I’ve seen plenty of clever girls pass through here, and I’ve seen heaps more occupyin’ cells a helluva lot smaller than these in the Paradise County prison. You ain’t nothin’ special.”
“That’s not what the boys say,” Layla countered, looking the officer up and down behind her dark shades. “I bet even a fat slob like you wants a piece of this ass. You’ve probably been thinking about it ever since I told you I was eighteen. Maybe even before that.”
Officer Maddock pressed his small, pale lips into a tight line and furrowed his brow. “Then the best thing a girl like you can do is get hitched to some old fart with a lotta inheritance to leave behind, ‘cause at the rate you’re goin’, you ain’t gonna be good for much else.”
Layla splayed her hand across chest and batted her long, inky eyelashes. “Was that a proposal, officer?” she asked in her best innocent voice. Then she smirked and dropped her hand. “Thanks, but no thanks. You’re not my type.”
“Oh,
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