ADVERTISEMENT
stood by the railing, a cigar unlit between his fingers, looking out toward the East River.
I walked out, closing the heavy glass door behind me to keep the drafts out of the living room.
“Taylor is finishing a call with his broker,” I said.
“Taylor is always finishing a call,” Eric said, turning to face me.
He spun the silver ring on his pinky, his grin continue reading …
ADVERTISEMENT