The answer, as some guy points out, is Mia Farrow, and he walks off with the mystery prize—a bottle of vodka. Suzy watches him with barely concealed misery in her eyes. “It’s Stoli!’ she turns to you, distraught. “Stoli! Waaaah!”
“Now now, don’t get upset. If you work hard and save your pennies, one day you’ll be able to afford a bottle of your very own. Let’s go check the phone, shall we?”
“Okay.” She sniffs.
Hallelujah, there’s a message from Nick. “He’s going for dinner at the Apollo, he’ll be there until ten,” Suzy announces as she hangs up.
You breathe a sigh of relief. “See, now we actually know where we’re going! It’s all going to turn out fine!”
Read on here.
“My hero!” Lisa swoons, after you’ve dragged her back to the front room. She pins you to the bar when someone tries to push past her. You swallow the rest of your drink and put it down just in time to turn back and meet her kiss. You don’t even know if you like her, but you go with the kiss anyway and immediately get an erection. It’s been way too long. Since you’ve been with a woman, that is. Certainly not since you’ve had an erection. Then you feel a strong hand squeezing your shoulder. You pull away from Lisa, dreading facing the asshole from the other room again.
“What’s up?” Dave says as you turn.
You heave a sigh of relief.
“You okay, buddy?” he says, giving you a look that says it’s way too early in the night to be making out with random women in public.
“Fine,” you say. “I’m fine. Boy am I glad to see you.”
Lisa elbows you and you introduce the two of them.
“Your friend here just defended my honor against this asshole in the back,” Lisa says. “There he is right there.…” She starts to talk superloudly and point as the guy comes toward you. “See that guy, right there? That’s the asshole.”
“Hey asshole,” Dave says brightly, like it’s the guy’s name, and you wonder whether everybody has gone insane.
“What’s up, Dave,” the guy says as he approaches. “You know these two?”
“Yeah,” Dave says. “You?”
Everyone gets introduced (sure enough the guy’s name is Dick), apologies are exchanged, and Dave gives you the fifty dollars he owes you, ten of which you give to Lisa to cover your burger.
“Come on,” you say to her, “we have to catch up with everybody at Spinners.”
“Have fun, kids,” Dave says. “I’m going to stick around here for a while. The band’s playing another set. Leave me a message about where the party is and maybe I’ll catch you later.”
You’re relieved at first, but then you realize Dave’s taken off his baseball cap and fixed his hair. Maybe you actually want him to come with you. Lisa’s getting a little too close for comfort.
If you just leave with Lisa, thinking Dave will cramp your style, read on here.
If you go after Dave and convince him that he has to come with you, read on here.
You tell Suzy to pick Mia, and in a split second she’s clambered onstage and is yelling, “Mia Farrow! Mia Farrow!” in the guitarist’s ear.
“Mia Farrow, absolutely right,” he shouts. “And here’s your prize.”
“Woohoo!” Suzy is wearing an exultant expression and the reason is clear—the prize is a bottle of Stoli. On the one hand, this is good, because Suzy loves Stoli. On the other hand, it’s very, very bad, for exactly the same reason. There is every possibility that the night is going to take a nasty turn.
Before she’s even climbed down from the stage, Suzy has opened the bottle and taken a swig. And another swig. Yikes, she’s going to have a bruise tomorrow, after knocking into the amplifier like that. And it’s a pity she didn’t notice that cord—though it’s remarkable that she didn’t spill a drop of vodka as she fell.
“You okay?” you ask when she finally manages to get down from the stage.
“Peachy! Woohoo, it’s gonna be a fun night!”
“Maybe you should slow down? It’s still early.”
“Nah, don’t be so worried. Loosen up a little. Here, hold this while I call and check my voice mail.”
You stand beside her while she dials her voice-mail number. “Message from Nick!” she says excitedly. That’s a relief. You take a gulp of vodka. Suzy’s right; you should just relax.
