Amber Taylor would fool those guys, but Biff convinced me I was being silly. He took me to a diner on the Upper East Side. I was sitting there thinking how much I loved New York when my dad walked in, followed by a couple of transport goons. Fuck. I didn’t say anything. Didn’t move. Biff stared down at the table. “Don’t hate me,” he whispered. “I don’t,” I said. I figured it was karma for the way I dumped Mouse. Another lesson learned: No matter what happened from here, I’d be better off alone. Always.
