A/N: I'm apologizing ahead of time for the extremely bad writing in this chapter. I decided to make my summer useful and take a psychology class at the local community college this year. Unfortunately, it takes up a lot of time, hence, why I haven't updated in ages. Updates from here on out will not take as long as they previously did.
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“More, Miss Chelsea?” our waiter asked as he held the wine bottle in his right hand and extended his left towards my half-filled glass.
“No thank you, Robert. I’m fine,” I replied with a gentle smile.
“Aw, Miss Chelsea can’t handle her wine,” Amy mocked from across the table, before grabbing her wine glass and giving it to the Robert for a refill.
“To the tippy top, Roberto,” she ordered.
“His name is Robert, not Roberto,” I corrected. Her icy blue eyes glared at me, before flickering at Robert, who looked unsure if he should agree with me or dismiss Amy’s error.
Being the sensible man he is, Robert, filled Amy’s glass like she ordered, set the wine bottle in the ice bucket, and excused himself without uttering another word.
Amy chuckled as she grabbed her refilled glass of wine.
“What’s so funny?” Ethan asked as he continued to read through the menu.
“I loved how he just ran away like a little roach,” she answered analyzing her glass before raising it to her rosy lips.
“Roach?” I asked, although I already knew what she meant. I just had to hear her say it.
“Yes, dear. A roach just like everyone else that can’t afford fine dining,” she replied as she cleaned her lips carefully with her linen napkin.
“Amy!” Ethan hissed.
“What? It’s true. Anyone that isn’t in the top 1% isn’t worth much,” she replied without empathy.
“They still have value,” I assured and Ethan nodded in agreement.
Amy smiled at us like if we were young children, who still thought Santa Claus was real.
“Your right, they do have value. I mean who else would clean the toilets,” she said with a small smirk imprinted on her face.
Anyone who wasn’t in the top 1% was not useless. They attributed to the solid foundation our families businesses stood on. Without the middle class and working class, the top half of the 1% would cease to exist. They had importance, even if Amy thought they didn’t.
A soft hand touching my own pulled me out of my inner ranting.
“Just let it go,” Ethan whispered. He had noticed my struggle. I smiled agreeing to his request. Of course, giving up our previous argument didn’t mean I couldn’t have my fun with Amy.
“You know we all have a past Amy,” I began. Her smile dropped; she knew what I was referencing to. Her mind must have unlocked the memories of so many nights ago, when Danielle Blackwell was found dead in the woods.
“I don’t think it’s fair to bring it up, do you?”
“No, you’re right. Things are better left unsaid,” she agreed.
Amy avoided any eye contact with me for the rest of the night.
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Manhattan’s busy night traffic roared loudly next to us as Ethan walked me home from our dinner with Amy. She had taken a cab—mostly to avoid talking to me—after we left the restaurant. Of course, I didn’t mind, I greatly appreciated the time I spent alone with Ethan.
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Monsters of Manhattan
Ficção AdolescentePeople aren't called monsters because they paint rainbows and snowflakes. No, they're called monsters because they have a limitless ambition to achieve what they want and maintain what they have, and in Manhattan, what you want and what you have mig...
