Page 9 of The Close-Up (Hollywood Renaissance 1.50)

“Not for backups.” He smiles, watching me stretched out on the blanket. I resist the temptation to fold my arms over my bare stomach. His eyes are on my face anyway, and he doesn’t creep me out like some of Cliff’s other friends do.

“Well.” He holds up the jacket. “Guess I better go.”

“What’s your name?” I blurt, sitting up on the blanket. It’s the first thing that came to mind that might keep him here a few minutes longer. I take a deep breath of the cooling night air, hoping to calm how crazily my heart is beating.

He freezes, turns, and walks over to where I sit on the blanket.

“You know my name,” he says, sliding his hands into his pockets. “It’s Nazareth. Naz.”

“Yeah, but some of the guys called you Armstrong and some said Strongarm.” I slant a curious glance up at him. “Which is it?”

“That’s kind of a long story.” That mouth God took extra time with pushes into a one-sided grin.

“Your name is a long story?”

“Well, the story behind why it’s both kind of is.”

Knowing Cliff will kill me first and then kill Naz for what I’m about to do, I pat the blanket beside me anyway. “I got a few minutes.”

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