A minute later, I was shivering outside with the rest of them. I stood on my tiptoes, trying to catch some sort of clue. It was no use. Between the shifting crowd and massive tour buses, a good vantage point was proving impossible to find.
Near the back of the crowd, the shaggy-haired guy was awkwardly taking pictures, or maybe video, with his cell phone. As I watched, he held the phone above the crowd, pressed a button, and then pulled down the phone to take a look. He frowned as he studied the tiny screen.
I hustled to his side and tapped him on the shoulder. "What's going on?" I asked.
"Got me," he said, lifting his phone again. This time, when he studied the screen, he gave a low chuckle. "But I think it's gonna be good."
"Why?" I said. "What is it?"
"Hang on," he said, lifting the phone yet again. This time, when he studied the screen, he gave a sigh of irritation. "Damn it."
"Why don't you just get closer?" I asked.
He gave me a look. "Why don't you?"
I glanced at the crowd, crammed shoulder-to-shoulder in front of me. The parking lot was huge, but the commotion seemed centered between the two buses, leaving only a narrow alley between them.
Unless I was willing to shove someone aside, this was as close as I'd be getting.
"See?" Shaggy said. "You don't wanna get your ass beat neither, huh?" He cleared his throat. "Besides, I already tried. People take this shit seriously."
"But you were the first one out here," I said. "How come you're not up front?"
"Because," he said, "I had to grab my phone out of the car." He glanced toward the restaurant. "You can thank my girlfriend for that."
He mimicked a high-pitched female voice. "You love that stupid cell phone more than me. Can't you leave it outside just once so we can have a nice dinner?" His voice returned to normal. "So I leave it outside, and what happens?" He flicked his head toward the crowd. "This."
I looked toward the commotion. I still didn't know what this was.
"She'd better be grateful," the guy said.
I'd seen the look on the redhead's face. When he returned, he was more likely to get a fork in the eyeball than anything resembling gratitude.
"Um, yeah," I said, as I craned my neck in a desperate bid for a better vantage point.
"Hey, I've got it," he said. His eyes were bright with excitement. "You wanna see, right? I know. Lemme give you a boost."
"A boost?"
"Yeah. Get you higher for a better look." He grinned. "For a price."
I narrowed my gaze. "What kind of price?" My skirt was almost obscene as it was. One lift above eye level, and I might as well be charging him.
"Video." He thrust his phone into my hand. "Zoom in on the car, will ya?"
"What car?"
"You'll see." He licked his lips. "Oh man, this'll be great on my site. Total viral. You just watch."
I glanced toward the commotion. The lights were still flashing. A few paces ahead of me, someone laughed long and hard.
It had been a hellish night. If there was one thing I could use, it was a good laugh. Probably, so could Josie.
Still, this was beyond strange. I bit my lip. "I dunno."
"Aw c'mon, please?" He looked at me with puppy dog eyes. "I'm desperate. Help a guy out, will ya?"
He looked so ridiculous that I had to smile. The sensation felt utterly foreign after faking it far too long. Something inside me uncoiled, and I felt an odd surge of gratitude for the unexpected release.
"I can't believe I'm actually considering this," I said.
He grinned. "Just be careful of the phone, alright? I just replaced it last week." He smile faded, and he looked around. "Some psycho smashed the piss out of my last one. Can you believe it?"
Oddly enough, I could.
A second later, he leapt behind me and called out, "Ready?"
I didn't move. Sure, I owed Josie and all, but how would this work? I looked down at my skirt. It was way too short for what the guy was suggesting.
But then, almost before I knew what was happening, I felt Shaggy's head plow between my knees and his hands on my waist. "Hey!" I yelled, clutching his head for balance as he lifted me skyward. "What are you doing?"
"The favor. Just like we talked about."
"Yeah, but—"
"Now c'mon. Get me some good stuff, will ya? Remember," he said, "the car. Anyone pops out of it, get a shot of 'em, alright?"
Already, this had been one of the strangest nights of my life. I glanced down, relieved to see my skirt – and not my panties – pressed tight against the back of his neck.
If nothing else, at least I wasn't giving the guy's neck a hoo-ha massage.
