Summer and the City

. At the end of the stacks I spot Ryan from class. He’s got his nose in Swann’s Way , scratching his head and jiggling his foot as if overcome by the text.

“Hey,” I say.

“Hey.” He closes the book. “What are you doing here?”

“Going to write a play.” I indicate my small pile of books. “Thought I should read a few first.”

He laughs. “Good idea. The best way to avoid writing is by reading. Then you can at least pretend you’re working.”

I like Ryan. He seems okay as a person, unlike his best friend, Capote Duncan.

I pay for my books, and when I turn around, Ryan is still there. He has the air of someone who doesn’t quite know what to do with himself. “Want to get a coffee?” he asks.

“Sure.”

“I’ve got a couple of hours to kill before I have to meet my fiancee,” he says.

“You’re engaged?” Ryan can’t be more than twenty-one or two. He seems too young to get married.

“My fiancee’s a model.” He scratches his cheek, as if he’s both proud and ashamed of her profession. “I always find if a woman really, really, really wants you to do something, you should do it. It’s easier in the long run.”

“So you don’t want to marry her?”

He smiles awkwardly. “If I sleep with a woman ten times, I think I should marry her. I can’t help myself. If she weren’t so busy, we’d already be married by now.”

We walk down Broadway and go into a hamburger joint. “I wish I could find a guy like that,” I say jokingly. “A guy who does everything I want.”

“Can’t you?” He peers at me in confusion.

“I don’t think I’m the man-wrangler type.”

“I’m surprised.” He absentmindedly picks up his fork and tests the prongs on his thumb. “You’re pretty hot.”

I grin. Coming from another guy, I’d take this as a pickup line. But Ryan doesn’t seem to have an agenda. I suspect he’s one of those guys who says exactly what he’s thinking and is then stupefied by the consequences.

We order coffee. “How’d you meet her? Your model fiancee?”

He jiggles his leg. “Capote introduced us.”

“What is with that guy?” I ask.

“Don’t tell me you’re interested too.”

I give him a dirty look. “Are you kidding? I can’t stand him. He’s supposedly got all these women after him-”

“I know.” Ryan nods in appreciative agreement. “I mean, the guy’s not even that good-looking.”

“He’s like the guy every girl has a crush on in sixth grade. And no one can figure out why.”

Ryan laughs. “I always thought I was that guy.”

“Were you?”

“Kind of, yeah.”

I can see it. Ryan at twelve-masses of dark hair, bright blue eyes-a real teen heartthrob. “No wonder you’re engaged to a model.”

“She wasn’t a model when we met, though. She was studying to be a veterinary assistant.”

I take a sip of my coffee. “That’s like the default profession for girls who don’t know what they want to do. But they ‘love’ animals.”

“Harsh but true.”

“How’d she become a model?”

“Discovered,” Ryan says. “She came to visit me in New York and a guy came up to her in Bergdorf’s and gave her his card.”

“And she couldn’t resist.”

“Don’t all women want to be models?” he asks.

“No. But all men want to date them.”

He chuckles. “You should come to this party tonight. It’s a fashion show for some downtown designer. Becky’s modeling in it. And Capote’s coming.”

“Capote?” I scoff. “How can I resist?” But I write down the address on a napkin, anyway.

After Ryan, I pop by Viktor Greene’s office to tell him about my exciting new plan to write a play. If I’m really jazzed about it, he’ll have to say yes.

Viktor’s door is wide open as if he’s expecting someone, so I walk right in. He grunts, startled, and pets his mustache.

He doesn’t offer me a seat, so I stand in front of his desk. “I’ve figured out what my project should be.”

“Yes?” he asks cautiously, his eyes going past me to the hallway.

“I’m going to write a play!”

“That’s fine.”

“You don’t mind? It’s not a short story or a poem-”

“As long as it’s about family,” he says quickly.

“It will be.” I nod. “I’m thinking it should be about this couple. They’ve been married for a few years and they hate each other-”

Viktor stares at me blankly. It appears he has nothing more to say. I stand awkwardly for a moment then add, “I’ll get started right away.”

“Good idea.” It’s now patently clear he wants me out of there. I give him a little wave as I exit.

I run right into L’il. “Carrie!” She flushes.

“I’m going to write a play,” I inform her excitedly. “Viktor says it’s okay.”

“That’s perfect for you. I can’t wait to read it.”

“I’ve got to write it first.”

She steps to the side, trying to get around me.

“What are you doing tonight?” I ask quickly. “Want to have dinner with me and my friend Miranda?”

“I’d love to, but-”

Viktor Greene comes out of his office. L’il glances up at him. “You sure?” I ask, pressing her. “Miranda’s really interesting. And we’re going to go to one of those cheap Indian places on Sixth Street. Miranda says she knows the best ones-”

L’il blinks as she focuses her attention back on me. “All right. I guess I could-”

“Meet me on Fourteenth and Broadway at eight-thirty. And afterward, we can go to this party,” I say over my shoulder.

I leave L’il and Viktor standing there, staring at me like I’m a mugger who has suddenly decided to spare them.

Chapter Twelve

I write three pages of my play. It’s all about Peggy and her lover-the guy who took those naughty photos-whom I’ve named Moorehouse. Peggy and Moorehouse are having an argument about toilet paper. I think it’s pretty funny and pretty real-I mean, what couple doesn’t argue about toilet paper-and I actually feel satisfied with my work.

At eight o’clock, I pick up Miranda at her house. Miranda’s lucky-she has an old aunt who lives in a small, run- down townhouse, consisting of four floors and a basement, where Miranda lives. The basement has its own entrance and two windows just below the sidewalk. It would be perfect but for the fact that it’s damp and