Jack
He waited while she made arrangements to meet a client the next afternoon. Why a client was calling her so late was strange, but that seemed to be a downfall of Anya’s job. It never quite stopped or respected certain boundaries.
“Sure,” she nodded. She had a hand folded into the elbow of the opposite arm holding up her phone. “Okay, that’s fine. There’s a bistro in town we can meet at. I have a couple of places I can show you. There’s also an old rec center that troubled youth are welcome to go to when they need a safe space. It might be a good place for you to leave some business cards or pamphlets.”
She was silent while the voice on the other end spouted off whatever was so damn important.
This call was going into minute eleven, and Jack was starting to get, well, an
