The Heir of New York

Part 4 - Snacks in New York

"I like this city," she says. "But I would like it more if I weren't always working when I was here."

"What?"

I take a bite of my bagel and frown at it. It's too dense, and I was hoping for more. The world moves around us as we sit at the small cafe table. Now and then, someone pulls out their phone and takes a picture of Natasha. She doesn't seem to notice. I put my hand up to my face to block the angle of people taking pictures. I'm hoping it looks natural, but know it will look more awkward when the pictures make their way online.

"Nothing," she says.

She pokes at her ahi salad, moving the pieces of tuna around. When she finds one that looks right, she spears it and places it in her mouth.

"Watch this," she says.

She pulls out her phone and holds it in her hand. It doesn't take long before two teenage girls—one wearing an I <3 NY T-shirt and the second wearing a Sex and the City T-shirt—recognize Natasha and pull out their phones to take a picture. When they do, Natasha turns and takes a picture of the two girls. The two girls mouths drop open in a silent gasp, and Natasha takes another picture, then turns her phone around to show them the image she took. The two girls cover their mouths and double over in a giggle fit and say "OMG!" before running away, laughing like they had been caught doing something they shouldn't have.

"They love that shit," Natasha says. "I don't know why, but they do. Especially tourists."

She uploads the picture with the phrase, awesome fans <3<3.

The whole event is foreign to me. Where I'm from, rich people are oil rich, and no one whips out their phone trying to get pictures of the VP of an oil company.

"How often are you here?" I ask.

She shrugs. "Depends."

She goes back to poking her tuna.

"So, what does Chantal think of you being here? For four years, I mean."

"She's okay with it. She likes to tell people I'm going to Columbia."

"I bet," she replies. "It increases your book value."

I summon up a laugh that sounds more like a snort, then flip the top on my bagel open so I can scrape out the lox and capers.

"This bagel isn't very good," I say. "It's too dense."

"There're better places. I'll take you next time I'm here."

Natasha places her fork down and picks up her phone. She starts to type something, then pauses.

"Do you want to come to my shoot tomorrow?"

I shrug. "Sure."

She goes back to typing on her phone, then places it down on the table. "Am I spending the night?"

"Probably not," I say. "The rest of the fraternity is arriving tonight. And I'm only a freshman. Who knows what shit they have planned."

"Oh, come on," she says. "That's not like you. What happened to your I-don't-give-a-shit attitude?"

"This's different," I say. "I'm nobody here."

Natasha reaches into her bag and pulls out a small blue box wrapped with a crisp white ribbon. In black text in the center of the box top says Tiffany & Co. She places it on the table and slides it across to me. She doesn't say anything. She just smiles.

I take the box from her, touching her hand when I do.

A gentle tug causes the ribbon to fall loose. Inside the box is a sterling silver business card holder. It also has the words Tiffany & Co. embossed in small type in the center.

"You're a business student. You'll need business cards."

She reaches over and squeezes my hand. I squeeze back.