"Hey!" Shaggy hollered. "My phone! What'd you dothatfor?"
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 thoughts were on Lawton. What was he doing here? Had he come to seeme?
"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'rethe 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.
