"That scoffing sound."
"Yeah," the photographer chimed in. "As soon as we come out, he's gonna kick our asses."
It belatedly struck me that these guys weren't like the other reporters I'd been dealing with lately. Most ofthemhad been slick coastal types who knew their way around a story.
But these guys? They practically screamed amateur hour.
On impulse, I looked toward the stall and asked, "Who do you work for, anyway?"
After a long moment, the reporter muttered, "No one."
I gave a confused shake of my head. "So what are you? Freelance or something?"
"No." He cleared his throat. "I'm, uh, gonna start a blog."
I frowned. He wasgoingto start a blog? As in, he didn't even have one yet? I gave Flynn a sideways glance. If anything, he looked more irritated, not less.
From behind the door, the photographer called out, "And you owe my uncle a new camera."
His uncle?
Seriously?
I turned and gave the camera another look. It definitely wasn't the latest and greatest, because for one thing, it was an actual camera, as opposed to some sort of digital thingy that was so popular with the regular paparazzi.
Sadly, I'd seen more than enough of them to know the difference.
I turned back to the stall. "So, Camera Guy, who doyouwork for?"
Sounding distinctly peeved, he replied, "Myself."
I just had to ask, "So, areyougonna start a blog, too?"
"I might," he mumbled.
The other guy sputtered, "But you can't."
The photographer practically snorted, "Wanna bet?"
The reporter shot back, "But you're gonna work forme, remember?"
"Yeah, well…" The photographer hesitated. "…that was before you gothimall pissed off."
He didn't say who he meant, but it was beyond easy to guess. Slowly, I turned to Flynn, who hadn't said a single word during this whole exchange. Funny, hestilllooked pissed off.
But really, none of this was as bad as it had seemed just five minutes ago, when Flynn had strode into the restroom to find me shrinking away from two beefy guys in ill-fitting suits – one of whom had been clicking away on that camera.
I gave Flynn another pleading look. "C'mon, let's just leave, okay?" I summoned up a shaky smile. "No harm, no foul, right?"
He didn't smile back. "Wrong."
I made a sound of frustration. "But why?"
His jaw tightened. "You've gotta ask?"
Oh, so that's how it was?I straightened to my full height, which sadly, came barely to his shoulders. "Yes. I do." I crossed my arms. "Because it just seems to me that you're blowing this way out of proportion."
From the inside stall, the reporter called, "Yeah! And just so you know, she wouldn't tell us dick."
