Chapter 6: The Boutique

The tailor's shop on Newbury Street had three mirrors, and Sabine found all three of them in the same second.

"There you are," she said, loud enough for the whole street to hear.

It was Saturday morning. I was standing on a platform in half a suit with pins in the sleeves.

Marin sat in an armchair with a glass of water, advising the tailor on the lapels.

The tailor stepped back with her pins in her mouth.

Sabine came through the door with her mother behind her. Neither had an appointment.

Rex had not come. Sabine's left eye had a bruise on the lid that her makeup didn't hide, and I didn't ask whose it was.

"You didn't answer my calls," she said.

"I blocked your number," I said. "It's a normal thing to do."

"Is this her?" Sabine looked at Marin. "Is this the woman you're parading in front of everyone?"

"I'm Marin," Marin said. "We met last night, in the elevator. You were going down."

A woman in the shop took out her phone.

I saw another one lift two feet to my left. Then a girl at the front window, filming through the glass.

"You're a gold digger," Sabine said, and her voice rose. "You saw an easy man with money and you went for him."

"I'm not sure about easy," Marin said.

"My father says you're a vulture. You buy up people's debts so you can pick their bones."

"That's an accurate description of my business."

Sabine blinked. She had expected a fight and had been handed agreement.

"Your father owes me nine million dollars," Marin said. "He signed the notes on Wednesday, with Weston's lawyer standing next to him."

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