Raymond carved his roast and kept talking, because men like Raymond were always in the middle of a speech. He spoke about his generation, real jobs, benefits, offices, the discipline required by the old ways, before everyone decided they could stay home in their pajamas and claim to be building something.
Trevor laughed. Kayla hid a smile behind her wineglass. Marjorie looked at her plate with the practiced neutrality of someone who had spent decades surviving other people’s cruelty by appearing not to hear it.
Leah set down her fork.
“I’m a cybersecurity consultant,” she said.
Raymond waved a hand. “Right. Computers, passwords, whatever. Sounds cute.”
Denise sighed. “Leah, don’t start.”
Don’t start.