FLYNN'S POV
Harrison let himself in at seven with Korean food and something tucked under his arm that he set on my kitchen counter without comment before opening the containers.
I looked at the two cream envelopes.
"No," I said.
"You haven't opened them yet."
"I don't need to open them. I saw your schedule on my email"
Harrison pulled out two chopsticks and handed me one. "Sit down."
I sat. He served the food with the practiced efficiency of a man who had been eating in my kitchen for fifteen years and had stopped asking which container I wanted because he already knew.
I pulled the nearer envelope toward me.
Torres Contemporary. Annual fundraising gala. Black tie. The date was two weeks out.
I read the names listed alongside the event description. Vincent Torres. And below his,
