The cameras start flashing. I rush through them toward the street. They let me through then turn their backs to the store, huddling together.

Which blocks Vincent's way.

The paparazzi.

I haven't been photographed by them for a long time. They only seem to want pictures of cute little kids, not the gangly pre-teen that I used to be.

What used to sort of scare me when I was little seems very comforting right now.

They are protecting me from Vincent.

I put my hand in front of my face as I hear Vincent yell out again. "Abby!"

I turn around and see that he’s working his way through the crowd.

The driver that I hired for the day is parked in the parking garage. There’s no time to call him.

I spy a black town car idling at the curb. I dart toward it and open the door.

As I'm getting in, I hear one of the camera men say, "That's not Abby, dude. It's just some chick in a wig pretending to be. They do that sometimes. Send out a fake. A decoy.”

I run my hand through my soft hair wondering how he could have mistaken it for a nasty wig.

I must need a deep conditioning.

The driver yells at me. “I think you’ve got the wrong car.”

Vincent breaks through the crowd and lunges toward the car as I slam the door shut and yell, "Go!"

Vincent grabs for the door handle just as I slam down the lock.

He stops and stares at me through the dark glass.

The driver is telling me to get out of his car. Telling me he's not going anywhere.

Vincent smirks again and lunges for the front passenger door.

I scream at the driver, “Go! Go! Go! Please just go!” I lean over the top of the passenger seat and slam down the lock.

The driver quickly pulls into traffic and says to me, "I got it. And in case you didn’t notice, we're going."

I didn't realize I was still screaming.

"So where are we going?" he asks. Then he starts rambling. "You know, I could get fired for this. Who was the suit? Did you steal something from the store? I'm not going to get in trouble for transporting a thief, am I?"

I take a deep breath and slip off my sunglasses.

"Whoa," he says under his breath.

"What?"

He shakes his head and talks to me in the mirror. "Nothing, but, um, I think now we are being chased by a cab."

I turn around and see a cab riding our ass. See Vincent in the front passenger seat, pointing toward me.

"Can you lose him?"

He rolls his eyes at me and starts talking to himself. "Can I lose him, she asks? Can I lose him?"

There’s a little space in traffic up ahead of us, so he stomps on the pedal, which causes me to be thrown back in my seat.

"Buckle up, buttercup," he says, as he cranks up the radio and yells over the noise. "This is just like in the movies. I'm like that dude from Trinity, what's his name?"

"Tommy Stevens," I say with a grin. I turn around and see the cab weaving in and out of traffic. "I think they’re still after us."

We had pulled away from them, but now we’re stuck at a light.

There are lots of people walking in front of us in the crosswalk. We can’t go anywhere.

The cab stops just two cars behind us.

Shit.

I run scenarios through my brain. What will I do if they wreck us? What will I do if he has a gun and starts shooting? What will I do if aliens crash down in front of us?

I’m ridiculous. I have no idea what I’m going to do.

I close my eyes and try to think of a plan.

“Um, I think the dude just got out of the cab,” the driver tells me.

“What?!” I say, my eyes opening as I rip off my seatbelt and turn to look out the back window.

Holy shit.

Vincent has gotten out of the cab in the middle of New York City traffic and is slowly walking toward me.

Not running like you would think he would be.

Or maybe everything just feels like it’s moving in slow motion.

“He’s getting closer!” I yell.

"Don't worry. I've got this,” the driver says. “The light is going to turn green just about . . . now.”

I’m jostled as the driver cuts across traffic, but my eyes never leave Vincent.

Our eyes are locked on each other even though I know he can’t possibly see me through the tinted glass.

He knows I’m looking straight at him. I can feel it.

He mouths Abby then slowly puts his index finger up to his lips and kisses it. Then his hand forms a gun and he shoots the kiss at me.

I want to scream.

I put my hand over my mouth and shudder instead.

Vincent just did what Cush did to me that day at his soccer tournament when he scored. I remember thinking how adorable it was. How he stopped in front of everyone and shot me a kiss. There were no photos of me that day in the batch he sent after he tried to kidnap me, but now I know that he was there then too.

He was everywhere.

I cross my arms in front of me, grab my shoulders, and give myself a hug.

“I’m sure we lost them,” the driver says, breaking my thoughts. “Even if he gets back in the cab, they will cut over at the next block. But I doubled back the way we came from.”

"Back to the store?"

"Yeah. I have to pick up my ride."

I realize I've been holding my breath and let it out in a whoosh.

"So what's the deal? You don't look like a thief. "

"I'm not a thief."

"So why's that guy after you?"

"Uh, bad breakup?" I say with a laugh.

But then I keep laughing. Uncontrollably laughing. Then I start laughing and crying at the same time. This guy's gonna think I'm a lunatic. Probably will turn me over to Vincent himself.

I pull myself together. "I'm sorry. Thanks for getting away from him. You're like my hero."

He shrugs his shoulders in an aw-shucks way. "It's okay. So, what do you do?"

"I'm a dancer," I say wondering where the hell that lie came from.

He gives me a lascivious grin. "Oh, really? Exotic?"

"No, I'm a Rockette."

He nods his head at me. "Damn, that's cool." He makes another turn and I can see we are back on the street in front of the store. I notice the cameras are gone, which means so is Mom.

I sigh with relief. Not only did I lose Vincent, Vincent lost Mom. He had to have been following her.

I get a call from Garrett.

"Are you okay?" he shouts.

"Yes. I think so."

"Your mother just called me in a panic. Call her. Then call me back."

I call her. "Mom!"

"The photographers told me that my decoy and the guy running after her out of the store yelling Abby didn't work. Tell me that wasn’t you. And please tell me the guy running after you wasn’t Vincent!"

"It was him, but it's okay. We lost him. I'm fine."

"We?"

I smile at my driver. "What's your name?"

"Allan," he says.

I say into the phone, "Allan just drove better than Tommy Stevens did in that car chase in Trinity."

Allan beams at me.

Mom laughs uncomfortably, so I say, "I gotta go. Be safe.”

I hang up and say to the driver, “Do you think you could take me down to that coffee shop?”

I'm a little nervous about going back in the store, just in case Vincent would think to go back there.

"Sure,” he says.

I open my wallet. I have no cash.

Shit. I never have cash. "I want to pay you something, but I don't have any cash."

He shakes his head. "You don't owe me anything. That was the most fun I've had in a long time. Unless, of course, you can get me a part in Tommy Stevens' next movie. That's the only thing that could top this." He pauses. "Speaking of that, you do kinda resemble Abby Johnston. Did that guy mistake you for her?"