He was almost attractive, but his eyes were more grey than blue and his jaw line was hidden under baby soft skin. He was leaning back in his chair with his legs open as if he were as important as his Father. All he had that truly glistened was his trust fund, which beamed from his ill-fitting Cartier watch and Barton Perreira frames. Leaving out the Jr., he let the ring of his Father’s name tickle the girl with the beige Tom Ford shades and rail-straight blonde hair. Together they made a quiet couple, exchanging brief Italian phrases with little emotion. He tried to talk like his Father, but the expectedly gregarious Italian syllables came out too softly to imitate the almost rude confidence of the man that shared with him nothing more than blood and money.
Spotted during Happy Hour in Antique Garage, an upscale Turkish restaurant in New York, NY