Basement. Together they pushed the cart beneath the covered walkway. The man was 24, lean, with a Crown Bridge audiovisual badge clipped to his jacket. Marcus Reed. One of the equipment cases had cracked near the corner.
Marcus noticed Maya looking at it. Somebody dropped a lighting stand on it. Expensive? More than my car. You have a car?
No. For the first time in two days, Maya laughed. It came out unexpectedly. Marcus smiled too. Then his expression changed.
I know who you are. The laughter disappeared. Maya looked straight ahead. Most people do now. That's not what I meant.
They reached the loading door. Marcus swiped his badge. The lock clicked. Inside fluorescent lights hummed above concrete walls and racks of cables. Maya helped him push the cart through.
Marcus closed the door behind them. I was there. Maya stopped. He swallowed. The courtyard.
She recognized him then. The coffee cup. The young man near the fountain who had looked directly at Chase's raised fist. You spoke after my father showed up. Marcus nodded.
I did. But not before. No. No. The word landed between them.
Maya could have made him explain himself. Instead, she waited. Marcus rubbed rain from his glasses. My tuition assistance comes through this department. My job comes through this department.
What does that have to do with Ryan? Whitmore Development gave the media school $3 million two years ago. New control room. New cameras. New internship fund.
Maya said nothing. Marcus continued. Ryan's family doesn't technically employ me. But everybody knows which names get returned calls. He stared at the floor.
My mother lost her apartment last spring. I'm helping with rent. If I lose this job, I probably don't finish here. Maya looked at him. The anger was still there.
So was something else. Recognition. Not forgiveness. Recognition. She knew what fear did when money was attached to it.
"I was scared," Marcus said. "You should have been." His eyes lifted. He seemed surprised by the answer. Maya continued.
"Fear doesn't make you worthless." Marcus stared at her. "But what you do next matters." The loading room went quiet except for rain ticking against a small high window. Marcus nodded slowly.
I've been thinking about that since yesterday. He walked to a workbench and set down his badge. "There's somebody you should meet." Maya's guard returned. Who?
"Evelyn Brooks." "I know Evelyn." You know Ruth's kitchen, Evelyn. Maya frowned. Marcus gave a humorless smile.
That's not the same woman Crown Bridge knows. Twenty minutes later, they were descending a narrow staircase beneath the university library. The air changed as they went down. Cooler. Dustier.
Older. The polished stone and bright glass of modern Crown Bridge disappeared above them. At the bottom sat a heavy gray door marked university archives. Authorized access. Marcus knocked twice.
Nothing. Then three times. A lock clicked. Evelyn Brooks opened the door. She wore a burgundy cardigan and thin reading glasses.