*THIS BOOK IS DRAMATIZED AND EXAGGERATED TO MAKE IT A MORE INTERESTING READ*
Follow the story of a Betty spaghetti doll that experiences overnight fame and the challenges of being a pop icon. His life changes dramatically; how will he cope with his...
Kid Ritz places his cup down, drawing my attention to the clink of the glass hitting the table. I look away momentarily, immediately focusing back on the dark parking lot.
He's gone. I look at Kid Ritz, seeing his eyes still trained on Dom.
Ven: "Where is he? I just saw him."
Kid Ritz: "He's peeking behind the car."
Anger wells up within me, making me leave the table. I move to go outside, but Kid Ritz grabs my wrist.
Kid Ritz: "Don't... it'll just encourage him."
I breathe heavily, trying to keep my emotions under control. I'm so unbelievably mad, beyond angry that he's pulling this BS again.
I'm so upset I can't take it. I stare at a potted plant, wishing it was Dom's head. The pot explodes, shards of the terracotta shattering across the floor. Along with the other customers in the restaurant, I jump back.
My anger turns to shock... surprised that just happened. I grip the back of my chair, breathing heavily. The waiter comes over, concerned about the noise.
Waiter: "Que pasa?"
Kid Ritz: "No se... creo que se cayó la olla."
The waiter nods, pulling a broom propped against the wall to clean up the mess. I watch, bewildered. Kid Ritz grabs my hand, willing me to look at him. His eyes are wide, looking at me with many different emotions.
Kid Ritz: "You alright? I don't see him anymore."
I look out the window... seeing that he's still gone.
Ven: "Yeah... I don't know what to say."
Kid Ritz sighs, sitting me down gently. He kisses my cheek, rubbing my shoulder as he does so.
Kid Ritz: "Let's just eat. I don't want him ruining our night."
I nod, feeling beyond sick. I can't believe I made a pot explode... it wasn't even on purpose.
I sip my horchata, the sugar taking my mind off the ordeal. The waiter comes out with our food, serving me a plate with delicious-looking food.
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I eat slowly, my hands shaking more than they usually do from how nervous I am.
Kid Ritz eats in the same manner, finishing relatively quickly. The waiter comes over, carrying a small basket full of pastries I've never seen before.
Waiter: "Aquí son tus sopaipillas."
Kid Ritz: "Gracias por todo, Carlos."
Waiter: "Claro que si, whey. Apruebo a tu novio."
Kid Ritz blushes, sipping his horchata in an attempt to hide his blush. Carlos pats his shoulder and walks away.
