The First Taste(94)

“You could’ve taken the money then,” he points out.

I turn my head over my shoulder. “Would you have?”

“Obviously,” he says with a sniff. “But nah. Not really. Too fun to watch that clenched * squirm.”

My shoulders ease when I remember that Randy spoke when I couldn’t, and he knew exactly what to say. “Thanks.”

“We should’ve kicked his ass.”

“If only he’d come at us ten years ago.”

Randy blows out his cheeks with a sigh. “We’re getting so old, man. What happened to the days when we could just fly off the handle?”

Down the block, Pico leans out of the ice cream shop, checking that it’s all clear. I wave him over. Reggie put me in that position in front of my daughter. I have every right to be pissed, and there’s nothing I can do about it. “Those days are over.”





TWENTY-SIX



My Camaro isn’t made for city streets. Confined by Lexington Avenue traffic, even though it’s Saturday, the car rumbles and protests each time we start and stop. Bell bounces in her car seat and accidentally kicks the dash.

“Watch it,” I say.

“Why?” she asks.

“You’ll mark up the leather. Just stay still.”

“Why?”

“Because I said so.”

“Why?”

I hit the brakes a little too hard. “Because I hate driving in this f*cking city, and you’re distracting me.”

“There’s valet.”

“Valet,” I mutter. “Do you think I’m made of money?”

“There,” she screeches, pointing at a pair of reversing taillights. A Honda maneuvers away from the curb, and I drop my foot on the gas. The car in front of us brakes and starts to back in, but I’m already partway there. The guy lays on his horn.

“Close your eyes,” I tell Bell.

“Why?”

“Because I said so.”

She sighs but obeys. I stick my middle finger out the window and keep it there. He can have this spot over my dead body. After a few seconds of our standoff, a pedestrian yells at him for blaring the horn. His tires squeal as he hits the gas, and he flips the bird right back at me. I pull into the parking spot.

“You’re the one who didn’t want to take the train,” Bell points out.

I get out of the car and walk around to her side. She’s been talking about Aunt Sadie’s surprise baby shower for days, but she still knows to wait until I open her door. I let her out of the car seat and take her hand to lead her into Gramercy Park Hotel, then up to the terrace on the eighteenth floor that Nathan reserved for the afternoon.

I spot Nate right away. It isn’t hard in the explosion of floral arrangements and miniature pastries. A table at the entrance has the start of a gift pile, and I tell Bell to add ours.

Nathan’s brows are gathered as a woman in a suit taps her clipboard, showing him something. He scratches his forehead and glances up at us.

“Andrew,” he says, desperately motioning me over. “You’ve got to help me, man. They ran out of raspberry macaroons. Sadie craves raspberry everything right now.”

“Dude, she’s not going to give a rat’s ass.” I check the sheet of paper filled with pictures of desserts and their names. I point to a frosted cupcake that’s topped with chocolate shavings. “You got these?” I ask the woman.

“Yes, sir.”

Nathan looks too, nodding. “Everyone likes chocolate. Those’ll be fine.” He mops his brow as she walks away. “This is way harder than it looks.”

“When does Sadie get here?”

He checks his watch. “Ten minutes? Jill told her they were going for lunch at the restaurant downstairs.”

“Then what?” I ask.

“That was the hotel’s event planner, and she has some games and stuff set up. Jill takes over when they get here. Then we’ve got to go. This is like, chicks only.”

“No shit,” I say. “Husbands don’t typically plan baby showers.”

“I know.” He half-smiles, somehow proud of this, and looks at me sidelong. “Looking forward to seeing Amelia?”

I look out at the buildings surrounding the patio. “She coming?”

“Yeah. She didn’t tell you?”

It’s been a week since Amelia left me in the middle of the flea market. Since Shana dropped into my life like a bomb, and Amelia wasn’t around to help pick up the pieces. “Nope.”

“Ah. How about we go next door and grab a beer when they get here?” Nathan asks. “You can tell me all about it.”

Sometimes, Nathan’s all-knowingness is helpful, and other times not. I sigh and take a good look around the room at tiny teacups, satin bows, and diaper tower centerpieces. “Uh, yeah. I think I’ll actually head over now.” The prospect of spilling my complicated feelings about Amelia to Nathan appeals to me slightly more than running into her. “I’ll meet you there.”

“Are you sure? Don’t you want to say hi to Sadie?”

“I’ll catch her later.” I check on Bell. She’s already chatting up the only other child in the room, who looks a couple years older than her, but who politely listens to Bell ramble on about God knows what. “Poor girl,” I mutter.