The Insiders

by J. Minter

  “She doesn’t know that,” David said. “Did your mom sell your apartment?”

  “I’m kidding,” I said. “But there is a room in my mom’s name at the Grand. It’s probably a suite. We can all crash there.”

  “I guess that’s cool,” David agreed.

  I saw Ezra the driver dance by.

  He said, “Hey, you know Kelli? She’s cool.”

  And I just shook my head and pretended not to hear him. Arno’s model was clearly sick for him, and I mean sick. She hung on him like they were lost at sea and he was a life preserver. But he was still looking around for Kelli.

  “Jonathan?”

  I turned around and it was Fernanda, from Barneys. That girl, she glowed.

  I said, “Let’s dance.”

  She was carrying a highball glass that she must have brought from another party and she was trailed by five or six people who were so well dressed they simply had to be her friends from work.

  “You know Graca?” she asked.

  “I know Patch,” I said. She smiled, as if that made everything okay, and we began a slow dance.

  “Hi, Fernanda,” someone said. Kelli.

  “Dammit, Kelli!” I yelled. “Your knowing everybody ruins everything for everyone else!”

  “Whoa,” Fernanda said. She took a step back.

  “Why are you so threatened by it?” Kelli asked.

  “Because nobody learns New York in a week,” I said. Well, maybe I spluttered. David, who’d been furiously making out with Amanda, who’d showed up with Liza and Jane, looked up.

  “It’s destiny,” Kelli said simply.

  “Bullshit,” I said. “You turned all my friends against each other and made me lose sight of Patch!”

  I immediately whipped around. Patch was nowhere in sight.

  “You did it again!” I yelled.

  “You’re ridiculous,” Kelli said. She turned to Fernanda. “How’s Barnard?” she asked.

  And Fernanda frowned at me.

  “Good. Do you have any additional questions, or did you feel like the tour I gave you was pretty comprehensive?”

  “Oh,” I said. I’d been pretty loud. People were looking. Where was Patch?

  Fernanda smiled gently. She said, “You two do something together?”

  “We’re cousins,” I said.

  “Kissing cousins?”

  “Hardly,” I said.

  I took Fernanda’s hand and drew her toward me. She smelled faintly of Barneys. Or maybe what I loved about Barneys was the smell of her? Who cared? She was near me. I kissed her. Unfortunately, it lasted only about a second, till I felt voices calling my name.

  “Did you lose Patch?” Mickey yelled. He was on the other side of the room, arguing with a bunch of Randall Oddy’s friends. He could be pretty smart when he wanted to be.

  “Did you?” Arno yelled. He was dancing with that model he’d picked up, Elizabetta.

  “It’s cool,” David said. “He went home to show Flan he’s okay. I saw him get in a cab.”

  “You sure?” I asked.

  “Call Flan.”

  “No, not right now.”

  Fernanda was starting to walk away from me, and I caught up with her.

  “You’re not seeing me at my best,” I said.

  “I hope not,” she said.

  “It’s been a stressful week,” I said. “I had one of my best friends disappear, and my other friends all had some difficulties and it was really, really hard to keep track of everything. But if I could just see you some other time …”

  “What?”

  “You’re amazing,” I said.

  “You know where to find me.”

  “In shoes,” I said. And yeah, I sounded dreamy. She slipped away, and I let her go.

  Then the weird thing happened when you’re at the party for longer than you’re supposed to be, and everything dissolves and it’s just a room full of people you don’t know very well, who all look kind of sweaty, and you need to run around and gather up your friends as quickly as possible, otherwise you’ll end up in a cab alone. And nobody wants that. So I started whispering around about the suite at the Tribeca Grand.

  Kelli heard me and said, “That’s my suite.” I couldn’t totally disagree with her, since if she wanted to stay there, that was cool with me. I wanted her close right up to the moment when she walked onto the tarmac and onto United flight number Make-Things-Normal-Again.