“He says he’s getting dinner at … what was that? Polly’s restaurant, I think he said, and he’ll be there until ten o’clock. Or maybe it was the Apollo … why does he always chew gum when he talks? Wait a second and I’ll play it again.”
She presses a button and then swears.
“Suzy, you didn’t, you didn’t … tell me you didn’t hit the wrong number and erase the message by mistake?”
“I didn’t hit the wrong number and erase the message by mistake.” She winces.
“You did, didn’t you?”
“Er, yes.”
You groan and down another mouthful of vodka.
“But hey, it’s not so bad! At least we have a fifty-fifty chance of picking the right place the first time! And even if we don’t, I’m sure we can make it to both before ten!”
You can’t shake the feeling that it’s not going to be quite as easy as that. In any case, time to pick a restaurant.
If you choose Polly’s, read on here.
If you choose the Apollo, read on here.
The guy takes your hand, and you help him up. Only the second he’s back on his feet he takes a swing at you. You duck. He misses. You swing at him. He ducks, comes back at you with a right hook, and the next thing you know …
You wake up in the emergency room, Lisa calling your name.
“What happened?” you cry out.
“I’m here,” she says, trying to sound reassuring. “Everything’s going to be okay.”
But everything doesn’t feel okay. In fact, you’re in a good deal of pain. “What happened?”
“You got hit and you went down. Your nose is broken.”
Your hand instinctively goes to touch your nose, but all you can feel are copious bandages and pain. “Oh god,” you say, closing your eyes hard—like it’ll make this whole scene go away.
“He speaks!” A guy wearing a white coat has walked into the room, wielding a chart, which he puts on the foot of the bed as he approaches you.
“Who the hell are you?”
“Not the friendly sort, is he?” He’s turning your head from side to side, examining the bandages.
“No, he’s not,” you say. “And he still wants to know who the hell you are.”
“Dr. Thompson’s the name, broken noses the game.”
This guy can’t be a doctor, you’re thinking. He can’t be much older than you are. But he’s got a white coat and an air of authority, so you go with it. “When can I go home, Doctor Thompson?”
“As soon as you’re cleared by psych.”
“Excuse me?”
“Standard procedure. A psych evaluation.”
“I come in here with a broken nose and I have to see a shrink?”
“You came in here with a broken nose that you got in a bar brawl that you no doubt got involved in because you’ve been systematically abusing alcohol for so long you think it’s normal to go out and have ten beers twice a weekend. Or maybe not. We just want to be sure you’re not coming in here next week with half of a beer bottle smashed into your head.”
“But Lisa here can vouch for me, can’t you, Lisa?” Surely the woman who was sucking down her Long Island Iced Tea like it was the first liquid she’d come across after spending two weeks in the desert can see how preposterous this situation is.
“I don’t know,” she says, eyeing the young doctor, who you suddenly realize is probably considered pretty good-looking by the vast majority of women walking the earth. “You were kind of knocking them back like there was no tomorrow. I don’t like who you become when you drink.” This, from a woman you’ve been out with twice, tops!
“Ahem.” There’s another figure at the door.
“Aha,” says Dr. Thompson. “There’s the shrink now. Lisa, I’m afraid you’ll have to wait outside with me.”
“My pleasure,” she says, sidling up to him. “By the way, you owe me thirty dollars,” she calls back to you.
“Listen, I don’t need a shrink,” you say to this new doctor as he pulls a chair up to the bed.
“Ah, yes,” he says, pulling up a chair next to your bed. “‘Shrink.’” He makes quote marks in the air. “I’m not uncomfortable with the term, you know. In truth, I’m leading a movement within the psychiatrist’s community to embrace the term shrink, as you say, in much the same way the lesbian community made efforts to make dyke their own. I’ve got this idea for a campaign that would be sponsored by our professional association, ads that play up the shrink idea. For example, ‘There’s a reason they call us shrinks. We shrink your problems away.’ I think it could do wonders for the field, what do you think?”
