The best Ryan could do in place of ice was cold, wet cloths. Shay would have a nasty black eye, that was for sure. Why didn’t she listen to him? She could have gone back to life in the mall and been fine. Now she was tattooed, but in a different way than when he’d met her. This was the gift he’d given her: violence.
At least their faces would match. Ryan had enjoyed the hospitality of Goldman’s fist himself. There seemed to be no check on the guy’s sense of self-importance. Didn’t he report to that woman on the loudspeaker? Didn’t she give a crap that he was beating kids up in a back room?
Shay kept groaning, starting in her sleep. Ryan wished the crew down in the front would shut up for five minutes, but there seemed to be a heated debate over some bull. Everything was always the biggest deal. When would things go back to the boring crap they usually were? Certainly not before they were out of this hellhole.
There was a knock at the door to the fire stairwell.
“See?” Drew barked. “There are people who want to join us.”
“There are people who want to drink our beer,” Mike growled, eyeing the bimbos. Why Drew had thought it wise to take not only the Tarrytown players, but their female companions, Ryan had no idea. Maybe Drew figured Mike would forgive him his insatiable libido, the way he always did.
“We don’t have enough food to last us more than three days,” Marco said. He sat apart from the rest, knees scrunched up, back against the wall like some outcast.
Another knock on the door. A muffled voice from outside.
“So we get more food,” Drew said.
“We nearly got killed busting into a makeshift jail,” Mike said. “How do you suppose security will react to our charging the food stores in Sam’s?”
Drew frowned. “Taco will figure something out.”
Marco chuckled in his corner. “I appreciate the vote of confidence, but I am at a loss regarding the Sam’s Club. I tried to bust in there, remember, and ended up a guest of our friendly security forces.”
Banging now, whistles. Ryan thought it sounded like girls at the door.
“Dude,” Drew said. “That’s totally a chick. Girls don’t even eat. I’m letting her in.”
“Do not touch the door,” Mike snarled. He honestly sounded pissed off at Drew.
“We had a vote and the vote was for more chicks.”
“Do not touch the door.”
Ryan trotted down the stairs. “Guys! Let’s all chill a second.”
Drew began removing the barricade made of stacked rows of seats from the door. It was like Ryan hadn’t even spoken.
Mike pulled out his gun and fired. The sound was deafening. Everyone froze.
Mike tucked his gun back in his waistband. “I’m not sure when you all thought this became a democracy, but let me clear this one thing up: I am in charge until someone else saves everyone’s collective ass. As I am the one who planned our little commune, I have final say on who the hell gets in on it.”
Drew glared at Mike, then threw down the row of seats and went to the keg to get another beer.
Ryan approached Mike. “What the hell?” he said. “Are you just going to fire the gun every time someone disagrees with you?”
“Maybe.” Mike was glaring at Drew’s back.
“He’s your best friend,” Ryan said. “Remember?”
Mike flicked his eyes at him. “And what are you?” he asked. “My friend or that chick’s boyfriend? Just remember who’s saved your ass time and again.” Mike stalked toward the back of the theater, past Shay, and disappeared. The lights flicked on in the projection room. Ryan waited to see Mike look down, give some signal through the little window, but none came.
“Guess you’re not the golden boy anymore, Shrimp.” Marco slipped by like a fart in the wind and joined Mike in his skybox.
• • •
Lexi sat alone in the dark of her office. She held little hope of Marco actually showing, but she couldn’t make herself leave. A small part of her would not let go of the hope that everything he’d said had been true, that there had been no lies between them.
How much of an idiot was she? She’d morphed into one of those girls she’d sworn never to become: hanging on a guy who was a total jerk. But then a voice inside her got all offended, He’s not a total jerk. He helped you investigate the ice-skating rink. He liked you. He kissed you. Like this amounted to anything other than a desperate rationalization for having fallen for the wrong guy.
God, but what if he wasn’t the wrong guy?
This place had messed with her brain waves. She used to be so in control. Feelings: All over them. Boys: No problem. Now she was this weepy mess wringing her hands over whether some guy “really liked her.” Who was she?
She desperately needed a reality check. Digging in the bottom desk drawer, she found the CB radio and called Darren.
“Darren?” she whispered.
She waited a few minutes.
“DMaster?”
No response.
He’d said he’d leave his radio on. He’d said he’d wait for her.
She threw the radio in its drawer and kicked it closed. She would not cry. This was baby crap. This was not who she was.
But her dad was sick. And she’d been screwed over by the first guy she’d kissed. And her best friend had bailed. Maybe this was an okay time to cry.
The door creaked. Lexi froze—security was on freaking paranoia steroids. Would they have the audacity to haul her into jail for hiding here?
“Lex?” It was Maddie.
Lexi wiped her face with her shirt. “Yeah, hey.”
“Bastard didn’t show?”
“I feel like an ass.”
Maddie flipped on the light and joined Lexi on the desk. “Boys suck.” She put an arm around her.
Lexi dropped her head onto Maddie’s shoulder. Maybe all her friends hadn’t abandoned her.
• • •
The IMAX was dark when Shay awoke. She knew Ryan was beside her—even after only a day of being together, she could sense his body as a discrete element in the universe. Some people snored at the front. She recalled a party of some sort earlier. It must have already kicked.
She tried to piece together the events of the last few hours and only came away with scraps. She remembered finding Marco and his new friends, Ryan’s friends. She remembered their ridiculously ill-thought-out plan to invade the Stuff-A-Pal stockroom, and she remembered being punched in the face by a large man with a Taser. Shay touched her eye and winced. Beams of light shone from the projection room, so someone else was awake, but for the most part, things were quiet. Quiet enough for Shay to actually think.
Fumbling in the dim light, she found her bag against the rear wall near the rumpled sweatshirt she’d been using as a pillow—it was just like Ryan to think of things like pillows even when sleeping on the floor of a movie theater. Shay pulled out the journal and light pen and began to make a list.
Reasons to Go:
Preeti
Safer in the mall (She put a question mark next to that.)
Less chance of getting punched in the face (She put a question mark next to that too.)
Better food, beds, bathrooms, etc.
The list of reasons to stay was singular: Ryan.
It was selfish, to want Ryan. She liked being with him. She felt better with him by her side. But he didn’t need her. He had his friends. They’d survived all this time together. Ryan and his little clan were good at surviving.
Preeti, on the other hand, was not. Shay had failed as a sister for days now. She prayed that Kris had taken care of her while Shay was out of commission. Not that it was fair to leave that task to him. Shay owed him an apology, Preeti an apology, her parents—they must be completely freaking out. But she had to start somewhere, and that somewhere had to be Preeti. She would make things up to Preeti. She would go back and take care of her, protect her. The fierce animal thing that had awoken in Shay was still there—it would help them both. Especially now that things in the mall were so terrible. Whatever it took, she would help Preeti survive.
Shay closed the book, clicked off the pen, and laid her head on Ryan’s shoulder. She would miss this. She could actually sleep with his arms around her. She kissed his shirtsleeve and nuzzled in for one last night together.