Out of Time (Face the Music Book 3) Read Online Free Page A

I? Can you imagine the performance if I brought a boyfriend around that she hadn’t approved of? The insinuations.’ That her grandmother still considered being a virgin a virtue was almost enough to make get out there and lose it. She wasn’t getting any younger, her friends were out there having fun … and having their hearts broken … and she was missing out.
    No man was going to keep it in his pants to share the experience with her. The double standard irked her. And the more Grandmother harped on, the more the annoyance festered.
    Her mother sighed. ‘Be sure, because your father and your grandmother will not be welcoming if you need to come back.’
    Her mother would welcome her back, but no one else would. They probably wouldn’t let her through the door. It cut to know that following the rules was more important than her happiness.
    If she didn’t do it this time, would she ever? How far did she let herself get pushed before she no longer had the strength to get back up? If she stayed, Grandmother would wear her down.
    It had to be done. ‘I’m sure.’
    ***
    Mike threw himself into working, then seeing his mother and then going around to Ed’s to work on the songs that would eventually become the second album. By the time he got home it was midnight. Then he’d wake up six hours later and repeat. It was a brutal schedule that left him exhausted and with no time to think.
    It was exactly what he needed.
    On Saturday night he went out with Dan. Or at least, he’d wanted to. Dan had already been drunk when Mike had showed up at the flat. His flat that Dan was turning into a bit of a swamp while he stayed there. Instead of clubbing, he’d sat on the sofa and got drunk with Dan while they watched action flicks and avoided talking and therefore arguing about the dumb shit they had been fighting about. It wasn’t the same as clubbing. And it wasn’t fun.
    And there were no chicks.
    And Dan was lousy company.
    In the morning he left Dan a note to clean the place up or he’d start charging him rent. Then he pulled his pushbike out. He hadn’t done any real riding in a year. Zipping around the corner or to Ed’s place didn’t count.
    He should be able to make it to the hospice though. He’d ridden between his flat and his mother’s place many times before and the hospice was closer. He grabbed his belly. He wasn’t as fit as he had been. Too much beer.
    If he couldn’t make it he could always admit defeat and get on a bus. Even as he thought it he knew that was never going to happen. He’d do the ride even if it meant he was throwing his guts up all the way home.
    He tossed a clean shirt in a backpack, along with a drink bottle, and headed out.
    The heatwave had broken and the morning was blessedly cool. For the first ten minutes he actually enjoyed the ride, the breeze on his face and the lack of traffic on the road. He remembered why he liked riding.
    He didn’t even care the Lycra-clad riders were whipping past him. He wasn’t going for speed, he just needed something to do. Sitting around his mother’s house was depressing. He didn’t know what to do. She’d talked about selling it. He couldn’t face that. It was stupid, but losing the house and his mother was too much.
    He needed to do something though, as he was paying his mother’s mortgage as well as his own and he knew he wouldn’t be able to keep working once they went over east again. The only reason he could pick up work was because he’d kept in contact with his old boss and the demand for electricians was high.
    Something needed to break, or he would.
    Knowing that and knowing what to do were two very different things.
    In short he was fucked, and not in the fun way.
    At least by staying in he hadn’t woken up somewhere strange and with that seedy feeling in the pit of his stomach. All he had was a slight hangover that wasn’t improving with the ride, as it was making him realise how clouded his head was. And his thighs were on