Needless to say, you’re not going anywhere for some time.
And when you do, it’s going to be home. To bed. Alone.
The End
Outside, Nick leans against the wall and lights a cigarette. Either he does want to make a move but is trying his best to be sophisticated and cool or … or he’s just strange. Or an idiot. You can’t figure him out, though, of course, that’s probably the general idea.
“Look, Nick, if you don’t have any particular words of wisdom to impart or any real reason why we should be shivering outside the bar, far away from our comfortable seats, then I’m going back in.”
“Don’t do that. What I wanted to say is this: If you want to end up with Mark tonight, I can’t stop you. It’s up to you. But there’s no law saying we can’t do this first.” With that he stubs out his cigarette, moves toward you, and, with a flourish that would not be out of the place in a 1940s movie, takes you in his arms—who knew people still did that?—and kisses you.
“Whoa!” You push him off, holding one arm out to keep him at bay. “Down.”
“You don’t want to?”
But why shouldn’t you? No one’s going to know. You kiss again, and it’s only when you hear Suzy coughing loudly behind you that you break apart.
“This isn’t quite what they mean by ‘kissing cousins,’ is it?”
“Hey, Suze.” Nick is grinning, embarrassed.
“You want to go to the party now? Phil and I are ready.”
Nick goes back inside to get his jacket, and Suzy grabs you. “What on earth are you doing? What about Mark?”
“It was just a kiss. No big deal. What’s the worst that can happen?”
“Well, I dunno,” she wavers. “Let’s just get out of here.”
You, Nick, Phil, and Suzy eventually pile into a taxi and head for Lindy’s house. There are already far too many guests crammed into her living room, so you and Suzy find space to stand in the hallway while Nick and Phil go to get drinks.
“So that kiss didn’t mean anything?” Suzy asks again.
“I guess not. Kind of childish, huh?” Maybe it was stupid.
“Probably harmless. Nick’s never been one for serious girlfriends. In fact, those few minutes you spent outside were probably the longest relationship he’s had in a while. Hey, will you look who just walked in?”
It’s Mark. And miracle of miracles, he is actually approaching. Smiling. At you.
“Hey, good to see you.” He’s looking intently at you now. “How’s things?”
“Great, wonderful.” Was that too gushing? Should you sound more apathetic? “Reasonable, anyway.”
“Really? Only reasonable?” He leans in a little closer, brushing the hair off your neck. Good lord, you feel like your loins are going to explode. “Judging by the fresh hickey you’ve got on your neck, I’d say they were pretty good. Who’s the lucky guy?” Speechless, you clutch the offending spot with your hand and turn bright red. “Guess I’d better leave you to it.” He smiles, more forced this time, and walks away.
You gaze after him, utterly miserable, then sink to the floor, bury your face in your hands, and groan. “I can’t believe it! How humiliating was that!”
“Pretty damn humiliating.” Suzy pats you on the shoulder. “Should I go see what’s happened to those drinks?”
“Just bring me the bottle.”
The End
“I’d love to.” She stands and faces you and Mike squarely. “I’ll get my jacket and meet you outside?”
“Great,” you say, and she goes.
“Yeah, just great. Sadie’ll love that,” Mike says.
You explain to Mike that just because you have a huge crush on Sadie doesn’t mean she in any way has to reciprocate and that this Elizabeth thing is just too good an opportunity to pass up.
“Well, if young Sadie doesn’t reciprocate your feelings, why was she so determined to find out whether or not you were going to the party tonight?”
“You didn’t tell me that!”
“It only happened today.” Mike watches Elizabeth disappear backstage. “We could split without her.”
“I can’t, man.” You shake your head. “I just apologized for being such a shit to her when we were in camp.”
“You know what they say, once a shit, always a shit. Or is it, if it looks like shit, and smells like shit … oh, I don’t know. You get the point.”
