Hold On Tight (19 page)

“Oh, I'd really like to,” Ava said quickly, “but I'm going upstate this afternoon to visit Sarah Lawrence. My sister goes there, and I think it might be a really good place for me to go for college. But, could we maybe … I mean, was it just tonight, the documentary, or …?”

“No, I don't really care about the documentary. I mean, I do
care
about the documentary. But really I'd just like to hang out with you sometime.”

Ava smiled. “Okay.”

“It's funny, because I was actually thinking about going to Sarah Lawrence this weekend.” Man, that sounded like a lie. I smiled goofily.

“Oh really? Yeah, I'm seriously considering going there. Right now, it's between Reed, Oberlin, and Sarah Lawrence for me. But Sarah Lawrence
has all these neat programs, like a Friday Night Cinema club. I think I'm going to check that out tonight. And you know it's William and Sarah Lawrence's old private estate, so there's a certain charm there.”

“Yeah, I heard about that from my friend …”

I was about to tell her about Mickey when my cell phone went off in my pocket. It was ODB's “Got Your Number,” which meant that it was the devil himself.

“Hey, dude,” I said.

“Why aren't you here?” Mickey yelled.

“I'm …” I was about to explain, when I saw Lily Maynard charging at us through the garden. She was definitely coming in our direction and with a purpose. “I'll call you right back, okay?”

Lily stopped awkwardly when she saw Ava and me together. She was wearing her usual polar fleece jacket and these flared jeans that looked all wrong on her. If you've ever knelt in the dirt with someone, then you know it feels incriminating even when it isn't. “What's up?” I said guiltily. Why the hell was I feeling guilty? Then Lily laid it out for me.

“Jonathan, I've been thinking, about this whole Ted thing—and if he's taken, then maybe—I mean,
if you wanted to—maybe
we
should go out?” she laughed awkwardly. “I mean, if I can't have the older brother, then …”

That was like an electric shock of freak the fuck out. It sent me to my feet. “Um, actually, I just talked to Ted last night about you. Turns out he just broke up with his girlfriend and he's always had a crush on
you!”

Who was this maniac speaking through my body? Why was I trying to sabotage my brother? Ava was staring up at me like she was deeply confused. Damn, she had big, pretty eyes.

“Really?” Lily said. Her face was all sunshine now.

“Yeah, in fact, I have a phone date with him that I'm late for … to, you know, discuss his chances with you. See you later!” I waved at Lily and Ava, who were both staring at me in total confusion, and then I bolted right out of that community garden.

The first thing Arno knew was that he hadn't gone to bed until very, very late. The second was that the bed he was lying in was unfamiliar. Also, there were potted plants all along the windowsill just under where the light came slicing in.

Next to him, on the unfamiliar pillow, was a great mass of curling, golden hair. Arno picked up a pile of it and remembered where he was. He felt a smile spread across his face and a sudden urge to get out and seize his first day as a
real
grown-up. He had spent the night with Gabby. They had stayed up late talking and laughing and maybe even … falling in love. Mission accomplished.

“What's the matter, sugarplum, you all ready to run out?” Gabby said without looking up.

“What time do you think it is?”

“Way past first period.”

Arno sat up and stretched. “Nice apartment,” he said.

“You saw it last night, funny face.”

Arno realized that was true, and nodded in agreement. The apartment was a big studio with high, black tin ceilings and a wall of exposed brick with a fireplace. There were several dress dummies in various corners, and one whole wall was covered with hanging hats.

Gabby rolled out of bed and went to put a kettle on the stove. She was wearing peach pajama shorts and a pajama top, and her hair seemed to catch every ray of light in the room.

“It's just really …” Arno flopped back in bed and tried to think of how to describe the place. “It's really, uh,
real
I guess.”

Gabby smiled at him. “And I
really
live here! What a coincidence.”

“Man, what time did we get home last night?”

Gabby shook her head at him and put her hands on her hips. “You called from the bar last night at like two-thirty. Me? I was just home, washing my hair. This behavior is enough to make me think you aren't really in love with me.”

