“My dad owns every law firm in this province,” the lawyer’s daughter laughed after ramming her brand-new Tesla into my old Subaru

again. Somebody else asked for another drink. The pianist, who had stopped mid-song, began to play once more with the careful hands of a man who didn’t want trouble but liked a paycheck. At the front doors, a valet in a red coat glanced at the stain on my jacket and then quickly away. His expression held something worse than judgment. Pity. I pushed continue reading …