  Because the hotel was so close, the four of us and Kelli walked over and checked in. David fell asleep on a big white sharkskin chair. Kelli shared the sofa with Arno, and I listened to them talking about how strongly he felt and she sounded like she was being kind of patient with him about it. I took the big bed with Mickey, who was passed out before he had his shoes off. Outside, I could see the sun start to rise. I closed my eyes. But Mickey smelled so strongly of alcohol that I had to stuff tissues up my nose.

  “Hey, Jonathan.”

  “What?” I asked. It was Kelli. She gotten up from the other room and now she was standing over me.

  “I know I was a little more than you’d bargained for but I guess … I want to thank you.”

  “What for, idiot?” I said. But I sort of smiled up at her. Mickey smelled so bad. I wondered when he ever changed his jumpsuit.

  “Thanks for letting me come out with you.”

  “Well,” I said.

  Kelli sat down at the edge of the bed. Her hair was sticking up in places and her new Helmut Lang pants were stiff, too. But her arms were kind of thin and innocent. She was like that—about the most innocent thing about her were her forearms.

  “Sorry if I screwed up your life and made you lose track of your friend.”

  “I guess it’s not really your fault,” I said. “Except for the part where you nearly totally destroyed all my friends’ relationships.”

  “Kelli?” Arno said.

  Kelli smiled at me. “He said he’d cry unless I held him tight.”

  “You’re the first girl who ever said no to him.”

  “Shut up,” Arno said.

  “I say no to everybody,” Kelli said.

  “Except me,” David said, and smiled in his sleep.

  Kelli stood up then, and through the curtains, the city had begun to glow behind her. Then, just as I was falling off for a much-needed few hours of sleep, I heard Kelli go back over and lie down next to Arno.

  “You’re a pain in the ass,” Arno said.

  “You’re worse, rich boy,” Kelli said.

  And then they went on and began arguing in that way that inevitably means you’re going to fool around, and pretty seriously, too, if nobody stops you, which I certainly wasn’t going to, because I was asleep by then, and the bed was comfortable. And if two people who were sort of made for each other but didn’t really like each other at all were going to get into something serious, who was I to stop them?

  sunday brings us near to our end

  the flood family actually sits down together

  The croissants were golden and flaky, and their hot pastry smell washed over everything. At the table in the downstairs dining room, just off the kitchen, sat five Floods: Frederick and his wife, Fiona, Flan, February, and Patch, who had his eyes closed and was still listening to music from the night before.

  “How was St. Lucia?” Flan said to her mom. Flan was wearing her riding clothes, including her brown velvet helmet with the chin strap done up. They’d asked her repeatedly to take it off, but she said she liked to be prepared, because she planned to go riding with a special someone. She wouldn’t say who that was.

  “What?” Fiona Flood asked.

  “Weren’t you there?”

  Fiona shot a look at her husband. Frederick was slathering a croissant with butter.

  “Have some croissant with your butter?” Fiona asked, and frowned. “I was there, yes. For a few days, for a much-needed rest from your father.”

  “Doesn’t anyone want to hear about how my job is going?” Februa
ry asked. She’d come in from her night two hours before, at eight in the morning, but the elder Floods had been out in the garden, discussing what to do with the rosebushes. Retrench or pare back?

  “What about it?” Frederick said.

  “It sucks,” February said.

  “This orange juice is fantastic,” Patch said. It was all he could think of to say. It wasn’t that he didn’t like his family, he just didn’t get them. Even his little sister Flan was slowly getting lost on him. She made a pouty face all the time, and it was confusing that she’d gotten so good-looking and was only in eighth grade.

  He sipped the juice, which was fresh. The scrambled eggs had bits of salmon and chive flecked through them. Patch ate quietly, with his head down.

  “We may be headed back up to Greenwich, midweek,” Frederick said.

  Flan stared down at her plate and adjusted her helmet. She helped herself to more eggs. Of course February was only drinking coffee, black.

  “How’s Zed doing?” Fiona asked.

  But nobody said anything, because nobody really knew.

  “This is the best coffee,” Patch said as he sipped at it. He didn’t like to drink a lot of coffee, because he didn’t like to be that awake, but he couldn’t think of what else to say. During the silence that followed, the entire family began to stare at him. He looked at his plate.

