Page 51 of Strictly Business
Chapter Twenty-Five
FINN
“WHAT’S YOUR PROBLEM?” KNOX has never been one to beat around the bush. “It’s pretty obvious something’s on your mind.”
“Nope, all good here.”
He studies me for a moment before turning back to the gelato cup in his hands. For someone who told me they hated gelato not that long ago, he sure eats the hell out of some peanut butter gelato nowadays. Gelato in the park has become our Monday afternoon tradition, but once winter comes, we’re going to need to find a new one.
“How’d your English test go today?” From the shoving of another bite in his mouth, I assume not so well. “Wanna talk about it?”
“Nope, all good here.”
I roll my eyes, ever the smartass. “I thought you said you understood it.”
“Yeah, I mean, I did, but then she was asking about what we thought the author was trying to say and relate it to real-world problems.”
“Fitzgerald was trying to expose the illusion of the American dream and the dangers of holding onto the past.”
“Well, how in the hell am I supposed to know that?”
“Just eat your gelato.”
Coming to the fork just through Greywacke Arch, we walk the rest of the way in a comfortable silence, only to be broken as we step onto Fifth Avenue. “You ready to talk about it yet?” Knox asks tossing the empty cup into the trash can.
“Whatever problems I have going on in my life shouldn’t be pushed onto you.”
“But, I’m supposed to be your little brother, right? Brothers tell each other what’s bothering them.”
Dammit. Got me there.
“I promise, it’s boring.”
“Can’t be too boring if it’s got you this deep.” Knox shrugs off his school jacket now that we’ve left the cover of the trees. “Is it a girl?”
“Want a hot dog?” I ask approaching the steps of the Met, where a line of street vendors wait to feed hungry tourists who are taking in the sights.
“It is a girl!” Ignoring him, I roll my eyes and motion the vendor to give us two hot dogs. “I never thought I’d see the day Finn Sheffield has girl trouble.”
“Shut up, Knox,” I mumble handing over a twenty. “Keep the change,” I say, taking my hot dog and continuing down Fifth Ave. We should turn down 86th Street to get to the train, but I get the distinct feeling he isn’t ready to part ways yet.
“I thought you didn’t do relationships.”
“I do relationships, I just haven’t been in one in a while… The last one was a real doozy.” And part of the reason I had to ask Nina for help in the first place.
“So, what happened — this girl shoot you down or something?”
“Or something. Look, I really shouldn’t be talking to you about this.”
“I don’t see the problem,” Knox shrugs. “You’re teaching me valuable life lessons to help me in the future when I have my own girl problems.”
“Can’t have girl problems if you don’t put yourself out there, Knoxy-boy.”
“Shut up, Finnely. We’re not talking about me; we’re talking about you.”
Expletives roll off my tongue when a guy rams into me from the other side of the sidewalk spreading the hot dog across my shirt — red, yellow, and green stain the crisp white linen. Are you fucking kidding me? That is going to be impossible to get out, and I just bought this fucking shirt. The smirk in his voice makes my blood boil, “You should watch where you’re going next time.” Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me. Looking up from my shirt, I find it harder to contain my newfound anger.
“Dude, what the fuck?” Knox looks between us. “You ran into him!”