As before, a staccato burst of lights hit with force. His arm around a red-haired pregnant woman, Hunz lowered his head and plunged into the sea of reporters. “This isn’t going to deceive anyone,” Sydney said. “Keep your head down and keep moving,” Hunz shouted over the din. She did. She was hunched over a well-placed pillow and outfitted with dark glasses and a green scarf, compliments of the studio prop department. A red wig flared with every camera flash. Hunz straight-armed everyone in his way like a running back headed for the end zone with a faux Cheryl tucked securely under his arm as the ball. A black limousine split the crowd, its horn blaring, warning foolhardy reporters that they’d better think twice about challenging a couple of tons of metal to a head-on competition. The back door opened just as Hunz and Sydney reached it. Hunz assisted his charge into the limo, but instead of following her, he turned to face the stormy tide. Looking like Moses parting the Red Sea, Hunz raised both hands over his head.