  “What?” Patch said. He smiled at them, his crinkly smile that made everybody feel good and got them to leave him alone at the same time.

  “How’s Mickey?” his mother asked. “I think we’re seeing the Pardos tomorrow night or the next for the symphony. Anything special we should know about?”

  “Yes, how are your friends?” Frederick asked. Then he seemed to remember something, and got up and went back to the kitchen.

  “Well,” Patch said. “Um. I think they had a tough week.”

  “Why?”

  “Um.” Patch looked at the hem of his khakis, at the freckles on his arm. He smiled. He thought, Graca. He wanted to see her, and desire washed over him. He’d told her he’d see her later, but what had he meant? He needed to see her now. He wondered how to do it.

  “Mickey broke his arm,” Flan said.

  “He slipped on some stairs at school,” February said. Both his sisters were staring at Patch, slight grins on their faces.

  “What about Zed?” Frederick said on his way back into the room.

  “Dad,” Flan said, “Zed is at Vassar.”

  “We can still talk about him, can’t we?” Frederick asked. And suddenly all of the Floods looked confused. How was Zed doing?

  “Let’s call,” Fiona said. “Who has his number?”

  Just then the family dog, Fido, came running in. She’d been up in Greenwich. She was a big dog, a retriever mixed with a St. Bernard—floppy and excited. Patch dropped onto the floor to play with her while the family discussed calling their eldest son.

  “Has anyone walked Fido?” Patch asked.

  Nobody responded. Flan was hitting herself on the helmet with her riding crop. February was leaned so far back in her chair that it looked as if she were about to pass out. From his vantage point on the floor, Patch could see her fingering a cigarette. Frederick rubbed the sleeve of his orange cashmere sweater against his cleanshaven cheek.

  “Perhaps we ought to drive up to Boston and see him?” Frederick said.

  “Dad!” the two girls said.

  “I know, I know, Vassar’s in Washington,” Frederick said. The family laughed, if not heartily.

  “Let’s go, girl,” Patch said. He slipped a white leather leash onto Fido’s collar. The dog licked Patch’s ears. On the way out, Patch grabbed a jacket off the coat tree by the front door. It happened to be his father’s four-thousand-dollar Paul Stuart shearling coat, but Patch didn’t notice. He only thought, this feels soft.

  Outside, the day was beautiful and cool. Patch began to walk Fido downtown. He didn’t know where he was going. Then he did. Graca.

  arno’s dreamgirl goes home

  “Wake up,” Jonathan said. Arno opened one eye and looked straight up into Jonathan’s frowning face.

  Arno was in bed with Kelli, legs intertwined under a sheet. Kelli instantly stood up and went to the bathroom. Four boys’ heads swiveled and watched her go as she dragged the sheet off a very naked Arno.

  “Put your shorts on, hotstuff,” Jonathan said. “We’ve got a plane to catch.”

  “You go,” Arno said, and fell back against the pillows. On the couch, Mickey began to stir. Somehow, during the night, everyone had switched places. David was over by the windows, calmly explaining to his mother why she hadn’t been able to reach him at Jonathan’s house.

  “There’s no bigger explanation, Mom,” David said. “I’d tell you if there was, I swear. No, not with Jonathan. I promise. I slept in a chair.”

  “Dude,” Mickey sputtered as he sat up, “David’s mom thinks you want to sleep with David.”

  Jonathan didn’t seem to notice. He said, “I called Ezra. He’s psyched about the Vespa, we’re going to eat at Bubby’s, and then he’ll help us get my cousin out of town.”

  “What are you talking about?” Arno said, and quickly sat up and looked around. The room was a mess. There were clothes and glasses everywhere.

  “She’s leaving, that’s what I’m talking about.”

  Arno stood up and went into the bathroom, where Kelli was. She looked up at him. She was on her phone. He stood in front of her.

  “Yes, I promise to see you at practice tomorrow,” Kelli said.

