to keep from running.
In her rush to get away, she ran headlong into a middle-aged, bespectacled man, dressed in blue jeans and t-shirt.
“Oh. Sorry,” she blurted out.
The man placed his hand lightly on her shoulder to steady her. The moment he touched her, Jasmine felt calmer.
The stranger gave her a reassuring look. “Don’t worry,” he told her, “you’re all right.”
Jasmine turned to see if the man in black was still following her, only to find he had stopped in the middle of the intersection. The light had changed and, incredibly, with traffic whizzing by him in both directions, he remained stationary in the middle of the street, staring at the two of them. Jasmine turned back to the stranger. He was looking directly at the man in black. The two of them appeared to be engaged in a stand-off of some kind, each trying to stare the other down. Finally, the man in black sneered, then looked away, retreating back across the street.
Jasmine looked the stranger, who smiled kindly at her and patted her shoulder once more. He waited until the man in black disappeared from sight.
“Thank you,” said Jasmine.
“No trouble. My name’s Tom,” he said, offering his hand.
“Mine’s Jasmine,” she said, taking the man’s hand. “Well. Thank you again, Tom. I’d better get back to my friends.”
The man nodded and continued on his way. Jasmine satisfied herself that the man in black was gone and then hurried down the street to get back to her friends. What had just happened? Trembling all over, she felt as if she’d just averted a terrible accident.
Her friends were getting ready to enter the club when she caught up with them.
“Jazzy, did your friend find you?” Carla asked.
“What friend?”
“A guy stopped us to ask if we knew where you’d gone, an older fellow. He said he was a friend of yours.”
“What did he look like?” she asked, frowning. Her heart sped up again at the thought of the man in black.
“Oh, fiftyish maybe, salt-and-pepper hair, glasses. He didn’t give his name, but he looked harmless enough, so I told him.”
Her heart lurched. Carla had just described Tom, the man who had helped her moments ago. “Was he wearing jeans and t-shirt?”
“Yeah.”
The strange encounter left her feeling oddly vulnerable and more than a little creeped out.
“Everything okay?”
She considered telling Carla what had happened and decided not to. The whole thing sounded crazy, even to her. “Sure,” she said. “Let’s go inside. Time to celebrate, right?”
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