The Hating Season (Seasons #2) - K.A.Linde Page 0,29
pick her out by her long black-to-blue-tipped hair that was gently curled at the ends. She looked like she fit in at The New School with a sketchbook open on the table and another notebook opened that she was scribbling notes into. She had three half-finished cups of tea—because she didn’t drink coffee—and a small scone. I was sure it was vegan. She’d picked that up a few years ago after doing an art project on slaughterhouses.
I ordered a latte and then headed to her table.
“Hey, Tay,” I said, managing a smile as I plopped into the seat opposite her.
“Oh,” she said, looking up at me. “Hi, Anna.”
“How’s school going?”
Taylor made an indistinct noise. “I don’t know. It’s only the second week. We’ve just been going over the syllabus in every class.”
“Right. I remember those days. So… this is just… recreational?” I gestured to her notebooks.
She slammed the sketchbook closed and shoved it into her messenger bag. “It’s nothing.”
“Okay,” I said, frustrated. This was how it always went with Taylor.
“So, like, did Dad send you to check on me?” Taylor asked. Her ice-blue eyes mirrored mine even if she looked nothing like me otherwise.
“Yeah, so? I’m here.”
“I don’t need a babysitter.”
“That’s good because I have enough people to babysit and only one sister.”
She wrinkled her pert nose. “Oh yeah, your clients.”
It came out as a sneer. She wanted to offend me. So, I was purposely not offended.
“Yep. Always pretty busy at work.”
“I don’t know how you even work there.”
We’d had this conversation before. My dad hated my job, too. It had clearly rubbed off on Taylor. I didn’t need to justify it to them. But it would be nice for someone in my family to be proud of what I’d accomplished.
“Pretty easy. I’m good at cleaning up messes.”
“Just not in your own life,” Taylor quipped.
I nearly bit right back at her. But it was true. Look at Josh. We were in the midst of a divorce. Meanwhile, he was trying to drag me through the wringer because he didn’t want the divorce. And then there was Court, which I had no idea how to fix or if we even needed to be fixed. Plus, my family… which, as much as I’d tried, I had never been able to figure out.
I shrugged one shoulder. “Sure.”
“You know I don’t need you checking in on me.”
“Okay.”
“So, don’t bother,” Taylor said huffily.
“All right,” I said. “I do care though, Taylor. I’m not just here because of Dad.”
“This is supposed to be my new start,” Taylor said with a sigh. “I don’t need anything to make me different here.”
I glanced around the coffee shop. Everyone looked a little different here. A little less Hollywood, a little more New York City. Dark and haunted and tortured. Angsty, edgy, and artistic. The darkness to my light. I’d always fit in in LA. Maybe a little too well. But New York seemed to favor Taylor. I understood wanting to fit in.
Then my gaze snagged on the TV. A face appeared that I recognized—Jane Devney.
Court’s ex-girlfriend and her Upper East Side alias. Her real name was Janine Lehmann, and she was a dual German-French citizen who had stolen more money than God from banks all over the world. All with the force of her personality. She had conned Court for two years while they dated and stolen I didn’t even know how much money from his trust fund.
The very reason that I had been hired to help Court’s image.
I leaned forward to read what was scrolling across the bottom of the news channel.
Jane Devney, pseudonym to Janine Lehmann, refuses a plea deal and pleads not guilty to charges of grand larceny and fraud. A court date has been set for December 10.
“Fuck,” I spat, jumping to my feet.
“What?” Taylor asked. She turned to look at the television. “What’s going on?”
“I have to go.”
“Go? Where are you going?”
“Work,” I said, grasping my bag. “I have to get back uptown. We could meet up again… later.”
Taylor rolled her eyes. “Don’t bother. I know that work comes first.”
And it did. It had to.
“Maybe you’ll understand one day. Maybe you won’t,” I said with raised eyebrows. “Enjoy school. Keep your head down.”
“Whatever.”
I wished there were a way to make this better between us. But it certainly couldn’t happen over forced coffee. And it wouldn’t happen when I had to deal with Court first. He was the priority. No matter what was going on with Taylor.