And then, as if this weren't bad enough, the cameraman jumped up to follow along behind us –withhis camera.
I picked up the pace, ignoring all of them, even as the redhead scoffed, "Flanna, what a joke."
Yeah. It was.
And bigger than she knew.
When I strode into the restroom, the two women followed after me, leaving the cameraman to wait outside – or if I wasreallylucky, to take the hint and leave the restaurant entirely.
As far as the women, I wasn't afraid of them, not really. They didn't seem violent so much as determined to have their say.
They never got the chance.
Before either of them could get out a single word, the main restroom door flew open and the camera guy barreled in and made a beeline for the nearest stall.
I watched in stunned confusion as he dove into it and slammed the door behind him. When I heard the lock slide into place, I shared a confused look with the two women.
What the heck?
Our confusion lasted only a moment before someone else barreled in after him. Andwhowas that someone else?
Flynn Archer.
Of course.