The pretty college girl's face was pink with pash-rash, her eyes closed in ecstasy. Lyla knew that exquisite feeling, an out-of-body experience. Thoughts didn't matter. It was all about feelings, deep emotional feelings from the most primitive part of the brain. She pried her gaze from the lustful couple and counted out her tips at the cash register.

The manager, Frank cast a disapproving glance at the shenanigans in the corner booth. He wore every hard-working day of his fifty-five years on his lined face. He broke up the make-out session with a gruff bark. "Where do you think you are? Lovers' Lane?"

The couple slid out of the booth, embarrassed as Frank watched them exit.

Lyla grabbed her sweater from behind the counter and draped it over her forearm. "Good night, Frank. Remember, Aubrey's taking my shifts this weekend and next Tuesday."

His brow furrowed. "Why? Where you going?"

"I told you." She smiled. "To the beach."

"Just you and your girlfriend?" Frank wiped the counter with a damp cloth.

"It's Spring Break. There'll be lots of other kids there, too."

"No parents?"

"Nope." She grinned.

Frank shook his head. "Sounds like trouble to me."

She stepped out into the cool night air. On her way to the bus stop, she thought of Jack and the image of him raised her body temperature against the chilly evening air.

The streets were unusually quiet, with light traffic and no visible pedestrians on the sidewalks. In the distance, a radio whispered a familiar song, a tune that Lyla remembered her mother singing while washing dishes. Or maybe it was her father.

Without warning, a force jerked Lyla off her feet and slammed her against the brick building, knocking the air out of her lungs. Before she could process what had happened, her entire field of vision filled with JoJo's menacing face.

"So, where the hell is he?" he hissed. His breath stunk of cheap whiskey.

Lyla squinted at him through a fog, stunned and confused, but fear forced her to focus. She barely managed, "I don't know."

"Take a guess." His eyes narrowed.

"I have no idea," she whispered and lowered her buzzing head.

He lifted her chin roughly, holding her eyes in his. "Don't you lie to me, you little--."

The diner door flew open.

"Hey!" yelled Frank. "Get your filthy hands off her!" He gripped a baseball bat, quick-stepping toward Lyla and her attacker. "I called the cops."

JoJo released her and took a half-step toward Frank. Frank brandished the bat, continuing his advance. The expression on his face made clear that he would feel not an ounce of regret for splitting JoJo's skull in two.

"Come on, tough guy." Frank waved the bat. "Show me how tough you are."

The WHOOP of an approaching police cruiser sent JoJo scurrying.

"You better run, you punk!" Frank yelled. He turned his attention to Lyla. "You okay, kid?"

She nodded.

He leaned his bat against the wall then patted her shoulder with concern. "Why don't you come back inside and I'll fix you a nice ice cream or something?"

"No, thanks." She smiled weakly. "There's my ride."

Darcy's car pulled to the curb. Seeing the commotion on the sidewalk, Darcy opened the door and stepped out onto the street. "Lyla? What happened?"

"I'm fine." She crossed the sidewalk to Darcy's car.

"Bullshit." Darcy dismissed her. "Excuse me," she said to Frank and got behind the wheel.

He leaned into the window, studying Lyla with concern. "You should stay here. File a police report."

"I just wanna go home."

"You be careful. Both of you," Frank said. He turned his narrow eyes to the street. "This neighborhood used to be a decent, safe place."

Darcy steered her car away from the curb.

"Don't tell my dad about this," said Lyla. "He's got enough to worry about."

"About what?! What happened?"

"I don't want to talk about it," she sighed.