Again, Shajuanna tapped her papers. “Show me where that is written.”
Another woman behind the counter with a cap of gray curls pulled at the registrar’s elbow. “Excuse me.” Moving a little away, they whispered together.
Cole caught only a few words. “Vicious animal” and “criminal” among them. Curious about the outcome, and hoping it might provide the opportunity she needed to meet Shajuanna, she didn’t move away from the booth.
When the registrar returned, her expression was stiff. “It’s more a policy. An unwritten policy. Which we abide by. I’m sorry.”
“Not as sorry as Bravo is going to be.” Shajuanna flung a handful of shiny straight black hair back over her shoulder as she glanced toward the parking lot. “See that? We brought a full camera crew and a producer to do a piece for my reality show, Shajuanna’s Swag-Grr. We’re on cable so I know you’ve heard of it.”
The women followed her gaze to where a crew of ten were streaming into the park carrying an array of bulky black cases as well as chairs and a folded-up tent.
Shajuanna looked back at the registrar. “This is a fund-raising event, isn’t it?”
The registrar blinked behind her glasses. “Yes, for our local county animal rescue shelters.”
“I’m all about animal shelters and rescue. My sweet baby Shujaa was a rescue.” She bent over to pat her pet on the head, snaring the eyes of men standing nearby who noticed how her top gaped away from her chest.
When she stood up again she turned away from the booth to address the curiosity seekers who had started to gather. “I’m a passionate advocate for animals other people would kick to the curb. So are my girls.”
She signaled to her bodyguard and he produced from behind him two young girls. One wore tiger-striped leggings and a chiffon top, the other was in jeans with a sleeveless white military vest. They both wore identical worshipful expressions as they gazed at their mother.
Shajuanna shifted them in front of her. “Leila and Miya are the ones who told me about your event and encouraged me to participate in order to provide you with PR. I’m supposed to be on a flight to L.A. But here I am, trying to help out your event for a good cause.” She looked back over her elegant shoulder at the registrar. “But if you don’t want your event to be on TV or the teams competing here today interviewed so that lots more people know about the good work you do … oh well.”
Shajuanna gathered up Shujaa’s leash. “Come on, baby. We’ll have to find an arena where shelter dogs are really welcome.”
“Wait a minute.” The registrar looked back in surprise at her adviser, who had spoken up.
The older woman stepped forward, her face bright pink beneath her gray curls. “Since you’re here to help promote our good cause, we should be able to see our way past this hiccup. We could list you as a celebrity guest. That way, you can do your show and our policy remains in place.”
“Just a minute.” Cole, who had been shamelessly eavesdropping, moved in closer. “Are you saying that her team’s score won’t count?”
The registrar eyed Cole with a cool glance. “Under these circumstances, no.”
Cole felt her temper building at the woman’s superior tone. “I don’t know squat about your polices but I do know that this person paid the entry fee and so her scores should count.”
“I’m sorry you feel that way, miss. But no.”
“Then expect a complaint to be filed with the Agility association.” Cole let her voice rise so that passersby could hear her. “Everyone knows Ms. Collier is a nationally ranked Agility handler. You accepted her qualifications. If you can make her scores ineligible based on some arbitrary rule that isn’t even written down, how do we entrants know you won’t do something unethical with our scores?”
The registrar pinned Cole with a hostile look as several of the other participants paused to listen in.
“Very well. Since Ms. Collier is a ranked handler, her scores will count. If she wants them to.”
“That’s what I thought.” Shajuanna looked over at her daughters with a triumphant smile. “What do I always say, girls?”
“No is just the opening of a ne-go-tiation,” they chorused together.
A cameraman, who had been crouching unseen with his lens aimed at the registration booth, stood up saying, “Got it, Shajuanna.”
Horrified by the realization that she had been caught on camera, Cole turned and hurried away. Dumb. Dumb. Her big mouth might just have blown her cover.
“Hey!”
Cole swung around.
Shajuanna had followed her, leaving girls and dog in the Wall’s care. “Why’d you do that? Get all up in the judge’s face about my participation?”