There’s voices in the background behind Miles. People chatting and laughing. He sounds like he’s at some kind of party. I didn’t mean to interrupt his evening.
God, I’m the worst. Why am I even calling him? What do I hope to gain?
“One minute, I can’t hear you,” Miles says. “Let me step out onto the balcony.” He must cover his phone with his hand, because his voice suddenly sounds very far away as he says, “If you’ll excuse me for a moment.”
I listen to the idle chatter of the people around him as he walks. I don’t catch more than a few words here and there, not enough to formulate anything meaningful, but from the language used, I can tell this must be some kind of donor meetup. High society types tend to have that same patronizing laugh.
When the noise suddenly clears, I know he’s st
