Beware of Boys Read Free Page A

Charly didn’t listen to the police or the voice inside herself that told her that although she thought she was her old self, she wasn’t. Instead, she’d opted for another pair of shades, and tried to elude crowds by turning her head the other way. This hadn’t worked, and five-oh had ended up assigning a staff team to take her to her seat. Now here she was, flanked by giants who were outfitted in black shirts that had the word STAFF stretched across their bodybuilder physiques, and a senior citizen who was armed with a flashlight.
    The senior citizen pushed past Charly and the staff, making his way to the front row. He looked at Lola, then shook his head, clearly irritated that she was acting like the Garden had hired her to get the crowd in check. He stepped around Lola as if she weren’t there, and reached out his hand to a group who stood in front of the seats. “Tickets, please? Pass me your tickets so I can make sure you’re supposed to be sitting here,” he demanded, clicking on the flashlight like it was already dark in the arena, then shined the beam on their ticket stubs after they’d passed them to him.
    â€œWell?” the staff guy up front asked the man with the tickets.
    The senior citizen nodded. “They’re clear, but . . .” He scratched his head. “We’re going to have to relocate them for all the seats you need. The rest of the row’s full.”
    Even over all the noise, Charly could hear the group protest, and she couldn’t blame them. She wished someone would tell her she had to relocate after she’d bought her tickets and outfit. “That’s not necessary,” she yelled to the front, then tapped one of the security men on the shoulder, and repeated herself. “They bought their tickets just like I did. Why should they have to move?” she asked.
    Staff guy gave her a side eye, clearly not caring about what she thought. “Because we say they do. Security measure,” he explained after she looked at him like he was cuckoo. “You should’ve alerted the Garden that you were coming. Then we could’ve been prepared.” He turned away from her, then nodded to one of the other tree-trunk-looking men wearing a STAFF shirt, standing up front.
    The man returned the nod, then turned on the group in the first row. “Move down. We need four seats,” he boomed.
    â€œYeah. Four seats,” Lola parroted, bopping up and down in the two-hundred-dollar sneakers Charly had begged her not to buy because they were too close in color to her nutmeg complexion, making her look barefoot. They also didn’t look good with her naturally platinum-blond hair and made her look fluorescent in the yellow outfit she wore.
    â€œFour seats for what? There are only two of us,” Charly began, then was interrupted by a crackling static sound coming simultaneously from all the staff’s walkie-talkies.
    The man in front of her grabbed the sides of his radio, then held it to his ear, listening intently. He moved it to his mouth, pressed a button, then mumbled something unintelligible to Charly’s ears. Seconds later, another man dressed in similar shirt crossed the stage, making his way to them. He was just as huge as the rest, but, unlike the others, he wore a pleasant smile. “ Extreme Dream Team Charly St. James, right?” he asked, marrying the show and her name together as if that were how her birth certificate read. He was towering feet above them, but his infectious smile made him seem closer.
    Charly looked up and nodded. She returned his smile. “Yes. I’m Charly St. James—from The Extreme Dream Team .”
    â€œYes!” Lola yelled, jumping up and down. “That’s her. She’s Charly.”
    He squatted down, then waved his hand for his fellow staff brethren to escort her to him. He held out his hand, then shook hers. “You should’ve had your people contact