I ran into the Staples Centre car lot to find Tess had gotten out of her sedan and was pacing back and forth in the rain with her arms folded across her chest. She would have been immediately visible in a crowd twice the size. Her crazy, curly Afro was a dead giveaway. She was half Egyptian, and her golden skin shone in the flat afternoon light. When I reached her, Tess pinned me under suspicious eyes the color of an unsettled ocean, blue one minute, green the next.
“What the…?” she gasped. Tess’ horror was understandable. I looked like a drowned rat. My hair had teased free of its twist and was plastered to my skin, and my clothes…Urgh. My clothes. My jeans were streaked black, and my white cotton shirt was filthy and ripped, destroyed beyond repair. There were probably a few smudges of blood underneath all that dirt and oil, but after that light coming off the guy’s hands my eyes didn’t seem to be processing color properly.
I hooked Tess by the arm and pulled her backwards through the crowds of people gathering to watch the fire catch along the length of Figueroa. “Told you.”