Brian Shea doesn’t offer her a seat, but she takes the one across from him anyway. The first thing he says, with a hint of cruelty in his tiny smile, is “You went to my house?” “Yes.” “Why would you do that?” “You didn’t keep your word.” “My what?” “Your word. You told me you would reach out to me by five o’clock. You didn’t.” The smile grows a little larger, a little crueler. “You’ve been around long enough, Mary Pat, to know that someone like you doesn’t make demands of someone like me.” “And you’ve been around long enough, Brian, to know I don’t give a fuck what you think I’ve been around
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