My heart was pounding. I couldn’t let them catch me! I had to get Bitsie back to the studio—no matter what. I slung him under my arm like a football and picked up speed.
I ran to the left. Eight large Schuyler Dawn Delano fans formed a human wall and blocked my way.
I darted right. The saleslady was coming straight for me, all red in the face and screaming, “Hey, you! Stop! Stop!”
I swung around, hoping I could bolt down the escalator. No such luck. The old lady had read my mind. She’d wedged herself like a cork in the opening to the escalator. She was bent over with her hands on her knees, getting ready to charge. She was sweating and panting, but I knew she could still take me down easily.
I hesitated for a moment. But that was all she needed. The old lady pounced, slid across the floor and grabbed me by the ankle. “I got the girl!” she screamed. People in the crowd went crazy. It was as if Canada had just won the ten-thousand-meter relay or something. What could I do? I quit trying to drag her off with me and just gave up.
The saleslady did a few high fives with shoppers, then hobbled over to us on her broken slingbacks. “Good work, Mrs. Mancini,” she said—then turned to me.
I figured I was done for. But the saleslady just smiled, handed me a bag and said, “You forgot your bra, dear.”