Zane let out a long breath and rested his elbows on the counter. “You know how it is. These girls beg for it and beg for it and then when you’re like, ‘Okay, let’s fucking do this thing,’ they turn all frigid.”
Knightley forced another smile; it felt sharp across his face. “Really?”
“Especially these rich bitches up here,” Zane said, motioning to the neighborhood around them. “Think they’re better than you and do everything to make sure you know it.”
“Is that so?”
Zane nodded sagely, as if they had formed some sacred bond in the last two minutes. “Girls like that, they’re not worth it, man. Trust me, I know what I’m talking about.”
Knightley cocked his chin toward Zane’s black eye. “They’re bound to bash your face in, right?”
The barista laughed. “Right? Exactly.”
“And then a girl like that might tell her friend what happened. And her friend, well, he might get pissed off. Really pissed off. Maybe even more pissed off than the girl who gave you the black eye to begin with.”
Zane stared at him, his smug smile slowly dissolving into a thin line across his face.
Knightley casually poured a packet of sugar in his coffee and stirred it slowly. “You have to watch out for a friend like that. Because that friend, he could make your life a living hell. He could get you fired. Make sure you can’t find another job anywhere, in fact. Call every coffee shop and restaurant in the city. And then…”
Knightley put the lid back on his cup and took a slow sip. Zane watched, his face ashen and his one good eye wide.
“And then,” Knightley repeated, “a friend like that could fuck you up even worse.”
Zane finally blinked, leaning back a bit. “I don’t know what she said, man, but—”
“Hey, I’m just offering you some advice,” Knightley said, pulling a couple of dollars from his pocket and throwing them on the counter. “Trust me, I know what I’m talking about.”
Then he turned and left without another word.
Outside it was already a bit darker, the air a bit cooler. Knightley took a deep breath, releasing the tension from his muscles as he started walking back toward home.
He felt better already.
CHAPTER 12
Every year it seemed like Christmas arrived in New York just a little bit earlier, and this year was no exception. By Thanksgiving there were already elaborate decorations popping up on every corner, a seasonal soundtrack playing on repeat at Bergdorf’s, and incessant calls to Emma from Margo about ideas for the Woodhouses’ annual Christmas party. She also ended each conversation with more hints that Montgomery Knox might even be in attendance. Despite Knightley’s skepticism—he referred to him as “the ghost of Christmas past”—her sister assured her that the elusive restaurateur would be in the city very soon to help firm up plans with Ben. Emma didn’t hold her breath.
Besides, she had much bigger things to worry about. Namely the fact that it had been exactly ten days since the Zane incident, and she had yet to tell Nadine.
At first the issue had simply been timing. Obviously, this wasn’t news that you broke to someone over the phone. It was delicate; Emma had to tell her in person. But the week after karaoke was Thanksgiving, and while she and the rest of 83rdStreet celebrated around the Woodhouse dining table, Nadine flew home to Ohio. So, of course, Emma had to wait until she arrived back in New York. Unfortunately, Nadine was almost immediately busy with school and work and helping Mateo with some sort of hair competition, so by the time their shared class arrived on Thursday, Emma still hadn’t had an opportunity to tell her the truth.
Emma spent the long walk from Bloomingdale’s in Soho to campus rehearsing every possible explanation in her mind.
I’m so sorry to have to tell you this, Nadine, but Zane’s a sex fiend.
Remember that guy Zane? Let’s just never talk about him again.
Zane tried to take advantage of me, and I feel awful about it.
By the time she walked into the classroom, she had a script memorized. But then she saw Nadine already sitting in the center of the room, waving her over to the seat she had saved, and her mind went completely blank.
“God, I feel like I haven’t seen you in ages!” Nadine embraced her in a warm hug, then released her enough to look down at her feet. “Oh, I love those shoes! Are they new?”
Emma blinked, looking down at her Fendi boots. “No. They’re last season.”
Nadine nodded. “Mateo was trying to convince me to go to a sample sale in Soho this weekend, but—”
Professor Goddard cleared his throat, shooting a hard glare in their direction as he approached the lectern. Emma offered Nadine an apologetic smile and wrote on the top of her notebook:Chat after class?
