I believe him but don’t know why and look around the room to see if Rip, my dealer, is at the party. But I don’t see him and I turn back to Trent and ask, “Yeah? What else have you been doing?”
“Oh, like the usual. Going to Nautilus, getting smashed, going to this Uva place … But, hey, don’t tell anyone I’ve been there, okay?”
“What?”
“I said don’t tell anyone about this Uva place, okay?” Trent looks worried, concerned almost, and I put my hand on his shoulder and give it a squeeze to reassure him. “Oh, yeah, don’t worry.”
“Hey,” he says, looking around the room. “Gotta do a little business. Later. Lunch,” he jokes, leaving.
Daniel comes back with the punch and it’s very red and very strong and I cough a little as I take a swallow. From where I’m standing, I can see Blair’s father, who’s this movie producer and he’s sitting in a corner of the den talking with this young actor I think I went to school with. Blair’s father’s boyfriend is also at the party. His name’s Jared and he’s really young and blond and tan and has blue eyes and incredibly straight white teeth and he’s talking to the three boys from U.S.C. I can also see Blair’s mother, who is sitting by the bar, drinking a vodka gimlet, her hands shaking as she brings the drink to her mouth. Blair’s friend Alana comes into the den and hugs me and I introduce her to Daniel.
“You look just like David Bowie,” Alana, who is obviously coked up out of her mind, tells Daniel. “Are you left-handed?”
“No, I’m afraid not,” Daniel says.
“Alana likes guys who are left-handed,” I tell Daniel.
“And who look like David Bowie,” she reminds me.
“And who live in the Colony,” I finish.
“Oh, Clay, you’re such a beasty,” she giggles. “Clay is a total beasty,” she tells Daniel.
“Yes, I know,” Daniel says. “A beasty. Totally.”
“Have you had any punch? You should have some,” I tell her.
“Darling,” she says, slowly, dramatically. “I made the punch.” She laughs and then spots Jared and stops suddenly. “Oh, God, I wish Blair’s father wouldn’t invite Jared to these things. It makes her mother so nervous. She gets totally bombed anyway, but having him around makes it worse.” She turns to Daniel and says, “Blair’s mother is an agoraphobic.” She looks back at Jared. “I mean he’s going to Death Valley next week on location, I don’t see why he can’t wait until then, can you?” Alana turns to Daniel, then me.
“No,” Daniel says solemnly.
“Me neither,” I say, shaking my head.
Alana looks down and then back at me and says, “You look kind of pale, Clay. You should go to the beach or something.”
“Maybe I will.” I finger the card Trent gave me and then ask her if Julian is going to show up. “He called me and left a message, but I can’t get in touch with him,” I say.
“Oh God, no,” Alana says. “I hear he is like completely f**ked up.”
“What do you mean?” I ask.
Suddenly the three boys from U.S.C. and Jared laugh loudly, in unison.
Alana rolls her eyes up and looks pained. “Jared heard this stupid joke from his boyfriend who works at Morton’s. ‘What are the two biggest lies?’ ‘I’ll pay you back and I won’t come in your mouth.’ I don’t even get it. Oh God, I better go help Blair. Mummy’s going behind the bar. Nice to meet you, Daniel.”
“Yeah, you too,” Daniel says.
Alana walks over to Blair and her mother by the bar.
“Maybe I should have hummed a few bars of ‘Let’s Dance,’ ” Daniel says.
“Maybe you should have.”
Daniel smiles. “Oh Clay, you’re such a total beasty.”
We leave after Trent and one of the boys from U.S.C. fall into the Christmas tree in the living room. Later that night, when the two of us are sitting at the end of the darkened bar at the Polo Lounge, not a whole lot is said.
“I want to go back,” Daniel says, quietly, with effort.
“Where?” I ask, unsure.
There’s a long pause that kind of freaks me out and Daniel finishes his drink and fingers the sunglasses he’s still wearing and says, “I don’t know. Just back.”
My mother and I are sitting in a restaurant on Melrose, and she’s drinking white wine and still has her sunglasses on and she keeps touching her hair and I keep looking at my hands, pretty sure that they’re shaking. She tries to smile when she asks me what I want for Christmas. I’m surprised at how much effort it takes to raise my head up and look at her.
