“The subject’s pulse increased on contact,” he said.“Don’t write that.”

“Don’t start. I saw Marcie climb inside your Jeep.”“She needed a ride.”I adopted a hands-on-hips pose. “What kind of ride?”“Not that kind of ride,” he said slowly.”

“If we hooked up, he could write me ballads and stuff. You gotta admit, nothing's sexier than a guy who writes music.”

“Mr. Green Sweater looks normal, but his wingman looks hard-core bad boy,” said Vee. "Emits a certain don’t-mess-with-me signal. Tell me he doesn’t look like Dracula’s spawn. Tell me I’m imagining things.”

“Shh!” the guy beside me hissed again.“Blame him,” I told the guy, pointing at Patch. The guy craned his neck back. “Listen,” he said, facing me again. “If you don’t quiet down, I’ll get security.”“Fine, go get security. Tell them to take him away,” I said, again signaling Patch. “Tell them he wants to kill me.”“I want to kill you,” hissed the guy’s girlfriend,”

“Are you defending Marcie?”He shook his head. “I don’t need to. She handled herself. You, on the other hand…”I pointed at the door. “Out.”

“Citizen's arrest," he said. "Well, that, and Patch told me to.”