Free All Night Long by Melody Mayer Page B

the high school thismorning for their athletics pretesting—the school grouped its physical education classes by ability—had drifted away into little knots, or had plopped down on the grass to sun themselves, there were still a few groups at the other end doing strength testing. Kiley had already been through that station. It involved sit-ups, push-ups, and a softball throw. She hadn't been very good at any of it.
    “I saw her down there. She didn't look very happy.”
    “Now see, that I do not understand,” Lydia said. “She's got the hot guy and the hot gig. Plus the rich and famous are throwin' major bucks at her to ink little designs into their skin. That's a danged sweet situation if you ask me.” She twirled a lock of pale blond hair absentmindedly. “Speaking of major bucks, have you made up your mind?”
    Kiley knew Lydia was referring to the tell-all offer from the
Universe
. She scratched some kind of bug bite on her forearm. “No.”
    “No?” Lydia echoed. “Did you drop about fifty IQ points while I was hightailing my perky butt around that track?”
    Kiley put her red-checkered hightops up on the bleacher step below her. “It's just not ethical.”
    Lydia nodded slowly. “Hmmmm. I see your point. You don't want to profit from Platinum's problem.”
    “Exactly,” Kiley agreed, pleased that Lydia understood.
    “So do the story and give
me
the money,” Lydia concluded sweetly.
    Kiley laughed. “I should have known you had an angle.”
    Lydia elbowed her in the ribs. “Heads up. Here comes my fan club.”
    Kiley did a mental eye-roll as Staci and Zona bounded towardthem. Staci's dark locks were pushed back off her face with a slender headband, while Zona's blond curls were noticeably sweaty.
    “You were fantastic!” Staci gushed to Lydia, pretty much ignoring Kiley's existence. “No one tells Coach Bucky to go to hell.”
    “Mr. Shelton, you mean?”
    “That's what everyone calls him,” Zona explained. “Only after what you said, we should call him Shell-shocked Shelton.” She giggled. “I took a photo of him on my phone right after you told him to go screw himself.” She held her phone out to Lydia.
    Kiley leaned in to look at it. Coach Bucky's mouth was hanging open like a beached carp on the shore of the Mississippi. It really
was
funny.
    “Watch out,” Zona warned. “Coach Bucky will probably handcuff you to a locker until you agree to run track for him.”
    “If a guy is going to cuff me, it's going to be for fun,” Lydia commented, “which lets ole Bucky-Boy out. Plus, he'll be younger, hotter, and up all night,” Lydia drawled. She looked thoughtful. “What a fun idea. I'll have to tell Billy, my boyfriend. Where do you actually buy handcuffs—anyone know?”
    The Bel Air girls' jaws dropped.
    “I'm into whips and chains, myself,” Kiley managed to say without blushing. She truly disliked these girls. It was fun to shock them.
    Staci arched a brow. “You?” she asked dubiously.
    “Oh, she's much wilder than she looks,” Lydia put in.
    “Where did you say you grew up again?” Zona asked. “Michigan?”
    “Wisconsin.”
    “Whatever.” Staci flipped her dark hair. “Aren't people from Wisconsin called cheeseheads?”
    Zona laughed. “What a great nickname for you!” she told Kiley. “Cheesehead!”
    Kiley's face burned. But what burned her even more was the fact that she was letting these two mean little bitches get to her.
    “I was in Wisconsin last summer,” Staci added. “My dad runs Uprising Studios. I was a production assistant on Julia Roberts's last movie—we shot in Green Bay. Frankly, I think she's toast since she became a mother.”
    “Totally,” Zona agreed. “Zero sex appeal.” She cut her eyes at Kiley. “Kind of like you, Cheesehead.”
    “I don't think you want to go around dissing my friend,” Lydia said, her tone sweet and conversational. “Because that would make me mad. And trust me, you don't want to make me mad.”
    Kiley's