"That's the problem, Andy. Everybody has a snapping point. Even good guys can be killers."
And on that cheery note, we hung up. I stopped at a stop sign and sent Tess a quick text.
Got some bad news.
Deck the freaking halls.
34
Tess
In the security guy's defense, he'd been chasing a couple of shoplifters.
And he'd only just learned to drive the Segway.
And his wife was nine months pregnant, so he'd been distracted.
And he was very, very, very sorry.
As he kept telling me and Molly, over and over and over again.
Luckily, Ezra had been driving pretty slowly when he'd taken a shaky left turn and plowed into us right in front of the Build-a-Bear workshop. I hit the floor, Ezra tumbled into the wall, and Molly went flying into a display of Christmas-themed stuffed animals.
None of us were hurt, really. I hit my cheek on Ezra's boot and could tell a bruise was already starting—the delicate Irish-redhead skin in action—and he sprained his ankle. Molly was completely fine and laughing like a loon, which made me laugh, and even Ezra stopped apologizing and managed a chuckle.
Until his boss ran up and started barking questions and orders. Somehow, he'd gotten the impression that Molly and I were the shoplifters, and he threatened us with the police before even asking if we were all right.
Molly's smile disappeared, and she stood, her eyes narrowed, and pointed at the boss guy. "You should listen to me right now. In pursuit of suspects, your official mall employee justran into us, causing us physical injury and emotional distress."
When the man backtracked fast, she pointed at the guard. "Ezrawas apologizing to us like a decent person.You, however, started out with threats. In the lawsuit, you'd better believe we will name you personally."
By this time, the manager's face was purple, and Ezra looked scared to death, so I stepped in—sort of; I was still sitting on the floor, feeling dizzy—so I could calm things down.
"Hey, now. We aren't going to sue, and it wasn't Ezra's fault. Minor accident, could happen to anybody. It's Christmas, after all."
Molly sneered at the manager. "Fine. But if we hear you took any disciplinary action against Ezra, who has a baby on the way, we'll reconsider that lawsuit."
I held in my grin, scooped up my purse and packages, and prepared to haul myself up off the ground. Before I could manage it, though, the poor, unsuspecting guard, still apologizing beneath his breath, reached down and grabbed my hand to help me up off the floor.
Molly yelled "No!" and threw herself at him, but it was too late.
Ezra's death exploded in my mind, knocking the breath out of me. I slumped back down onto the floor, pulling my hand away when it was too late—the damage was done.
By some Christmas miracle, the vision wasn't as physically painful or emotionally upsetting as some had been in the past. I even smiled a little, looking up at the guard, who would die on his hundredth birthday, skydiving with his son and daughter. His last view would be of their smiling faces and a wonderful view of green hills, and then he'd slip away with a slight pain in his chest.
It couldn't get much better than that.
Molly crouched down next to me. "Are you okay? What can I do?"
I smiled at her, catching my breath. "I'm good. It wasn't awful."
When she kept fussing, I patted her hand, regathered my packages, and stood. "No, really, I'm fine."
Poor Ezra, who had no idea what had just happened, stood there wringing his hands. "I'm so sorry, I—"
His phone rang loudly in his pocket, and he jumped.
"You should look at that," Molly advised him. "Might be the baby."