I shifted my gaze to the commotion, eager for a laugh, or at least a distraction. There was only one problem. What I saw there wasn't exactly the chucklefest I'd been hoping for.
Chapter 7
Wobbling on Shaggy's shoulders, I caught my breath. Memories flashed in my brain. Two guys in ski masks. A dark sedan. A knife at my throat. Concrete at my back. A gloved hand mashed across my mouth.
Had it really been only just a few hours ago? Unsteadily, I reached a hand to my throat. That knife, it hadn't even been real. But it sure had felt real. My fear, that was more real than anything – until a rescuer had shot out of the darkness to change everything.
Lawton.
If I closed my eyes, I could still see his face, a shadowed profile of unrestrained fury as he beat the living crap out of the guy who'd been on top of me. If Lawton's brother hadn't pulled him off, well, let's just say the guy's odds of survival weren't looking too good.
Now, staring at that all-too-familiar vehicle, my legs felt rubbery. It couldn't be the same car. It just couldn't. And yet, something in my gut told me it was, in spite of the car's new and oddly profane paint job.
Below me, Shaggy called out. "The hood – what does it say?"
I looked around. It wasn't exactly a crowd-friendly phrase. I glanced at the guy closest to us. It was that older guy who'd been standing at the bar. My mouth opened, but no words came out.
"Oh for Pete's sake," the older guy said, "just spit it out, will ya?"
"Fine." I shot him a look. "Asshole patrol."
His bushy eyebrows lowered. "Well, you don't have to get all personal about it."
I rolled my eyes. "Not you. The car."
Below me, Shaggy called out, "Oh man, sweet! That's what I thought. You got the video, right?"
Dutifully, I turned back to the car. I held up the phone and pressed play.
"Make sure you catch everything!" Shaggy called out. "The hood, the doors, whatever you can get!"
But I couldn't. Because I wasn't even looking at the car. Not anymore. I was looking at a face in the crowd. I knew that face. I knew it so well that my heart ached.
My mouth went dry, and I forgot to breathe. The face looked haunted, with hollow eyes and a grim mouth.
Like some kind of pathetic sponge, I soaked up the sight of him. He wore a dark hoodie with the hood thrown back, revealing that tousled hair, those chiseled features, and the barest hint of the tattoos that decorated his amazing body.
It was Lawton, the guy I loved. And the guy I hated.
He wasn't looking at the car either.
He was looking at me.
Chapter 8
A metallic, clattering sound jolted me back to reality.
"Hey!" Shaggy hollered. "My phone! What'd you do that for?"
I looked down, and there it was, the phone, lying on the pavement a couple paces in front of Shaggy's feet.
Suddenly, I was practically body surfing as Shaggy dove toward his phone. When he bent nearly double, I flew off his shoulders, and my feet hit the pavement too hard to keep my balance. I stumbled into the people ahead of me, who turned to give me dirty looks.
Shaggy swooped up his phone and gave it a good, long look.
"Damn it," he said. "This thing's brand new."
My eyes were on the phone, but my thou
ghts were on Lawton. What was he doing here? Had he come to see me?
"If it's broke," Shaggy said, "you'll get me a new one, right?"
My jaw dropped. "You've got to be kidding me."
"Sorry, but it's only fair," he said. "You were the one who dropped it, not me."
"Hey," I said, "you're the one who told me to get up there. Remember?"
"Yeah. And I also told you to be careful." His tone grew snotty. "Remember?"
"Oh shut up," I said. "It's fine." I looked down. At least, it looked fine.
"Yeah?" he said. "Well, I'll need your name in case it's not."
He wanted a name? Fine. I'd give him a name. "Betty," I said.
It was the same name I'd given him earlier, when I'd introduced myself as his waitress. Of course, back then I'd been joking. Now, this was no joke.
Sure, he could get my real name if he really wanted it. But until then, I was Betty. And I was gonna stay Betty.
His gaze narrowed. "You don't look like a Betty."
"Neither do you," I said.
His forehead wrinkled. "What the hell's that supposed to mean?"
