5
ELENA’S HAND FLEW to her mouth and she let out a cry of relief.
Clad in yoga wear, Scarlett stood at the front of Elena’s shop, pressing her fingers against the glass while media people loudly complained behind her.
“Hey, we were here first,” yelled a guy in a baseball cap and torn t-shirt. “Get in line.”
“Back off,” Scarlett said, throwing up her flat palm. “I’m her attorney.”
“What’s she got to hide?” asked another.
Shoving the accordion security gate aside, Elena hurriedly unlocked the door.
“I’ve never been so glad to see you,” Elena said, pulling Scarlett inside and quickly locking the door behind her. She held up two fingers. Two minutes.
Or peace. Whatever.
“That’s a rabid bunch out there,” Scarlett said, brushing wisps of hair from her flushed face. “Completely loco. All
