Page 13 of Rastor

And then it got worse.

Because she started crying.

Suddenly, I couldn't stop myself. I gathered her in my arms, holding her tight against my chest, shielding her as best I could from everything around us.

I murmured into her hair, "God, this is all my fault. I'm so, so sorry. Baby, c'mon, don't cry."

Nearby, a camera flashed. I looked up and saw Shaggy too damn close for comfort. His phone was aimed straight at Chloe. I wanted to rip that thing of his hands and shoved it up his ass.

Instead, I gritted my teeth and told him, "You take one more shot of her, and you're gonna be out more than just another phone."

I turned away, holding Chloe tighter and shielding her from the guy's view. But he shifted along with us and zoomed in on Chloe's face, which was still buried against my chest. What the hell? Did the guy have a death wish or something?

I gave him a murderous glare. "Get the fuck away from her!"

The guy shrugged and took a half-step backward. He raised his phone again, looking too stupid to be afraid until a new voice – this one female – rang out across the parking lot. "Chester! You son of a bitch!"

Chapter 7

Shaggy whirled toward the sound of her voice. I looked over and spotted a crazy-eyed redhead marching toward us. Her face was flushed, and her hair was wild. She stopped on the opposite side of my car and glared at Shaggy. "I knew it!" she hollered.

Holding Chloe tighter, I looked to see his reaction. His eyes were huge, and his mouth was open. He took a couple of steps backward and glanced around, as if looking for the best escape route.

"You bolt now," the redhead warned, "and you're walking home." Her voice rose. "And when you get there, guess what? You're gonna find the locks changed, because I've just about had it with this crap!"

Shaggy gave her a shaky smile. "Heeeey Jen. So what are you doing out here?"

"Me?" she shrieked. "What amIdoing out here? You're kidding, right?"

"Yeah. I mean no," he stammered. "I thought you were gonna wait for me."

"You mean in the fucking restaurant?" she yelled. "Where do you think I've been the last hour?"

"An hour?" Shaggy gave her a nervous look. "Oh c'mon, it hasn't been that long."

She reached into her big red purse and pulled out a foil-wrapped container. "Still want that romantic dinner?"

Shaggy took a step backward. "No, I'm good, but uh, thanks."

Jen laughed. "Oh, you haven't been good for a long time. And you wanna know why? Because of you and your stupid Web site!"

She dug through the foil container. "You know how many times you've left me sitting alone while you chased some stupid story?" Her hand emerged from the container with – what the hell? Was that a jumbo shrimp?

Shaggy was still backing away.

But Jen was moving forward. "And you know how many places?" She raised her arm, and the shrimp went flying.

Shaggy ducked to the side. "Aw c'mon Jen! Not again!"

She reached into the container a second time. "At my sister's wedding!" She hurled another shrimp. It hit Shaggy's chest and bounced to the pavement.

Somewhere nearby, a camera flashed. Shaggy whirled toward it and yelled, "Hey! No pictures! C'mon, dude!"

But the dude – as Shaggy had called him – wasn't backing down. He took a couple more shots and then studied his phone, as if checking to see what he'd captured. Standing next him was a tall woman in a plain black jacket. She had her phone out, too. She aimed it straight at Shaggy, but I saw no flash. Was she taking video? Probably.

Funny, I'd been in Shaggy's shoes more times than I could count. For the past five years, I'd starred in thousands of amateur videos. Some were normal – me getting into my car, me eating dinner at some public place, me walking down the damn street, just trying to grab a sub or whatever.

And then, there were the other shots – me getting a blowjob from some chick in a parking garage, me beating the crap out of two guys who jumped me in some club, me at some urinal, taking a piss, for God's sake. It was the reason that these days, I skipped urinals and went straight for the stalls.