  She smiled at Arno and kissed his cheek. Arno tried to smile, but he was so confused that his face sort of bent, and he looked as if someone had just slapped him. Kelli ended the call.

  “Take a shower with me,” she said.

  “Do I have to wait in line?” Arno asked. They glared at each other like a couple who had been going out for all of freshman and sophomore and into junior year.

  “We’re ready when you two are,” Jonathan yelled through the door. “Brunch is on me.”

  “Don’t go,” Arno said to Kelli.

  “Oh, don’t start,” Kelli said.

  Everyone got themselves together and they walked the few blocks over to Bubby’s. They got a table for five against the back wall, where it was cool and bright and the sun shone through special skylights that filtered out the UV rays. Jonathan ordered a pitcher of mimosas.

  “This is nice,” Kelli said. Then she immediately stood up and went over to a table populated by several male actors and introduced herself.

  “There’s something about her, I’d do anything for her,” Arno said as he watched her. From a dozen feet away, they could hear her saying, “You’re going to direct? How cool—I’m thinking of getting into acting.”

  “Ezra’s coming here in half an hour,” David said. “We slam down some eggs Benedict and the mimosas and then we’re out of here.”

  “I told my mom to pack Kelli’s bags,” Jonathan said. “And send them with her mom. Look, Arno, it’s nice that you hooked up with her, but we have absolutely got to get this girl out of town.”

  While they watched, several men at the other table made room for Kelli and she settled in between them. She immediately starting drinking one guy’s Bloody Mary through a straw.

  “I don’t know if we should wait for our food,” David said.

  “Why?” Arno asked.

  Just then a waitress arrived. She was short and her hair was piled high on her head.

  “Hey, Chloe,” Arno said.

  The waitress smiled.

  “I’m sorry I haven’t called you,” Arno said. “If you weren’t on shift, when I got my French toast we could do stuff to each other with the maple syrup.”

  “If you really want to know how good that’d feel,” she said, “ask that one.”

  She gestured at David, who’d been looking at his knees. When it grew quiet, David looked up.

  “Oh, hey,” David said. “We met on Friday night.”r />
  The other guys at the table stared at David.

  “I’m just glad you’re back with Amanda,” Arno said, once the waitress had left. “I sure as hell wouldn’t want to compete for girls with you.”

  “Thanks,” David said. “Hey, look who it is. How are you, man?”

  The four boys turned around and Flan Flood was standing at their table. She was wearing her riding outfit and there was somebody next to her. Adam Rickenbacher.

  “I’m good,” Adam said, and smiled.

  “No,” Jonathan said. He reached for his glass but missed it. And then he was just staring up at Flan and Adam. They were holding hands.

  “Ouch,” Arno said.

  “We’re looking for Patch,” Flan said to everyone at the table but Jonathan, who she cut with her eyes in a way that would serve her well in high school. “He took Fido for a walk this morning and didn’t come back. Have you guys seen him?”

  “I lose sight of Patch for one second,” Jonathan said to Flan, “and you’re standing there with another guy.”

  “I hope there isn’t a problem,” Adam said.

  “No, it’s cool,” Mickey said. “Why don’t you two scoot along. We know where Patch is.”

  Jonathan made a gurgling sound in his throat. Adam and Flan walked out of the restaurant. But then Flan came running back and bent down over Jonathan, who was looking shocked and still hadn’t said anything.

  “I waited and waited, but you wouldn’t make a move,” she said. And then she ran out again.

  None of the other guys said anything. Jonathan really did look sick, like he’d messed up a good thing.

  “That’s for the best,” Arno said. “Anyway, it’s nearly eleven.”

  Outside, Ezra pulled up in the Escalade.

  Arno looked over at the other table. Kelli was doing something that looked like acting for the would-be director. He was taking her picture with a digital camera and she was roaring like a big cat. She pushed aside the bread basket and some plates of eggs and climbed up on the table.

  “Let’s go,” Mickey said.

  “But we haven’t even eaten,” Arno said. His jaw had gone slack and he was staring at Kelli.