In place of the short-haired blonde 12-year-old with the radiant smile and the thick Southern accent that I remembered (and had a crush on) stood a wo...an with long, wavy, dirty-blonde hair and a slightly less thick Southern accent. Her smile was much saucier than I remembered, and she grinned up at me as if my blush was the most entertaining thing she’d seen in a while. I guess she hadn’t forgotten that crush I used to have on her…. She had gotten rid of the old shirts and ripped jeans she used. As the light subsided, sporting a wide grin Natas almost laughed as he answered, “I am the choir master.”“Huh?” A loud sigh demonstrated Story’s exasperation.“Didn’t you ever go to Sunday School, Story?” Laughing again, Natas turned and walked toward the black Lincoln-Continentals.“Please don’t leave me here like this! Can’t I do something, anything, anything at all? I am a great journalist. Can’t I can do something for you?” This can’t be fucking real. Hell, he can’t be – no fucking way. l. More

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