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through the food court. Let’s go.”
    “Wait,” you say, not moving. “What’s happening? Why are they shooting at us?”
    “Because you told your boyfriend I’d be here.”
    “I didn’t, though! I didn’t say anything about you! I said I made the phone myself. I swear I didn’t say one thing about you.”
    Kim looks heartbroken. “Well, that’s worse. That means your boyfriend just really doesn’t trust you, like, at all. Come on, you’re coming with me now. Let’s go.”
    “You’re kidnapping me?”
    “What?” Kim looks at you like you’re completely insane. “I’m not kidnapping you. I’m saving you.”
    “But my boyfriend . . .” you say, looking back in the direction of the store.
    “Your boyfriend is complete garbage and he’s shooting at you, and I’m sorry, but you have to come with me now. Let’s GO!” Kim grabs your arm and pulls you along, leading you away from the loading dock.
    “Stay right behind me,” she says, and you are too much in shock to do anything else. She shoves open the side exit door and leaps across the hallway, pulling you along behind her, through a door marked EMPLOYEES ONLY . You find yourself in the Taco Bell kitchen. Stainless-steel surfaces everywhere, hot ovens, a sweet, spicy smell filling the air almost oppressively, and some extremely confused-looking teenagers staring at you and Kim.
    Kim has a pained look on her face as she continues walking. “Ohhh, I love Taco Bell! I wish we had time to grab something—I’m starving! Cool Ranch Doritos Locos Tacossss!” she exclaims sadly, reaching out toward a tray of empty taco shells as she passes, as though she’s being forcibly taken away from the love of her life.
    Kim jumps over the front counter, and you follow right behind her, crossing the food court, rushing out through the doors, racing across the courtyard past the water fountain with the colored lights and around the corner, into an alley. There’s a jet-black Range Rover waiting there, and Kim opens the back doorand pushes you inside and jumps in after you and yells “GO!” The truck immediately peels off, jumping down off the sidewalk, screeching out across the oncoming traffic, and away into the night.
    YOU GET JOUNCED AROUND in the backseat as the SUV quickly screams across two lanes of traffic, brakes squealing and horns honking in its wake, and just barely makes an exit at the last minute. The car whips around the cloverleaf ramp, throwing you against the door. Once you’re on the highway, the driver floors it and the car takes off at top speed.
    “Anyone following us?” Kim asks the driver.
    “We lost them,” a voice, female, replies.
    “Is the phone in here?” Kim asks, tugging at your bag.
    “Oh, yeah, here.” You start to remove the backpack from your shoulder and then realize that in your panic about your rapidly approaching death when the SUV had started moving, you had pulled the seat belt down and locked it while you were still wearing the bag. Which makes removing the bag impossible. Further panic sets in.
    “Here, let me—” Kim starts.
    “I got it! I can do it!” you say, your voice sounding more upset and worried than you intended. You stop trying to untangle yourself and calmly undo the safety belt and slide it back, freeing the straps of the bag, which you hand to Kim. You lock yourself back in. Your hands are shaking.
    “Thanks,” Kim says, eyeing you carefully.
    This is mortifying. You’re sitting in an SUV next to Kim Kardashian and acting like an idiot who’s never been in a car before. Kim searches around inside your bag, pulling out random, irrelevant things. Your laptop cord. Your wallet. A half-empty Dasani. Abag of gummy worms that you didn’t realize was still in there. A magazine featuring an article you’ve been meaning to read about “The Top 10 Things You’re Doing That Turn Him Off.”
    “Hmm, should I dump this whole thing out or should I . . . ?” Kim wonders aloud.
    “Here,