If you leave without Elizabeth, read on here.
If you decide to wait for her and worry about Sadie later, read on here.
“I don’t want to go outside.” You’re smiling politely.
“Why not? It’ll be fun.” He’s also smiling politely.
“I don’t see any need to go outside. We can talk in here.” Still smiling politely, but a trifle forced.
“If we go outside, we can do more than talk.”
“I don’t want to do more than talk.” You’ve stopped smiling.
“I see.” So has he. “Maybe I don’t feel like going to the party after all.”
“I don’t believe this.” You slam your drink down and stare at him. “You’re sulking? Because I won’t go outside and make out with you? How old are you?”
“I just don’t see why I should go out of my way to bring you and Suzy to some party that I don’t even want to go to. It has nothing to do with you not going outside, so don’t flatter yourself. Shit, if I wanted I could have any woman in this bar.”
“Assuming you brought along a tranquilizer gun and a big net.”
“Go fuck yourself, bitch.”
“You too, asshole.”
“What is going on here?” demands Suzy, who’s finally dragged herself away from the guy she’s been with. “Two minutes ago you were getting along so well!”
“Your dickhead cousin won’t go to the party because I won’t make out with him.”
“Nick? You’re kidding. Is that true?”
“Suzy, I don’t need this interrogation from you. Or your skanky friends.”
Skanky! The nerve! You’re holding a nearly full bottle of beer, and even though it’s one of those things you swore you’d never do, an utter cliché in fact, you pour it over his head, then jump off your stool and back away before he can retaliate. “Suzy, I’ll call you tomorrow. Nick, it’s been a pleasure. Don’t get up. I’ll see myself out.”
The End
“No, wait.” Elizabeth grabs Mike’s arm as he turns to go. She turns back to you. “Go with your friends. Truth is I really wouldn’t be great company with the mood I’m in.”
“Are you sure?” You can’t let this woman slip away again. Not that she was a woman last time and not like you really let her “slip away” per se, but you’re feeling kind of arous … er, passionate.
“Yeah, really.”
“Hey E. B.!” Nat is shouting over at her again. “What did I tell you five minutes ago?”
“You should really go. And I should stay and deal with this”—she nods her head toward Nat—“once and for all. I
t was great to see you.” She takes your hand and squeezes it.
You say the first thing that comes to mind. “I still get an erection every time I’m by a lake.”
She laughs and gives your hand another squeeze. “That’s the sweetest thing anyone’s ever said to me.” She plants a wet kiss on your lips, brushes your cheek with her hand, and, suddenly encircled by fans, turns to sell a CD.
“You ready to go, ace?” Mike, who had stepped back to give you some privacy, leans forward again.
“As ready as I’ll ever be.”
Read on here.
Ah, the Pub. You swing open the door and inhale that familiar scent … a combination of smoke, beer, and the old guy who always stands beside the jukebox.
Kate is working tonight, and she gives you a nod and a frazzled smile as she clears two empty martini glasses away.
“Busy?” you ask. “Hey, cute dress, by the way.”
“Thanks … though I wish I was wearing something else; I can feel at least a dozen eyes boring into me whenever I bend down to get more ice. Two of them belonging to your roommate, incidentally.”
“He’s here?” It’s not often you see him in a social setting.
“He’s here,” she says, wiping out an ashtray, “and he looks a little weird.”
“He always looks a little weird,” you point out. “It’s those eyebrows. His tweezer skills are somewhat lacking.”
“True, but this is weird in a different, nonphysical sense. He looks sad or something. Mopey, y’know.”
“I guess he didn’t get laid, then. There’s a girl he likes, and he was under the impression he’s end up fuc…” At this point Kate gives a loud cough and you realize he’s standing beside you, about to order a drink.
“Another please, Kate, and one for my big-mouthed roommate here.”
“Thanks,” you say sheepishly. “So I guess things didn’t work out with Sophie?”
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