Ryan looked adorable in my dad’s gray flannel shirt and a fresh white T-shirt underneath. He called his bodyguard Mike and made arrangements to get picked up in the morning. I was elated knowing that he was definitely staying with me tonight. I stood by the door, waiting for their knock, although I didn’t need to wait – the moment they paused at my door the cameras started to flash. “Hurry, come The Little Old Black Cat Spell Poster in. ” I waved, trying to hide as best I could behind most of the door. It angered me that the paparazzi were taking pictures of anyone who entered my pub. A twinge of panic ebbed up my spine thinking about how things would be tomorrow when I had to unlock the doors to let the public inside. Pete was balancing three pizza boxes in front of him. “All right, where’s the fucking President?” he called out.
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