Page 23 of Wanted Beta

“You have no idea, and you’d probably rather continue not to have any idea. Now, let’s get moving. We’re burning daylight.”

I’ll take her word for it.

I’m in serious need of a sugar-fix, and I seriously don’t want a bowl of fruit and nuts for my breakfast today. I follow her into the hallway and watch her unlock the door.

“Oh, hey, if you’re going to be out later can I have a key?”

She looks back at me and presses her lips together. “When was the last time you lost your keys?”

Oh, great. I know she doesn’t remember I’m bad with keys, because she wasn’t living at home when I got a key for the house, but clearly Mom or MJ blabbed about it at some point.

I suppose losing six keys is kind of a lot.

It’s hard to remember where I’ve put stuff that I don’t usually need.

They’re probably lying around my bedroom somewhere.

I doubt Catherine wants to hear that.

“I’ve never lost my dorm room key.” I also haven’t been at college for very long.

She raises an eyebrow, then lets out a sigh. “If anything happens to this key, you tell me immediately so I can have the lock changed, okay? We live in the city, now, Beth. There are too many creeps and weirdoes out there to not worry about stuff like that.”

She’s not wrong. I should know, considering I dated at least one of them.

“Cross my heart, I’ll tell you. I won’t lose it, but I’ll tell you if I do.”

She takes a key off her chain and passes it to me.

I immediately put it into a zipped pocket of my purse.

This is where you live now, key. Don’t go missing on me.

The last thing I want to lose is Catherine’s trust.

I can keep one little key from getting lost.

How hard can that be?

Chapter Eight

Beth

Ilove the city. There’s always so much going on, and so many interesting people walking around. I might feel a little flat today, thanks to recent events and memories of the not-too distant past, but I can still appreciate the bustle and enjoy a bit of people-watching.

“Convenience store!” I tell Catherine, pointing the shop out before rushing toward it.

“There’s a candy store in the mall …” she calls after me.

Meh. The mall will take a while to get to, and I’m craving a fix of sugar now.

I step into the small store and pick up a nut and caramel filled chocolate bar, and a bottle of orange soda. My stomach rumbles a little and I find myself unwrapping the candy bar as I move to the back of the guy who’s already standing at the counter, talking to the clerk.

I tune into their conversation without really thinking about it.

The guy with the record bag slung over his shoulder has something in his hand.

I’m not sure what it is, but it’s making the clerk groan.

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