Honestly, I had no idea. I didn't care what the guy's name was. I could barely remember my own. Lawton was here. I wanted to run. To him? Or from him? My head felt on the verge of exploding.
Across from me, Shaggy was typing something into his cell phone, probably on some digital notepad. "And your last name?" he said.
I crossed my arms. "Boop."
"No shit?" He shook his head. "Man, it must've been hell for you growing up, huh?"
If he only knew the half of it. Of course, my rocky childhood had nothing to do with what my parents had named me, which definitely wasn't Betty. And besides, my last name was Malinski.
Sure, the name wasn't the most glamorous in the world, but it was better than being named after a cartoon character.
"Poor kid," Shaggy said, looking down at his phone. The digital notepad was gone, and I saw stills of the video footage. His fingers flew across the tiny screen. Suddenly, he did a double-take. "Holy shit," he said. "Is that who I think it is?"
Oh crap. This wasn't good. I clamped my lips together to keep from groaning.
"Check it out." Shaggy thrust the phone in my face. "Lawton Rastor. Am I right?"
Reluctantly, I studied the video still. And there he was, the man of my nightmares, the man of my dreams. He stood a few paces behind the car, his hands thrust into the front pockets of his dark hoodie. His gaze bored straight into the camera.
At me.
How on Earth had I missed that? But I knew exactly how. When I'd hit the play button, I'd been focused on that car.
Oh shit. The car.
That thing was definitely the same car my attackers had been driving. It had to be.
Had Lawton dropped it off? And if so, why here? Why now?
In front of me, Shaggy was licking his lips. "Oh yeah. It's totally him."
I shook my head. "I don't think so."
"Goes to show what you know." He straightened. "I'm a professional. And I'm tellin' ya, it's him." He grinned. "And you know what I say to that?"
Hell, I didn't even know what I'd say to that. I shook my head.
"Cha-ching!" Shaggy slapped me on the back, buddy style. "You know what, Betty? Tonight's your lucky night. Because this little video's gonna make my rent."
My stomach was churning. "Yeah. That's me. Lucky."
He grinned. "So, are you ready to take some more?"
"Hell no," I said. "I'm not gonna make that mistake twice."
"Oh c'mon, Betty," he said. "Don't be that way." He pulled out his puppy dog face and turned it on full-force.
Some puppy. I felt like swatting him with a rolled up newspaper. "No way," I said.
Not eager to be hoisted again, I turned and plunged into the crowd, no longer caring whether there was room or not.
Whatever was going on, it involved Lawton, and it involved me. And, if my hunch was correct, it involved two guys in ski masks who'd attacked me not that awful long ago.
Squeezing between the closely packed bodies, I jostled my way forward, ignoring muttered curses and grunts of disapproval. At least no one threatened to kick my ass. Well, not that I noticed anyway.
Finally, I stood near the front of the crowd. I looked to the spot where Lawton had been standing.
He was gone.
Chapter 9
I scanned the scene in front of me, trying to make sense of it. The police cruiser was parked on the opposite side of the dark sedan. The lights were still flashing, giving the faces in the crowd an odd, disjointed appearance as people craned their necks for a closer look.
Two uniformed police officers stood behind the defaced car. They studied the trunk with expressions that I could only describe as perplexed.
I turned to the guy next to me, a lanky guy in a black wool coat. "What's going on?" I asked.
"Not sure," he said. "Every time I try to get close, the cops tell me to back off."
I glanced at the car. Something near the rear was thumping. The thumping sounded familiar.
"Sweet!" said a voice behind me. "Something's in the trunk. I'm betting it's mobsters. It's always mobsters."
Damn it. I recognized that voice. I turned around, and there he was. Shaggy. He was holding out his phone again, capturing whatever was in front of him.
"What the hell are you doing here?" I said.
"Hey, you paved the way," he said. "I just followed in your wake." He grinned. "Nice job with the elbows, by the way. I could learn a thing or two from you."
Suddenly, my fondest wish was for the guy to be gone. "What about your girlfriend?" I said, thinking of the redhead. "Are you ever going back inside? That's a hint, by the way."
"Yeah? Well what about my waitress?" he said. "Is she ever going back inside?"
