He let out a loud sigh as he thought about it. “I guess it won’t hurt.”
“Okay, I’m heading in.”
I bought a scarf off another kiosk just so I’d have a bag to carry around, then headed toward Amber and her friend.
“Amber!” I said, rushing to her for a hug. “What are you doing here?”
Amber’s expression quickly changed from shock to elation. Girl was good. “We’re just shopping. Looking at cute boys. You know, the usual stuff.”
“Indeed I do. I’ll let you girls get back to it. I have a couple of more things to pick up. Tell your mom hi for me.”
“Okay.” We hugged again, and I whispered in her ear, “Have fun. Try on silly hats. Dance to the Muzak. Stick out your tongue. If I’m right and he’s here, he won’t be able to resist commenting on it.”
“You’re right,” she said as realization dawned. He seemed to only text when she was behaving in a certain way or dressed a certain way.
When I let her go, she nodded that she understood.
I gave Brandy a quick hug, too, and hurried off.
The girls started picking up the pace. They tried on sunglasses and hats and sprayed cologne on one another while Reyes and I scanned the crowd, but still nothing. Not until Amber raised her shirt like she was going to flash a cute boy walking by did she get a text. And it was not a nice one.
Joe didn’t seem to appreciate Amber’s sense of humor when he said, Raise that shirt again, and I’ll rip it off you and wrap it around your neck.
I resisted the urge to pump my fist. But I did do a mental Woohoo!
Now the real challenge began. And Amber did beautifully. She looked at the text and burst out laughing, just like we’d instructed. Then she showed it to Brandy, and they both laughed.
I was so proud of her. Pretending to laugh when you were filled with terror was not easy. I’d had to do it before.
After they sobered, they headed toward the food court. But in their haste, and as afraid as they were, Amber forgot to put down a perfume bottle she’d picked up. An alarm rang out, and her eyes rounded.
No.
A saleswoman hurried forward. Amber didn’t know what to do. She glanced around, the terror she was trying to suppress evident on every plane of her face.
My heart broke for her. We would, of course, explain, but the sting would be a bust.
Seconds before the saleswoman reached them, Osh raced by on a skateboard, snatched the perfume out of Amber’s hand, and sped off. When the woman got there, she seemed confused.
Amber improvised beautifully when she pointed to Osh. “I think that boy stole something.”
The woman hurried to call security. And I almost collapsed in relief. Osh didn’t know it yet, but that boy was getting a big fat kiss.
The girls, after almost fainting from relief, continued to the food court, sat at an outside table, and began talking about the text again, pointing at the phone and laughing.
“Come on, Joe,” I said, whispering under my breath.
A second later, another text came though.
You won’t be laughing when I spread those skinny legs, bitch.
Oh, yeah, he was angry.
Two of the cops stuck to the girls like glue while I surfed the crowd. If he was in it, I’d feel the anger. A strong emotion like that would be hard to miss.
Ubie’s voice came through. “Anything, Charley?”
I could only shake my head. I did a complete circle and got nothing. What the hell? He had to be here.
I glanced up toward the second floor but saw no one really watching, besides Reyes. He’d taken up position overhead to get a bird’s eye.
Growing frustrated, I started to circle again. The girls kept up the game. I gave Amber the signal to amp it up, at which point they showed a total stranger the text and burst out laughing again. I needed this guy to go ballistic.
I felt anger here and there, but nothing anywhere near what he would be projecting. And then it hit me. Anger, yes. But it was more than that. I felt hatred and jealously and hostility.
Whirling toward the emotions that had now filtered through the masses and were bombarding me, I saw no one.
“What is it?” Ubie asked into the mic. I held up an index finger and walked forward through the crowd. Men of every shape and size sat around eating a variety of mall food, but when I finally spotted the source of the rage, I stopped short, unable to believe my eyes.
I shuffled closer, pretending to look at my phone, but Joe Stalker was so busy watching the girls, she paid me no mind at all when I stopped right beside her table.
It was a kid. A young girl probably no older than Amber. Chubby with short dark hair, curly and unkempt, and ghostly white skin, she looked more like a book nerd than a girl capable of such hatred.
What the hell? Maybe I was wrong. Maybe she was just pissed off at her parents for not buying her the latest copy of Seventeen.
She bent to type out a text, then looked up, waiting.