“Huh?”

Gabby was distracted by the kettle blowing, so she just gave him a mysterious smile and went back to the stove. She poured two cups of Irish Breakfast with milk and brought them over to the bed. She sat down next to Arno and kissed his cheek. Then she pigeon-toed her
feet. “So … I know of a roof party tonight. I think it's going to be really gorgeous and clear today, so …”

Arno realized he was having trouble seeing straight, so he started focusing and refocusing his eyes. For a minute he thought what he was feeling might be early-onset heart disease, but then he realized that it was actually a yearning for something far away. But he had definitely done it now. He had been in love with somebody else, and he felt sure that if he found Lara now, she would let him be in love with her.

And today was the day he was going to Sarah Lawrence.

“Are you okay?” Gabby said. “If you don't want to go to the party …”

“No, the party's fine,” Arno said, standing up and pulling on his pants. He tried not to look at Gabby as he buttoned his black, slim-fitting collared shirt. “I'll call you, okay?”

She grabbed his wrist and pulled him so that he bent down and kissed her on the mouth. Incredibly, she still tasted like artificial watermelon.

“See you,” Arno called as he was reaching the door. Then he hustled down six flights of stairs and over to Mickey's house.

“Where are you? Naw, I think my cellie's screwed up. Would you just get over here?” Mickey gestured at Arno, who was pouring various liquids into a martini shaker, that he wanted one, too. Mickey was still wearing the white terry-cloth robe. “Because it's my lecture weekend. And Sarah Lawrence sent the limo. We're in it. So you'll be here? Soon? That soon? Okay, bye.”

“Jonathan?” Arno asked, shaking the martinis and nodding toward the phone.

“Yeah, I thought he said he was
gardening
for a minute.” They both laughed.

Mickey peered through the window of the limo and saw his father, who was sitting on the steps and glaring. He was chewing on the stump of a cigar and playing with a ball of clay.

“Your dad still raw about your newfound celebrity?”

“Yeah, he won't really talk to me.”

“He'll get over it when he realises he's just being a
sore loser,” Arno took a sip of his martini. “You know my dad says they've had calls from collectors about your work? People who used to be desperate to collect your dad's stuff.” The Wildenburger Gallery had represented Ricardo's work since before Arno and Mickey were born.

“Really?”

“Yeah, I wasn't supposed to tell you. They're working out the kinks before they come to you with an offer. But just don't let the whole Ricardo thing bother you, you know what I mean?”

“Cheers to that,” Mickey said. They clinked glasses.

Around the time they were making their second round of martinis, there was a knock on the window. Mickey rolled it down. “Yes?”

“Wow. No more puny rides from friends for you, huh?” Jonathan said.

“Pretty sweet, right?” Mickey opened the door. “Get in, man.”

Jonathan crawled in. “Well, there's a lot more leg room in here than in the Mercedes, it's got that going for it,” he said, settling into one of the plush bench seats.

“Man, you really
were
gardening.”

“Yeah.” Jonathan looked down at the brown spots on his knees and elbows and smiled. “I planted heirloom tomatoes.”

“Do you need a change of clothes? I mean, we really gotta get this show on the road.”

Jonathan shrugged. “Nah, it's cool. You don't mind, do you?”

“I don't mind, but
you
do,” Mickey cackled. Then he got on the intercom and told the driver to hit it.

“So where are Patch and David?”

Arno grinned. “Man, you didn't hear about David? He's got a new girlfriend. You remember SBB? Sara-Beth Benny? The official policy is, we just leave him alone and let him enjoy it.”

“SBB?” Jonathan asked. “You think that's a good idea?”

“Yes.
Hell
yes. She's
hot.”

“And now that you mention it … I haven't seen Patch in a while,” Mickey said.

“Well, it is Patch we're talking about here …,” Arno said, tossing his martini glass over his shoulder and switching to Bud Light.

“Thanks for reminding me about your lecture,” Jonathan said, accepting a Bud Light from Arno. “I feel like a jerk for missing your last one. And Sarah Lawrence—I mean, what a coincidence.” Jonathan smiled faintly to himself.

