“Sara Tate, right?” A stocky young man entered the office.

“That’s me,” she said. “And you are…”

“I’m Alexander Guff – your TPA.” Noticing the blank look on Sara’s face, he added, “Trial prep assistant.”

“Which means?”

“Which means I do whatever you need me to do. At the very least, I’m your secretary. But if you want to take me under your wing, I’m your assistant, your righthand man, your boy Friday, the Jimmy Olsen to your Superman, the Watson to your Holmes…”

“The Captain to my Tennille?”

“Yeah, something like that,” Guff said with a laugh. Guff was short and stocky, with bushy black hair that reminded Sara of a Brillo pad. His round face and pug nose were accentuated by his slouched posture, which made him look like he had a slight humpback. “I know what you’re thinking,” Guff said, stuffing his hands in his pockets. “No, I don’t have a hump – this is just the way I stand. I’m a nervous kid and this is an outward symptom of my internal anxieties. And just so you know, I also like to stuff my hands in my pockets. It helps me think.”

“Whatever makes you happy,” Sara said with a shrug.

“See, I can already tell I like you,” Guff said. “You see it, you say it, you let it rest. That’s a good sign. We’ll get along.”

“Are you always this blunt?” Sara asked.

“This is just the way I am. Sometimes people like it, sometimes I creep people out.”

“So that’s the nutshell, huh?” Sara asked, taking a seat at her desk. “I’m the new boss and you’re the witty assistant?”

“Do I look that obvious to you?” Guff asked, pulling out a chair and sitting down opposite her.

“I haven’t decided yet. Keep talking.” She wanted to ask him about the budget cuts, but she still wasn’t sure if she could trust him. And she wasn’t about to open up quite so fast. “How long have you lived in the city?” she added, trying to get more information.

“Only since I graduated from college, which makes a little over two years. Personally, I’d prefer living at home and saving some money, but I’m in the process of revolting against my suburban upbringing.”

“Oh, you are?” Sara asked doubtfully. “And you’re doing this how? By working in the DA’s office?”

“Of course not. I’m doing it by just existing. I mean, look at me. With this posture and this messy clump of hair, would you know that my father is a doctor? That my mom drives carpool?”

“Give me a break,” Sara said. “You sound just like my husband.”

“So the ring’s for real, huh?” Guff asked.

“Real for six years.” She tapped her platinum-and-gold wedding band against her desk.

“See, that’s just my luck,” Guff said. “All the good ones are taken. I can never meet someone who’s on her own, who isn’t a psycho, who doesn’t want to set fire to my futon, who-”

“Who digs suburban anarchists who think they’re much more rebellious than they are?”

Leaning back in his seat, Guff laughed.

“No offense, Guff, but the entire female population is not plotting against you.”

“Tell that to my Beatles collection and my missing stereo. I mean, my life is proof to the contrary.”

“Uh-oh, chronic paranoia. Does that mean you’re also a conspiracy nut?”

“Depends how you define nut. I’m not a fan of the overused conspiracies that Hollywood keeps recycling, but I do believe there are some unexplained phenomena we can’t answer. For example, take your typical deck of cards. If you add up the number of letters in the words ace, two, three, four, all the way up to jack, queen, and king, you get the number fifty-two – the same as the number of cards in every deck.”

Sara paused a moment. “So?”

“Secret code, baby. Believe the hype.” Sara shook her head, amused. “Don’t blame me – it’s all in the up-bringing.”

“With that, I actually agree.”

“Of course you do – we’re all the product of our families. That’s why you have to tell me about yours. Do you have any brothers or sisters? Are your parents crazy-insane like mine-”

“My parents were both killed during my first year of law school,” Sara interrupted, stopping Guff in mid-sentence. “They were on their way back from a day trip to Connecticut when they hit a patch of ice,” Sara explained. “Their car slid across the road and plowed into an oncoming van. They died instantly.”

“I’m really sorry. I didn’t mean to-”

“It’s okay,” Sara said, forcing confidence into her voice. “You couldn’t have known.”

“But I-”

“Guff, please don’t worry about it. Everyone on this planet has a memory they’d rather not recall. We just happened to hit mine early. Now let’s move on – we were having a good time.”

Noticing the embarrassed look in Guff’s eyes, Sara realized he was genuinely upset. It was clear he felt awful that he’d hurt her. That was all Sara needed to see. This was a good guy. Now she could open up. Taking a deep breath, she continued. “Any word around the office about that article in yesterday’s Times?”

“You saw that, huh?”

“It’s not good, is it?”

Guff paused. “Maybe you should go see Monaghan,” he said, referring to the district attorney.

“Don’t do that, Guff. If you know something, tell me.”

“All I know is the mayor’s trying to shrink the number of city employees by announcing across-the-board budget cuts for all city offices.”

“Does that mean I’m going to be fired?”

“I don’t know about you specifically, but when layoffs hit in this office, the last ones in are always the first ones out. And since the moment I walked in this morning, the office rumor mill’s been buzzing like crazy – according to a guy on the elevator, all the new hires are supposed to be automatically on notice.”

“No one’s told me a thing.”

Guff pointed to the metal tray on Sara’s desk. “That’s why they call it an in-box. I’m sorry, Sara.”

Sara snatched up the single sheet of paper and read through a memorandum addressed to the entire staff of the Manhattan District Attorney’s Office. According to the memo, the mayor’s recent announcement “will require us to reevaluate our current staff size. In keeping with the historical precedents of this office, decisions will be made proportionately among support staff, trial assistants, and attorneys. While these decisions will be difficult for all involved, we expect that this period of reorganization will not interfere with the day-to-day operations of this office.”

“I can’t believe this,” Sara said, her voice cracking. “I can’t lose this job.”

“Are you okay?” Guff asked.

“I’m fine,” she said, unconvincingly. “I just don’t understand it. Why now?”

“Are you kidding? We have an election coming up next year. The mayor’s no dummy – he knows big government is out. And by not favoring one department over another, he’ll look efficient, fair, and industrious all in a day’s work. It’s a political coup.”

Sara put her hands behind her neck, trying to massage away the tension. As she tried to organize her thoughts, her mind was reeling. This was even worse than she expected – a wrecking ball against her ego. Why is it happening again? she wondered. Why isn’t it ever easy? Feeling self-pity wash over her, Sara remained silent.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to ruin your day so quickly.”

For a long minute, Sara didn’t say a word. But when she realized that she couldn’t just sit there and sulk, self-pity slowly gave way to defiance. What would Jared do? she asked herself. No, don’t do it like that. This isn’t his. It’s yours. It’s yours and it’s not so bad, she thought. You’ve been through worse. Much worse. At least here, it’s not final. At least here you’re not alone. At least here you can use your brain. That’s what he said: You’re smart. You’re smarter than everyone. Looking up at Guff, Sara broke her silence. “When do you think Monaghan’s going to take action on the memo?”

“Probably a week or two. Why?”

“I want to know how much time I have.”