That night at the diner, Lyla's waitressing duties briefly took her mind off her troubles. The diner bustled with customers. She and Aubrey had their hands full, rushing from tables to the kitchen and back, balancing trays of hot food and drinks.

The college girl that Lyla had seen making out with her boyfriend sat in the booth in the back corner but this time there was no boyfriend. Her two girlfriends listened sympathetically as she related her heartbreaking story. She could tell from the girl's red eyes and blotchy face, and by the way that her friends offered consolation that the relationship had ended badly. Maybe she caught him cheating or maybe she got dumped. Whatever the reason, she suffered the anguish of a broken heart.

"Why can't people just stay together?" she muttered to herself as she cleared the plates and wiped the blobs of ketchup and milkshake from the table.

The door flew open and two loud guys yelled, "Lyla the slut!" They ran.

Customers looked from the door to Lyla whose face had gone crimson. She lowered her eyes and finished bussing the table.

"Lyla." Frank waved her over. In a quiet voice, he said, "We can't have any more of this."

"I'm sorry."

"It's no good. You gotta go."

"You're firing me?"

"Take some time off 'til this thing blows over."

She bit her lower lip. "But I need this job."

"Go on now."

"Frank!" Aubrey moaned, looking at the packed diner then back to her boss. "How do you expect me to--?"

He shrugged. "Do the best you can."

Lyla untied her apron then found her sweater on a shelf behind the counter.

"Call your friend. You can stay inside here while you're waiting," Frank offered.

"It's okay," she replied coldly as she exited.

She trudged toward the empty bus stop with her head hung, checking the bus schedule. Her bus was due in twelve minutes. Twelve minutes standing alone at a dark bus stop would be a long time to think about who could be lurking in the shadows like haters from school or JoJo or maybe worse.

Lyla heard the sounds of distant traffic and an occasional whisper of music. She tapped her foot nervously, startled by the occasional unidentified noises emanating from the surrounding neighborhood.

A breeze picked up and sent an empty plastic cup tumbling against the curb. A crinkled fast-food wrapper skipped in her direction. Dried leaves danced in circles on their way down the pavement.

Her pulse accelerated. This is what it had come to. A few leaves blowing in the wind could trigger a panic attack. Her mouth went dry as she watched the leaves skating along the sidewalk.

She squinted at a pair of approaching headlights. She considered running but changed her mind when it occurred to her that the car looked familiar.

Is that Jack's car?

It came to a stop at the curb. When the window went down, she got her confirmation. It was Jack.

"I don't blame you for not answering my texts," he said.

Momentarily stunned, she stammered, "Uh, I uh... I turned off my phone while I was at work."

"I need to talk to you," he said in a pleading voice. "Can I give you a ride?"