If Tomorrow Never Comes
they yelled from the car.
The manager looked up, frowning again.
“I have to go before my friends get kicked out of the McDonald’s parking lot,” Logan said, clearly torn. “What’s your number?”
“I don’t have one,” I said, suddenly regretting not having taken the phone that my father had bought me. I vowed to get one as soon as I got to Nashville until I could get a better phone.
Logan looked around desperately, then down at my paper bag and ran to the counter. “Do you have a pen?” he asked the manager, who just stood there, looking at him. “Man, I’m begging you. Give me a pen and I’ll give it right back.”