Liesel and Arno sat in Schiller’s Liquor Bar in a round leather booth. It was a little past eleven and the place was packed. The restaurant was white tile and red leather, with accents of brass. The waitresses had high eyebrows and were beautiful, and the busboys had spindly tattoos on their arms, thin moustaches, and black, greased-back hair.
“It’s Thursday, right?” Arno asked.
Liesel shrugged. She had her phone out and was talking with someone called Dirk, who was living at her parents estate in Southampton.
“Yes, I believe it is,” Arno whispered to himself.
“Where are they?” Liesel had her hair twisted up in a gigantic bun, with a pair of gold chopsticks through it. “I need a drink. Don’t you?” Liesel waved her arms around. When a waitress came by she ordered Irish coffees for both of them. Great, Arno thought, now I’ll be slightly buzzed and very awake. “Don’t you love this place? It makes me feel so very soigné!”
“Like, sophisticated.”
Arno glanced at her. Of course she was trying to be very grown-up. She’d come from an afternoon of “consulting” for Miss Sixty, down on Mulberry Street. She walked around the store and arranged things and got to shop for a discount, not that the discount mattered at all to her. Apparently downtown stores were very into getting her “uptown” touch.
“Sure.”
“Ruth is awesome! Just wait till you meet her. She’s extremely retro, and so, so beautiful. It’s insane that your friend hooked up with her. What did you say his name was again?”
Before Arno could open his mouth to say Jonathan’s name for the tenth time, Jonathan and Ruth parted the red leather curtain that kept the restaurant insulated against the cold breeze from the street and stepped inside.
“Darlings, over here!” Liesel yelled. Then there was much kissing on cheeks and everyone settled in. Liesel ordered more Irish coffees for the newcomers.
Arno pulled Liesel closer to him, and sniffed at her hair.
“Don’t yank me!” Liesel picked up a bread knife and pointed it at Arno’s throat.
“Down, girl,” Ruth said to her friend. Liesel dropped the knife with a clatter and threw her arms around Ruth.
“I love you!” Liesel made a raspberry noise on Ruth’s cheek with her open mouth. “And I hate being yanked!”
“These boys,” Ruth said, trying to wriggle away from Liesel, “are going to find you annoying if you don’t stop.”
But clearly, Liesel was long past caring what anyone thought of her.
“So this trip?” Arno asked Jonathan, who was carefully examining a menu.
“Right. I need to talk to you about that.” Jonathan put down his menu and leaned in toward Arno very seriously. “I’m only supposed to bring one person. But I asked all you guys, except Patch, and that’s mostly just ’cause I haven’t seen him, and now I’m kind of screwed because I can’t choose between you all like that.”
“I get that,” Arno said. “I guess you’ll just play it by ear and let us know what you decide later?”
“Yeah, I guess.”
Neither Jonathan nor Arno looked like they were crazy about that idea.
“Hey—is there something you’re not telling me?” Arno asked.
“Can we get some service over here?” Liesel yelled. She grabbed a waiter with a bleached-white mohawk and ordered a bottle of champagne and a lot of tapas, a few pieces of everything.
“Not really,” Jonathan said, to Arno. “Or, well, nothing you’ve got to know now.”
“Hmm,” Arno said, noticing the way Ruth had just tried to catch Jonathan’s eye when he said that.
“Boy, I sure wish I didn’t have to go back to David’s house tonight,” Jonathan said. But Ruth and Liesel were talking and laughing so loudly that no one could hear him.