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The European problem becomes three problems.

Three becomes six.

A conference call becomes a video conference.

Legal joins.

Finance joins.

Then Munich joins.

By the time I look at the clock, nearly two hours have disappeared.

Layla.

The thought arrives automatically.

I reach for my phone.

Then someone asks me a question involving enough money to purchase a small Caribbean nation, and I'm dragged back into the meeting.

Myrna watches the conference room doors close.

Then she looks toward my office. Toward Layla.

And makes a decision I won't know about until it's too fucking late.I watch it all play out days later from surveillance cameras in the office.Layla is alone at the secondary worktable in my office when Myrna walks in.

Laptop open.

Documents spread around her.

She looks up.

“Hey.”

Myrna doesn't return the greeting. Instead, she closes the door. Layla's reporter instincts immediately engage.

I know they would.

“What can I do for you?”

Myrna folds her hands in front of herself.

“You really don't know, do you?”

Layla's expression changes.

“Know what?”

Myrna gives a small laugh.

Not kind.

“God. He really is good.”

Layla closes her laptop. Slowly.

“If you have something to say, Myrna, say it.”