My breath's hitching in my throat as I lock the stall behind me and lean against the door. I don't think I've been this nervous about opening a piece of correspondence since getting my college acceptance letters. But I got into Columbia University that time, my top choice. So maybe this letter isn't so bad either.
My hands are shaking as I tear open the envelope. But all it contains is a hastily scribbled note on the back of a receipt.
Meet me at the bar this receipt is from at seven, if you want the proof. Come alone. - Charles
I flip the paper over automatically. The bar is one of those dark English pub style places that I've passed a few times on my way to and from work, but never went in. I don't think there's any way the bodyguard will let me go in there on my own. And even without
