“What’d Mickey call you?” Arno asked.
“Ooh,” Kelli said. “I guess he thought that was funny.”
There was a mirror above the mantel and Kelli looked at herself. She moved her white-blond hair around. Arno watched her do this, and then he checked out his own hair. “Like falling off a building for no reason is funny.”
Kelli laughed. They locked eyes in the mirror. Music was still playing in the Flood living room, some soft stuff by Idlewild, and Arno wondered if Kelli had put it on. There were maybe five kids left, and Arno didn’t know any of them well enough to care what they thought of him.
“You know, this place is kind of amazing,” Kelli said.
“You should see my house,” Arno said. “People call it the asylum.”
“Why?”
“Because it’s huge and crazy. My parents are art dealers, so the public rooms are filled with lots of crazy art. Where are you from again? They probably help out with shows at the museum there.”
“St. Louis.”
“Oh yeah. I flew there with them. The stewardess was into me and so she took me to this special bathroom that only the staff uses. And that’s when I joined the Mile High Club.”
“Bullshit.”
“For real,” Arno said, smiling. Kelli was definitely hot. For instance, she could curse and it came out sounding like she wasn’t imitating people who really cursed. She picked up a white marble vase. He watched the movement of her arms.
“I’d like to see the asylum sometime,” Kelli said.
“I’d like that, too. Tomorrow night you’ll come to the opening of a show I was involved in at my family’s gallery. The artist is Randall Oddy; you might know his work. We’ll start the evening there, and then if things go well, we’ll end up at my house.” Arno stuck out his hand and ran it under Kelli’s chin. She gave him a sort of half smile and licked her upper lip.
“You’re nothing like your jittery cousin,” Arno said.
“I think I’m really going to like New York.”
Arno walked backward away from Kelli. She followed him. He wasn’t sure where he was going, and his interior map of the Flood house was not very good—not at nearly four in the morning, after a dozen beers. So he accidentally flipped over a couch. Kelli laughed so hard she nearly choked.
That’s when the door opened and February Flood and her friends came in. Arno stood up.
“Arno, you idiot, what are you doing here?” February screamed out. “And who’s this piece of trailer trash?” February wore dark eyeliner and darker clothes. Her short hair was in a bob, and her brown eyes were huge and glassy.
Kelli stopped laughing. February’s friends crept around her and streamed up the stairs to her room.
“Where’s my brother?” February asked.
“There’s a question,” Arno said. “I definitely haven’t seen him all night. Meanwhile, Mickey fell off your roof so everyone took him to the hospital. What’ve you been up to?”
“Cheetah. We rocked it.”
“Oh, did you?” Kelli said. She said “rocked it” under her breath, and shook her head.
“Listen, bitch,” February snapped, “this is my house. I don’t know who you are, but I think it’d be a good idea if you got out, now.”
“Fine,” Kelli said, and headed for the door.
“February, give it a rest. She’s Jonathan’s cousin. Kelli, stay.”
“Jonathan! Well, where the hell are you from, dressed like that?”
“St. Louis.”
“Huh,” February said. “You know, you two make a good couple. Arno, you’re a total slick salesman, and you, you’re …” But February didn’t bother to finish the sentence. She was noticing that the house was trashed. She didn’t seem bothered by this; she was just appraising the damage.
“Have you seen Patch?” February asked.
“You already asked that,” Arno said. “We’re going to hang out here for a while, okay?”
“These two can stay, but the rest of you get the hell out of here,” February said, suddenly turning on the few other kids left on the parlor floor. The stragglers stood quickly and shot out the door like mice. February nodded to herself and went up the grand staircase, leaving Kelli and Arno alone together. Kelli put her finger on Arno’s nose and pressed.
“You’re pretty cute,” she said.
“That’s different from what you are. I would describe you as extremely hot.” He took her finger in his hand. He put it in his mouth and said, “Come home with me now.”
“You know, with Jonathan gone for who knows how long, I would’ve done just that. But I don’t think my mom’d appreciate it. Besides, he’s at the door.”
The front door opened and there was Jonathan, fighting to catch his breath.
“Hey,” he said. “Kelli, we better get home.”
“I want you over at my house tomorrow night, early, for cocktails,” Arno said. He looked into Kelli’s eyes.
“You’re pushy,” Kelli said. “I like that.”
“We’re—” But Arno caught himself before he said meant for each other. He was embarrassed that he’d thought it, because it sounded completely cliché unless you meant it, which he didn’t. Of course, normally he didn’t have to come up with smart lines. Normally, he just kept his mouth shut and got laid.