Michael
Whatever they’re queuing for, it looks like the movie’s a hit. I make my way along the line of people, but it seems an unlikely place to find Charlotte. Teenage boys, some wearing geek costumes, chatter excitedly about the latest superhero. Plunging through the crowd, I ignore the shouts and insults of the offended.
In the foyer, crowds heave. It’s Friday night and, just like the previous two cinemas, it’s packed.
I push to the front, ignoring outraged catcalls and insults. “Have you seen a group of three women? Two red-heads, one brunette.”
A pair of thick-rimmed spectacles backed by a blue-rinse fixes on me and a long finger points behind me. “Get to the back of the queue, Bud,” she growls.
“I’m serious. It’s important. An emergency.”
My tone penetrates. The spectacles come
