Page 13 of Thirsty Bodyguard Summer

“It isn’t moving like a breakfast line.”

She slid out of the booth. She checked the windows, then focused on the woman who’d taken my picture. The woman stared at her phone, then glanced toward me.

More phones rose outside.

The sound in the restaurant rose by degrees. Chairs scraped. Someone near the door shouted, “Shane Hart!” A girl squealed, and the people behind her pushed forward to see through the glass.

I wiped my mouth and stood.

Cassidy turned immediately. “Sit down.”

“I can wave, tell them I’m eating, and ask them to give everyone room.”

“If they see you, they’ll press toward you.”

“They’re fans, not rioters.”

“I know.” She moved between me and the aisle. “That’s why I don’t want anyone knocked down.”

Cassidy pulled out her phone and angled the screen toward me.

A public post showed a blurry photograph of me entering from the back lane. Beneath it, a larger fan account had written:

Shane Hart at The Salty Spoon until nine. Informal breakfast hello before soundcheck. Come say hi.

“I didn’t announce that,” I said.

“I know.”

A hard knock struck the front window. Two women waved when I turned. Behind them, more people crossed from the boardwalk toward the restaurant.

The hostess held both hands up. “Please step back and give everyone room!” No one outside could hear her.

“I can calm them down,” I said.

Cassidy stepped close enough that her chest nearly brushed mine. “The second you become visible, every person outside will move toward this booth. Look at the entrance.”

A little boy stood pinned between his mother and the hostess stand. The older man I’d seen outside had one hand braced against the doorframe while people squeezed past him. Our server carried a full coffee carafe along the aisle, but a woman backing up with her phone nearly collided with her.

“What do you need me to do?” I asked.

Cassidy gave one small nod.

“Stay on my left. Keep moving. Don’t stop for pictures, even if someone asks nicely.”

“I can do that.”

“I know you can.”

Cassidy spoke into her earpiece. “We’re using the kitchen exit now. Bring the vehicle to the service lane.”

Cassidy turned to the server. “We need the door.”

“It’s clear. Follow me.”

The server shoved open the swinging panel. Cassidy caught my forearm and pulled me into motion.

A teenage girl stepped into the aisle ahead of us. “Shane, can I please get one selfie?”