"Oh shut up," I said. "I'm not your waitress anymore. They sent me home."
He shrugged. "That's the breaks, Betty."
With a sigh of irritation, I turned around to face the commotion. The trunk was still thumping. Mobsters, my ass.
A second later, Shaggy jostled his way between me and Wool Coat. "I'm telling ya," he said, "ten bucks says it's mobsters."
"You're on," I said. My gaze narrowed. "But I wanna see the cash up front."
Shaggy made a show of patting his pockets. "I'm a little short," he said. "Take an I.O.U.?"
"Hell no," I said.
Wool Coat spoke up. "No sense in betting," he said. "It's not mobsters. It's just a couple of frat boys."
"Really?" I leaned around Shaggy. "How do you know?"
"The police have been talking to 'em ."
"How?" I said.
"Through the trunk."
"If it's a frat thing," Shaggy said, "it's gotta be Sig-Eps. Those dudes are totally whacked." He elbowed me in the side. "Heh, whacked. Get it?" He chuckled at his own joke. "See, maybe they are mobsters."
"If anyone's whacked," I said, "it's you."
He beamed. "Thanks, Betty."
"It wasn't a compliment." I leaned toward Wool Coat. "Why don’t they just open the trunk and get it over with?" I asked. "What are they waiting for?"
Just then, a big tow-truck rumbled up behind the police car, moving slowly to allow the crowd time to shift out of the way.
Wool Coat pointed to the truck. "They're waiting for that, I guess."
"Alright, people!" the shorter of the two police officers yelled. "Everybody back!"
Soon, a burly guy with a beard emerged from the tow truck. He grabbed a tool box from the back and approached the officers. And then, flanked by them, he approached the back of the car and went to work.
A few minutes later, the sedan's trunk flew open. The crowd grew absolutely silent, waiting and watching. The officers leaned in for a closer look.
Between them, the tow truck driver scratched his chin. His eyebrows furrowed. "Now, that's a first," he said.
Slowly, a couple of figures emerged from the trunk –
two half-naked men in ski masks.
At first, no one made a sound. And then, a woman behind me snickered. That's all it took. A second later, the crowd burst into laughter as the two guys stumbled out onto the pavement.
Next to me, Shaggy was practically salivating onto his phone. "Oh man," he said. "This is gonna be the best payday ever."
Aside from the masks, the guys wore only two things – bling and their underwear.
"Huh," Shaggy said. "You know what? I've got underwear exactly like that."
I glanced at the guys. One wore striped boxer shorts. The other wore tiny black briefs that left very little to the imagination. I gave Shaggy a sideways glance. "Uh, the boxers?"
Please be the boxers. Please be the boxers.
"Wouldn't you like to know?" he said.
I shook my head. "No. I'm pretty sure I know way too much already."
Unsteadily, the two guys crawled out of the trunk. They looked beyond ridiculous, especially with all the jewelry – thick gold necklaces, expensive looking wristwatches, and giant rings that glittered on almost every finger.
They'd worn the same kind of the night I'd first met them. I'd been their waitress, unfortunately. They'd been the customers from hell – drunk, rowdy, and obscene, just like their dates, Brittney and Amber, the skanky duo.
"Look at those rings," Shaggy said. "See, they are mobsters." He turned to smirk at me. "Goes to show what you know." He held out his hand, palm up. "I'll take my ten bucks now."
I glanced down at the hand. "Dream on," I said.
Besides, those guys weren't mobsters. They were two player wannabees who had tried to kidnap the wrong girl.
Me.
On instinct I backed up, trying to melt into the crowd. As far as I could tell, neither guy had noticed me. And for some reason, I definitely wanted to keep it that way.
When the guy in the black briefs finished climbing out of the trunk, he turned to face the crowd and yelled, "What the hell are you looking at?"
On the side opposite us, a heavyset woman spoke up. "You tell us, Loverboy!"
The crowd burst into fresh laughter.
"Hey, Loverboy!" Shaggy hollered over the distance. "Take off the mask, will ya! Show us your face!"
Rebelonging (Unbelonging, Book 2) Page 3