“Yeah,” Arno agreed, smiling not so faintly. “It feels like fate, doesn't it?”

They all paused for a moment as the limo sailed uptown on the West Side highway, trying to locate just what the tug of fate feels like. Then, abruptly, the limo stopped.

Mickey got on the intercom. “What's the problem, Joey?”

“Must have been an accident, Mr. Mickey. Highway's blocked up far as I can see.”

“Well, fine. Okay. Can't we just drive over all those people or something?”

“Hey, Mickey,” Jonathan said. “Don't stress so much. Sarah Lawrence is like half an hour a way.”

“How do you know?”

“At the community garden I met this girl whose older sister goes to Sarah Lawrence, and—”

“You know what J? You're right. I'm not going to stress so much. Arno, man, would you open another bottle of beer for me?”

Mickey rolled down his window and sucked in some breeze. That was when all of their cell phones buzzed simultaneously.

“New text,” Jonathan said, taking his phone out of his pocket.

“You too?” Mickey said.

“Yeah,” Arno said, flipping open his phone. “It's an S.O.S.”

“You need to come get me
now,”
David said into his cell phone as he hurried up Hudson.

“We'd come back downtown,” Jonathan said. “Except right now we're kind of stalled in traffic on the West Side Highway.”

“Really? Where at?”

“Um, just before the Seventy-second Street exit. Listen, what's this about?”

“Okay, don't go anywhere, okay?”

“David, I don't think—” David put his phone back in his pocket and waved his arms wildly at a passing taxi.

“I need you to take me to Seventy-second and Broadway as fast as humanly possible,” David said. The driver gave him an irritated look in the mirror, but David just kept talking. “Take the streets. There's a traffic jam on the highway.”

The driver took off up the avenues, and to David's amazement they hit a string of green lights that carried them nearly fifty blocks in no time. At the corner of
Seventy-second and Broadway, David tossed the guy a twenty and bolted.

David jogged down the hill and by the time he passed through the dog park before the highway, he was at a full run. A small dog yelped at him and then was restrained by its leash. David ran on, trying not to think of the utter stupidity of what he was about to do, and more about his dire need to be far, far away from Manhattan. It didn't take him long to reach his destination.

At Seventy-second he took one cautious look up the exit ramp, and after determining that there were no crazy drivers coming down toward him, he made a dash toward the roadway, hanging as close to the safety wall as he could.

When he made it up to the roadway, he saw that the traffic was indeed stalled and dense, with only a few cars moving a couple of inches at a time. But there was a breeze up there, and he could smell the Hudson. David felt sort of vulnerable and crazy, but also exhilarated, like he was the hero in a movie and he'd just outrun bad men driving Hummers.

He looked south but couldn't see the yellow Mercedes. A car horn blared ahead of him on the highway, and he followed its direction. A big, shiny white limo caught his eye. He paused, and the horn blared again, setting off all the other horns on all the cars on the
highway. In the middle of the cacophony, Jonathan stepped out of the limo. “David! We're over here!”

David turned and trotted in the direction of the limo. Soon he was inside of it, where the AC was blasting and the drinks were cold.

“What happened to you?” Jonathan said. David stared at Jonathan and tried to figure out what was going on—his friend's hair was all tousled, and his clothes were rumpled, and he appeared to have several grass stains on his clothes.

“You want a beer?” Arno passed him a beer.

“Thanks, man. Are you guys still going to Sarah Lawrence?”

“No, we're just sitting in traffic for kicks,” Mickey said. “Of course we're going to Sarah Lawrence. It's my lecture, yo.”

“I know, I know,” David said. “And now I can come.”

“What
happened
to you?” Jonathan asked.

David took a swig of beer. Someone's phone was ringing. After a minute they realized it was Jonathan's. He held up his index finger and answered the phone with a low, “This is Jonathan.”

“So where's SBB?” Mickey asked.

“Oh, man. It's too crazy to even …”