"Well, surely you know," Becka persisted. "What's a crumpet?"
A guy near the front of the line said, "It's a donut."
"It is not," a female voice said. "It's a pastry."
"Yeah," the guy said. "Donut, pastry – same thing."
"You're so full of it," the woman said. "I'm telling you, it's more like a croissant."
A third voice, female and older, chimed in, "No, it's a muffin."
The first woman snapped, "If it's a muffin, they'd just call it a muffin."
"Yeah, but it's anEnglishmuffin," the older woman said. "Except they only toast it on one side."
The donut guy said, "Oh come on! That's not even a pastry."
The older woman replied, "I never said that it was."
The first woman said, "It isn't? Are you sure? Muffins are pastries, right?"
They were still debating it when Imogen turned and yelled out to the crowd. "You know what? You'reallidiots!"
Next to her, Becka gave a snort of derision. "At least we know what a crumpet is."
Imogen whirled to face her. "You do not!"
"Well…" Becka said. "We donow." From the line, there was a chorus of agreement.
Imogen turned once again to the crowd. "Yeah, and so do I. Big whoop!"
The donut guy spoke up. "Hey, how come you're not English no more?"
"Oh, shut up!" Imogen yelled. "How comeyou'restill an idiot?"
Enough was enough.As the guy returned an insult of his own, I moved forward and reached for Imogen's elbow. "Time to go."
She yanked it away and announced, "And I supposeyou'regoing to make me?"
Shit.
From the gleam in her eyes, this was exactly what she wanted – a nice public spectacle for her social media followers. Apparently, I'd be playing the role of Bad Guy.
I didn't give two shits about her followers –orthe bad publicity. But the concern in Becka's eyes made me pause.
Not for long.
One way or another, Imogenwasleaving.
With a slow smile, I lowered my head until my lips nearly brushed her ear. In a casual whisper, I said, "Oh, I don't know, Rachel. I think you're gonna head out on your own."
She gave a hard swallow. "What?"
"Or should I call you Ms. Krepke?"
With a gasp, she pulled back. Our eyes locked, and she swallowed again. Her surprise was obvious, but she shouldn't have been.
Her accent was sloppy, and her back story was paper thin. On the internet, or hell, even on TV, she did a fine enough job. But here, in a crowd of hostiles, she was way out of her league.
