SHAI: Where are you right now?
JARED: Chelsea. 21st & 9th.
SHAI: I have exactly one hour.
JARED: Meet me at 23rd Street station?
SHAI: I can be there in 15?
* * * *
Shai emerged from the station like a spy, checking behind him and moving along the brick wall of the nearest building, clearly anxious. Jared admired him from across the street—Shai wore polished leather lace-up boots, pinstripe slacks, and a heather grey, herringbone wool coat, which Jared priced out to be at least $800, or far more if it came from some luxury brand. Around his neck, he wore a fine black cashmere scarf that hung nearly to his waist. God, he’s a good dresser, thought Jared.
“Shai! Over here.” Jared waved his arm.
Shai quickly slinked his way across the street, head down and shoulders folded inward. “Hey,” he said, shaking Jared’s hand at the same time Jared tried to hug him.