Oliver slept in a carrier beside her.
“How is he?”
“Annoyingly energetic.”
“Good.”
Victoria reached into her bag.
Pulled out a folder.
Maya raised eyebrow.
“Careful.”
Victoria looked at it.
Then laughed.
“Okay.”
She placed it gently on table.
“No throwing.”
“What is it?”
“My agency’s compliance policy.”
Maya frowned.
“Why am I seeing this?”
“Because I rewrote our client-treatment standards.”
“You had client-treatment standards?”
“No.”
“That was the problem.”
Maya opened folder.
Harassment.
Recording without consent.
Threatening staff employment.
Expecting preferential service.
Interesting.
“Why?”
Victoria looked at Oliver.
“Because you were right.”
“That sounds painful.”
“Very.”
She smiled.
Then became serious.
“I built an agency where power was currency.”
“Not money.”
“Access.”
“Fear.”
“If somebody believed I could ruin them, they moved faster.”
“I rewarded that.”
“Then I met somebody I couldn't intimidate.”
Maya said:
“Because I owned company.”
Victoria shook her head.
“No.”
“At first I thought that too.”
She looked directly at Maya.
“Then I watched the video.”
Maya stiffened.
“You still had it?”
“Yes.”
“I almost deleted it.”
“I didn't.”
“Why?”
“Because I wanted to know what I actually did.”
Maya remembered another story: evidence and memory. She said nothing.
Victoria continued:
“The worst part wasn't when Richard called you founder.”
“The worst part was before.”
“When I said ‘people like you work for people like me.’”
Maya held her gaze.
“Yes.”
“I didn't mean Black people.”
Maya’s expression did not move.
Victoria exhaled.
“That sentence sounds terrible.”
“It does.”
“I meant service workers.”
“That isn't better.”
“I know.”
Victoria looked down.
“I kept wanting to explain that.”
“Then I realized the explanation just moved insult.”
Maya nodded once.
That was progress.
Victoria continued:
“I have treated assistants that way.”
“Drivers.”
“Receptionists.”
“Hotel staff.”