and will require verbal authorization to enter. Do you authorize entry?”
“Yes.”
“Thank you,” the eye said. “Please proceed.”
He opened the door and we went in.
“Shit.”
The hall was wide, with some kind of flat red carpet and fancy lights down the walls. Big plants in big pots were in between the lights. The place looked like a straight-up palace.
“This way,” he said.
He took us down the hall to an elevator, then up to the one hundred thirtieth floor, where he and his parents lived.
“What are you going to tell your mom?” I asked as he flashed his key at the door and opened it.
“That we’re dating.”
“In your dreams, asshole. Anyone else live here?”
“Just my sister.”
It turned out it wasn’t a problem, since no one was home. He hit the lights and dropped his keys on the counter, but no one showed up or said anything.
“Guys?” he called. The place was quiet. “Guess they’re out,” he said.
“Bathroom?”
“Down there,” he said, pointing. “Go. Go pee.”
My boots clomped on the wood floor as I went down the hall to their head. The door was dark wood and had a brass knob. I pushed it open.
“Shit.”
“Put the seat down when you’re done,” he called.
“Funny.”
His toilet was almost the size of my living room and ten times nicer. When I walked through the door, it smelled better too. There was a big white sink and a huge white tub with jets in it that was big enough to soak in. All the faucets were brass, like the doorknob, and everything was shiny and clean. It looked like a picture in a magazine.
The toilet looked as shiny as the rest of it. It seemed wrong to sit there, but I really had to go.
When I was done, I started to head out when I caught a look in the mirror over the sink, and for some reason it made me stop. The mirror was huge compared to mine, carved around the edges and framed with shiny brass. I saw myself standing there in the middle of it, and compared to everything else, I just looked dirty. Beat-up jacket, big black eye, and busted lip. The bandage over my other eye was the cleanest thing on me. My picture didn’t belong there with the rest of it, and this was just their shitter.
When I looked down, I saw a bar of clear soap in a tray, and next to that were two more that were wrapped in colored paper.
Just like that, I didn’t want to be there anymore. I didn’t belong there. If his folks did come home and saw me, there would be a shit storm.
When I left the toilet, Luis almost plowed into me on his way back from wherever he went. He looked jumpy.
“What’s your problem?” I said.
“Nothing,” he said. He rubbed his face, and when he was done his grin was back, but not all the way.
“Trouble?”
“No.”
“Thanks for the bailout, then. I’m out. Nice can.”
“Wait.”
I was at the front door, one hand on the knob. When he said it, I knew something was up. I knew that before I got out of there, there was going to be a catch. No one gives you shit for free; there’s always a catch.
“What?”
“Actually, something kind of came up.”
“While I was in the john?”
“I made a call.”
“It must have been a quick one.”
“It was,” he said. “I can’t stay here.”
“So don’t.”
“I need another ride.”
“Look.” I sighed. “You’re cute, and thanks for the help, but I’m not a taxi. Got it?”
“Just one more. I promise that will be it.”
“Why can’t you stay here?”
“It’s complicated. Please?”
“Where?”
“Your place?”
“I’m out of here.”
“I’ll pay you—”
“Pay me? For what?”
“Just to give me a place to crash for a few hours,” he said, putting up his hands. “Just so I can make some calls, and then I’ll be out of your hair. I’ll even buy dinner. Please, I’m in a bind—”
“Jesus—”
“What if I said I could bump you up to a two?”
That stopped me. It had to be bullshit, but it did stop me.
“I’d say you must be in trouble.”
“I am.”
Right when he said that, I saw it was true. He was pretty much full of shit, but right then, he was for real.
“I’d say you’re a liar too.”
“Not this time,” he said. “If you help me, I’ll try.”
I didn’t see how he could pull that off, but then, who knew? He was some kind of tech geek, he had rich folks, first class …maybe he could rig it. What was there to lose?
“Why’d you bail me out?” I asked.
He shrugged.
“I gave you the shiner.”
“Oh.”
For the first time that day, I felt like I could laugh. It must have been a pretty good punch.
“Come on,” I said, and the grin came back, but like before, not all the way. It never came back all the way again.
With what I know now, I guess I get that.
Nico Wachalowski—Restaurant District
The restaurant Faye had suggested in her text was a noodle house sandwiched between two buildings where the streets and sidewalks were so crowded, it was difficult to get through. Cars sat bumper to bumper just beyond banks of frozen snow, while people shouldered by each other on either side of the road so that all I saw in front of me was a carpet of hats and scarves. If I hadn’t taken the subway, I’d have never made it.
The restaurant was bigger on the inside than it looked from the street, but the lobby was filled to capacity and probably beyond it. Brushing snow off my coat, I looked around to see if I could spot her.
I’d meant to break the date. I didn’t have the time to spare, and I didn’t know what I would say to her. We’d
