The FBI security detail showed up first. Supposedly, they would be there only a few weeks until everything calmed down. June couldn’t imagine anything calming down ever, especially now that Sam had thrown his hat back in the political ring; indeed, when the detail arrived, they informed them reporters and onlookers were already out on the street. “This is your fault,” June told Sam. “Why on earth would you want more publicity?” “Publicity is my lifeblood. You’d better get used to it.” “You’re lucky you’re good in bed.” Sam’s assistant arrived next, a young, black woman named Natalie. She was beautiful and had long tightly wound braids. She clung to Sam, crying. “I knew you were innocent,” she sobbed against his shoulder. “I never gave up hope.” He patted her back. “I knew you wouldn’t.” June sat at the counter, picking at the remnants of the salad she’d ordered, eyeing them.
