Vronsky knew the key to her success wasn’t that she came from one of Greenwich’s oldest families, her surprisingly natural good looks, or her piles of family money—that was half the kids in Greenwich. What Beatrice had was information. No teenager can keep a secret and Bea was happy to be the one others confessed to. Beatrice never judged and how could she? For Bea had seen it all, heard more, and probably done worse herself. Her senior yearbook quote would surely read, “If you don’t have something nice to say about someone … then come find me at lunch.”

As promised, she was currently hanging out with two teen models, Daler and Rowney. They weren’t old enough to drive but were both six feet tall and weighed a combined 202 pounds. Both girls walked runways in fashion shows all over the globe and were in the city for Fashion Week. If Vronsky had had the pleasure of their introduction two days ago things would have gone differently. But tonight he barely gave either one a second glance.

“Bea, I need to talk to you.” Vronsky dutifully drank the shot of rye the bartender handed him. “Outside,” he said in a low voice, “alone.”

Beatrice peered out at her cousin through her mink eyelash extensions and nodded. Even though Bea was clearly wasted, she perked up like a shark at the promise of a bloody good story.

Minutes later the two of them were outside, their backs pressed to the wall, blowing cigarette smoke into the swirling snow. Bea listened to Vronsky’s tale of first seeing Anna at Grand Central, Steven’s infidelity, which had brought his sister into the city, and finally Vronsky’s current state of mind.

Beatrice flicked her butt into the street, pulled out her vape pen, and took a long drag. She turned to face her handsome young cousin, reaching out to brush some snow from his blond locks in an almost motherly way. “Weird, not at all what I was expecting,” she said with a wicked grin. “I can’t believe you never met Anna K. before tonight.”

“That’s all you have to say?” he said with impatience. “What do I need to know?”

“That all depends. Do you just want to fuck her? Or is this a more serious malady?” Beatrice was nothing if not direct.

Normally he would have laughed at his cousin’s crudeness, but he found himself unable to smile. “I’m afraid the malady could be serious.”

She pulled the lapels of her fur jacket up and shivered. “Let’s go back in, get drunk, and figure it out.”

Vronsky exhaled and watched his breath waft up into the snowy night.