At first, Olivia didn’t understand what was going on. And then she realized, and fury swept over her. Had Max really called on her, spontaneously, in front of this huge crowd, and the press, to talk about one of the most difficult experiences of her life? For what, to give him street cred, or something?

She shook her head at him. But instead of looking away, he put on that smiling, pleading look, like he did when he wanted the last dumpling at dim sum, or when he wanted to watch one of his comic book movies. And the worst part was, it had usually worked on her before. Did this man really fucking think his stupid puppy dog eyes would convince her to rip open a wound in front of a huge audience? She shook her head again and glared at him, and he seemed to finally get the picture.

“My office can definitely help you,” Max said to Jerome. “Someone will give you contact information before you leave, and we can get you connected with services that can help, like getting you hooked up with mentors who can help guide and advise you, and job-training programs. But one of the reasons we’re all here is that we need to do a lot more. Does anyone have any other great ideas for me about ways we should be helping Jerome and people like him?”

Olivia would be impressed with Max’s recovery right there if she hadn’t been so angry that it felt like actual smoke was coming out of her ears.

Was everyone in this whole room staring at her? She certainly felt like they were. They were staring at her like Max had. All these vultures from Max’s office and from the press who just wanted their own curiosity satisfied, who wanted her to talk and cry and talk some more so they could judge her afterward even more than they’d judged her before. All of these people who wanted her to humiliate herself even more than Max had just humiliated her. Angry tears sprang to her eyes, and she fought them back.

Someone nudged her, and she flinched.

“It’s just me,” Jamila said in a low voice. “Are you okay?”

She shook her head. She was many things right now, but “okay” was not one of them.

“Do you want to go?” Jamila asked.

God yes.

“I’ve never wanted anything more in my life,” Olivia said. “But I can’t get up and leave right now. The last thing I want are pictures in the newspaper of my ass as I walk out the door.”

She could feel the rumble of Jamila’s laughter, even if she couldn’t hear it.