Someone changed all the televisions to a news channel, so that suddenly all the screens were featuring a close-up shot of yours truly. They were rerunning my announcement in front of the hospital. The angle widened to show the rest of my group standing behind me, including the very large and distinctive-looking Amber.
“Hey, that’s you two, isn’t it?” asked a brave, pimply faced employee who looked like he was still in high school.
I nodded confirmation.
“Cool,” he said, coming over to talk to us, and that broke the ice. More people converged around us, ringing us in a loose semicircle that had Amber tensing next to me.
“We’re fine, Amber,” I said, squeezing his arm. “They’re just curious.”
I answered questions and even signed autographs. The crowd was very well behaved, probably out of respect for Amber and his intimidating size, but that could just be the cynical part of me talking. A few brave people even asked Amber for an autograph, which he gravely gave, after I explained that they just wanted him to sign his name for them. Pretty soon, almost everyone in the store had drifted over to us, except for a few shoppers and salespeople who craned their necks curiously our way but still went about their business.
It wasn’t long before the manager of the store, an older man with thinning hair and glasses, pushed his way through the thick crowd, saying, “Everyone, please continue your shopping. You cannot gather here. Everyone, please continue your shopping . . .”
Two mall security personnel followed behind him, a thin man and a short woman.
“Ms. Hamilton,” the manager said with a strained smile. “How can we help you in our store?”
“My friend is buying something. We’re almost done.” I was happy to see Quentin at the register paying for his purchase. He made his way over to us, and the crowd parted for him as if sliced open by his beaming smile and outrageously good looks.
“I thought you were just buying a laptop,” I said, eyeing the two large boxes and blue shopping bag he was loaded down with.
“There was a very nice combo sale on a laptop, printer, and carry bag. I also got a ream of paper, ink cartridges, and a memory key. You gotta admit that was a pretty quick purchase.” To buy all that in under ten minutes, it really was. It just hadn’t felt that way. It had felt like forever.
“Any change left?” I asked.
“Fifty-five dollars and change.”
I sighed. Another thousand dollars spent.
I took the shopping bag and passed one of the boxes to Amber to free up a hand for Quentin to sign autographs with, which he did with an easy, charming smile that accelerated quite a few hearts. Our boy was definitely not shy.
“Sorry about that,” I said to the hovering manager. “All done now. Do you want us to leave the fast way or would you rather we walked out at normal speed?”
He blinked nervously. “Uh . . . we will walk you out, at normal speed,” he said.
“The parking lot exit then,” I said, nodding toward where we had entered. Much better than going through the mall with this crowd.
The security guards made a path for us through the crowd. Cell phones went up on either side of us, with numerous clicks and flashes as we passed by. One last photo opportunity when the young employee near the exit checked our purchased items against the receipt, and then we were out the store. People spilled out the doors, following us.
“Amber, Quentin. Ready to run? Last one there is a rotten egg,” I said, taking off.
We left the crowd behind in a burst of speed, running until we came around to the main entrance.
“Last one there is a rotten egg?” Quentin repeated as we entered the restaurant. “I cannot believe you said that. It’s probably being posted on the Internet right now.”
“What does that mean?” Amber asked.
“It’s just a childish taunt,” I explained, smiling. “A way of saying let’s race and I’m going to beat your ass.”
People began noticing us almost immediately. A college-aged girl with her hair pulled back in a long brown ponytail watched with a shocked expression as we approached her hostess stand. Her mouth wasn’t exactly hanging open, but it was close as she gazed from Quentin up to Amber. Me, she barely glanced at.
“I’d like three tables outside,” I told her. “The ones closest to the velvet ropes, please.”
“Um . . . ah . . . how many people?” she asked, clearly flustered.
“Three at each table. Six others will be joining us soon, so if you could seat us and reserve two other tables next to the velvet ropes, I’d appreciate it.”
Something about sitting down to eat kept people away who would otherwise have approached anywhere else. An equally flustered waitress came over, stumbled through the specials, and asked if we wanted anything to drink.
“We’re ready to order now,” I said. I ordered a virgin piña colada, one of my favorite drinks, and a fruit and cheese platter appetizer dish. Quentin ordered two bottles of Coke, unopened, for both himself and Amber.
“I do not wish to drink anything,” Amber said after the waitress left.
“It’s just polite custom,” I explained. “If you’re going to take a table at a restaurant, you have to order something, even if it’s just a drink, to pay for taking a seat another paying customer could have occupied instead.”
Nolan, Hannah, and Dontaine arrived at the same time our drinks were brought out. The rest came ten minutes later, loaded down with shopping bags.
“What took you guys so long?” I asked, having eaten all the fruit and half of the cheese on my platter.
“Sorry,” Dante said. “We were recognized.”
“We weren’t.” Dontaine grinned.
“Yeah, but none of you guys were wearing surgical scrubs,” Dante countered.
Kelly and Jarvis were wearing newly purchased shirts and pants, I was pleased to see.
Soon after, McManus made his way through the gathering crowd, which had quickly thickened into a substantial size as shoppers entering and exiting the mall all stopped to stare at us.
“Congratulations,” I said to McManus, handing him the bundle of cash Dontaine had counted out, “you made it before any reporters did.”
The bristly-browed attorney counted the money and passed me a large yellow envelope. “Your receipt is in there, along with all your messages and emails. You’re expecting reporters?”
“We’ve been sitting here for fifteen minutes. What do you think?”
“You planning on talking to them?” McManus asked.
“You betcha.”
“Do you want me to stick around?” he asked.
“At four hundred dollars an hour? No thanks, although you’re more than welcome to stay on your own time. I have your cell phone number. If we need your services again, we’ll call you, but likely as not, we won’t. If the police try and take us into custody, we’ll just go.”
His brows slanted down. “You mean do that speed-away thing?”
“Yeah, and you won’t ever hear from us again.”
“Just me or the whole world?” he asked.
“Both.”
“Moment of truth, huh?”
My heart gave a little thump. I hadn’t realized it until he put it so clearly, but yeah, that’s what this would be. “My terms were pretty clear. The government’s had a whole day to decide what they’re going to do.”
“Cops are going to be coming here soon.”
“I know.”
“Then I hope, for everyone’s sake, no one overreacts.”
“Me, too.”
The first reporters sped into the parking lot, with more news vans following right behind them. Mall security had flocked out, and local police screeched in with the FBI right on their heels—one big ’ole party. All new faces, I noted. Last but not least, a couple of carloads of men and women wearing Homeland Security Windbreakers poured out and quickly organized the milling law enforcement personnel to have them push the crowd back farther away from us. So far none of the officers or agents had made a move on us or drawn their weapons. McManus, I saw, had decided to stay and was talking to a couple of reporters himself.