“That dinner was hell,” Mickey said. “Philippa’s dad tried to blackmail my dad out of a million dollars in art, all to get me out of trouble. They got in this huge argument about it and me and Philippa went to the bathroom together and then we were like, let’s just duck out. So we’re here. Where’s beer?” he asked. But there was none in the fridge. He looked over at David and Arno, who were still sitting at the kitchen table. He grabbed David’s beer and gulped it down.
“That’s better,” Mickey said. “Philippa’s upstairs with Liza and a bunch of other people. And they’re even starting to get worried about Patch.” Mickey stared at David and Arno. “What’s the matter with you two?” Mickey couldn’t figure out the deal with David and Arno. They looked sad about girls, but Mickey knew they couldn’t possibly be sad for the same kinds of reasons.
“Those girls love Patch,” David said.
“Because he’s nice to them,” Arno added.
“He doesn’t try anything with them but he’s really good-looking, in a dope-smoker kind of way.”
“When you two get done with your pity party, let me know,” Mickey said. “I’m going upstairs to see who wants to get wasted.”
Mickey turned around and walked out of the kitchen, leaving David and Arno alone. He thought they were the weirdest pair: the black-haired smoothie in the suit and the most sensitive basketball player in the world.
On the way upstairs, Mickey grabbed a bottle of Heineken from some kid.
“Hey!” Adam Rickenbacher said.
“You shouldn’t be drinking anyway,” Mickey said.
“You’re right,” Adam said. “I have better things to do.” And he scooted out of Mickey’s reach and up the stairs. Mickey walked by Amanda and Philippa and Liza, who were whispering, their heads nearly touching. He tried to butt in, but Philippa pushed him away with her elbow.
“Not now,” she whispered.
Just then the door opened and Jonathan’s cousin walked in with some artist Mickey vaguely recognized and some other adults who were dressed like kids. He was pretty sure they were adults, anyway.
“Hi, Mickey!” Kelli called out.
She came running over and gave him a kiss. She was dressed in a black miniskirt and a black T-shirt that said I’m the Talent.
“Arno’s downstairs,” he said. “That dude’s in love with you.”
“He doesn’t even know what love is,” Kelli said. Mickey raised an eyebrow. She had a point. The artist put a possessive hand on Kelli, who didn’t seem to notice.
“I think I know you,” Mickey said to Randall. “And I’m pretty sure my dad says your art sucks.”
“Who’s your dad?” Randall looked like he was about to laugh.
Mickey looked back at Amanda and Philippa and Liza. They were really glaring. Not at him, he figured. Not at the artist guy. Kelli. They hated Kelli. That figured. She was pretty hot.
“My dad is Ricardo Pardo,” Mickey said. The guy paled. Suddenly his face was the color of his white leather jacket.
“Oh shit,” Randall said.
Mickey laughed. He didn’t like arrogant young art guys any more than the next high schooler. Especially not when they were hanging out with seventeen-year-old girls from St. Louis.
“When’s she leaving?” he heard Amanda whisper, loud. She was always the loudest of her group.
“What do you care?” Kelli said, and squared off against Amanda. Then Amanda got right up in Kelli’s face.
“You’re screwing everything up,” Amanda said. “You’re just lucky you didn’t get with the guy I like.”
“Oh, come on,” Kelli said. “What could you even do to stop me?”
“Oh my God,” Amanda said, laughing. “As if I can’t scheme with the best of them?” She turned back to Liza and Philippa, but they weren’t behind her anymore. Mickey had finished his beer and found another one, where someone had left it on the mantelpiece. The room had slowly begun to fill with kids everyone knew but no one knew that well, and the music had switched to some haunting Belle and Sebastian.
Mickey looked around. He smelled nothing but beer, and he could feel Kelli’s artist and his friends whispering about him. He played with his goggles and wondered for the second time that week where his Vespa had gone. Meanwhile, Kelli was still in front of him.
“You know what?” Mickey said. “I’m going to go get Arno. Maybe he can help straighten all this out.”
Mickey whipped around to get downstairs and find Arno, but when he looked, he saw that Arno was already headed their way.