Romy was already there when Patrick arrived. With oversized sunglasses hiding her fading shiners, and a baseball cap covering her stitched-up scalp, she looked none the worse for wear. Patrick asked her how she was doing, and of course she told him fine. She was always “fine.” She said she’d be even better when the stitches came out tomorrow. Patrick rubbed his hands together. The old radiator running along the cinderblock wall only partially countered the afternoon chill. Neither Romy nor Zero seemed to feel it. Of course Zero, swathed head to toe as usual, would be the last to chill. “We heard from the Manassas attorneys,” he told them. “They want a meeting. Soon. I set it up for next Thursday, my office.” He glanced at Romy. “Can you make it?” “I’ll be there.” “My only regret is that I couldn’t add my own charges to the suit.” “On what grounds?”
