ELENA
"There's a man in the waiting area," Maya said. She had come to my office door and closed it behind her, which was what she did when the information was specifically not for passing ears. "He doesn't have an appointment."
"Tell him to book one."
"Elena." Her voice was careful. "It's Brian."
I set down my pen.
I looked at Maya. Maya looked at me. Between us was a long history of exactly what Brian meant and what that name did to a room.
"How long has he been out there?" I said.
"About five minutes. He said he'd wait."
"Of course he did."
I sat still for a moment and took stock of myself. There was no dread, which surprised me. There was something closer to mild irritation, the kind you feel when a problem you thought you had resolved turns up at your office on a Tuesday.
"Se
