“Don’t do it,” Tony says. “Do what?” I ask, not taking my eyes off the kitchen door. “Murder a man because he fed your woman a piece of shellfish. Or, at least, wait until we’re not in public. I don’t have that Will Smith memory eraser doo-hickey. I’ll have a better chance of covering up a murder if fifty of New York’s elite aren’t watching.”

“Don’t do it,” Tony says. “Do what?” I ask, not taking my eyes off the kitchen door. “Murder a man because he fed your woman a piece of shellfish. Or, at least, wait until we’re not in public. I don’t have that Will Smith memory eraser doo-hickey. I’ll have a better chance of covering up a murder if fifty of New York’s elite aren’t watching.”

— Ella Goode