I didn’t have to scroll very far to find the contact I was looking for. I hit the screen twice before a very familiar voice crackled through the phone.
“Whaddoyouwant?” drowsily slurred out from the phones’ speaker. It was evident that I had woken him up.
“Oi, asshat wake up I got big news, it’s life changing,” I barked into the phone, completely disregarding the tone in my voice. After all, I had been friends with Roman since I bumped into him in the line to get pizza after school one day in the 3rd grade. In response, all I heard was grumbling and the sound of sheets moving around on the bed. It was 1 in the afternoon and my friend had just woken up.
“Where are you anyway? Must be somewhere nice given you are bloody talking without a care in the world,” Roman was now starting to shed the dreamy tone in his words.
“This place? It’s a fucking dump mate,” and with that I kicked the door to his bedroom open. “But you can see that first hand can’t you?” I asked, grinning over the sprawled body of my best friend, who only gave me a very rude gesture in return.
Roman glared as he stood up, stretching out his 6’3” frame. He looked, even in his disheveled state, like a wealthy bachelor. His hair fell down to his eyes in a casual elegance I could only have ever hoped for, while his face had just the right amount of stubble.
“I knew giving you a key was a bad idea,” he muttered. With that, he hopped off the mattress on the ground he was using as his bed, and began to pick up the least smelly clothes from the piles that lay around his room.
“So what is this big life changing news that you have for me?” Roman asked, his tone so level I could balance a book on it.
“I met a girl.”
“Asshole, you woke me up for that?”he grumbled, “You meet a new girl every day. And it’s always the same damn routine. You meet her, you flirt, she makes a move, you get too attached, and then she runs away. You mope about, we get super shitty, you puke, you tell me that you love her and then you are fine in a few days.”
Ok, so he might have had a point but still, this girl was special. For real. And so I told him about the girl and the newsstand.
“You said the same thing about the last girl, and the one before that, and the one before that,” he moved into his kitchen. For a man living alone, he certainly had a really nice apartment. The benefits of having money were bountiful I suppose. “So anyway, what makes this one special, and what’s her name?” he asked as he poured corn flakes into a cereal bowl. Roman was probably the only reason Corn Flakes were still made at all. He was also the only person I know that eats them and was born after 1965. “So ignoring the fact that you rudely woke me without any true reason to do so, what do you have planned for today? Another day at the rat race? And why aren’t you there now?”
“Go to hell, old man, not all of us were gifted a massive inheritance by our rich grandparents. Also, I took a half day,” I chided him, though thoroughly good natured.
Roman grinned wolfishly: “I’ll have you know that I earned that inheritance. How many 12 year olds went to the Met Gala? I was used as a prop by my old, loony family to show that they were not insane,” He professed dramatically. Roman may have had odd mannerisms but it was definitely the product of his upbringing. His parents died when he was young, so he was raised by his grandparents, a slightly odd old couple. They were old-school in every sense of the word. Roman once told me that he learned how to tie a bow tie before he learned how to tie his shoes. I scoffed at that though. I had never seen him with a tie on in my entire life at that point. The Met thing was true, though he was never invited back. Apparently, placing a whoopee cushion on the chair of the Chairman of the Board for the Met was not a good idea, making him one of the few individuals who have received a lifelong ban from the Met. When his grandparents died, he inherited the whole family estate. But he was a good friend and chose to slum it with me in a public college (gasp!) insistent on leaving his own luxurious past lifestyle behind him. Roman never managed to shake off certain aspects of what he was brought up like however. Rather than find a normal job, he was now a “writer,” meaning he wrote stories that no one would read, drink too much alcohol, smoke pot, and partied when he felt like it. In short the best friend I could ask for.
“But yes, the rat race is where I am off to. Nothing equals the celebration of falling in love as corporate America,” I deadpanned. Everything is better than corporate America.
“Before you go, are we still on for tonight? Cause otherwise Sam and Nik will be pissed if you cancel again,” Roman asked, keeping a spoon of peanut butter hovering in front of his mouth, his eyes glinting with legitimate curiosity about my plans, eyebrow thoughtfully cocked up.
“Yea, I’ll be there, where are we even going anyway?” I responded.
“The same spot as usual, and it’s your turn to buy drinks, so you kind of have to turn up.”
“Yea, I know. I’ll be there,” and with that, I turned the knob, and left the room.
By the time I got out of the office and to the bar the sun was scorching the sky as it set, staining it pink and orange. I pulled my earbuds out of my ear, cutting off the chorus of the Kanye song as I pushed open the wooden door of the bar. I quickly scanned the scene in front of me. At the large wooden counter in the center of the bar, Harry, the grizzled old bartender was pouring out a shot of whiskey for an equally grizzled man sitting on one of the barstools. The tables that were spread out around the room were sparsely occupied, occasionally, a few older gents sat nursing a pint of beer, and talking in small muted discussions amongst one another. The back shelf carried a large spread of liquors, though the bottles all looked to be half empty. Along the back wall, booths were laid out, their linoleum seats empty exposing their upholstery. That is except a corner booth, which was occupied by the only people young enough to not have fought in Vietnam. I smiled, somethings never change.
I walked over towards our usual spot and gave my customary greeting and wave to Harry. Harry gave his customary grunt in acknowledgement and turned to prepare my customary rum and coke, and Roman was customarily talking the ear off of Sam and Nik
“What’s he going on about?” I asked as I slipped into the booth next to Nik. Sam was looking like he was about to pass out. Nik kept nudging him in the side to keep him from nodding off. All of us learned that the worst thing to do when Roman talked was to fall asleep. He would wake you up, often for a convoluted plan that would result in being banned from an establishment. It was the aftermath of one of Roman’s elaborate ‘wake up methods’ that we found Harry’s in the first place. In a sense of acceptance completely unexpected, Harry had allowed us in at 9:30 on a Wednesday, despite that all 4 of us were covered in ash, glitter in our hair, and feathers sticking out of Nik’s ear and a feather boa tied around Sammy’s neck like a leash.
“Ted Cruz as the Zodiac Killer,” Sammy barked, taking a long yawn and a longer sip of his Old-Fashioned.
“Ah yes, a classic theory. Thanks Harry,” I replied, as Harry slid my drink along the length of the table.
“It’s more than just theory! It can be proven. What’s his alibi?” Roman exclaimed. He was far more awake than he was when I saw him this morning. “I’m glad you could finally join us. You weren’t going to be entranced by the trap of corporate greed?”
“For fucks sake Caligula, it was one day I missed. One.”
“Wow, resorting to name calling, are you? I see how it is Gordon Gekko.”
“Real clever you are huh? Well tell me-”
“Both of you shut the fuck up” Sam growled. We did in fact ‘shut the fuck up.’ It was silent for a few minutes, the only sound was the clinking of glasses on the tables, the muted conversations of the old men and the shuffle of Harry’s feet from behind the bar. I reveled in the silence. It felt like a cocoon that kept me all wrapped up, safe from the world moving around me. Until Roman broke it.
“So Jay,” he asked wolfishly, demanding the attention of our quartet, “What about this girl you are in love with?”
Sammy and Nik groaned, Nik even banging his head on the table muttering about how this escapade better go over better than the last time.
“Oh fuck off mate, I had coffee with her. I had a good time. I only slightly exaggerated the extent of my emotional attachment to this girl,” I said, trying to keep my face neutral. Though I had a distinct feeling I was not successful. As I thought about her, I could feel the corners of my mouth turn upwards.
“So what does she look like?” Sam asked, tone neutral. But his eyes were gleaming with interest which only could spell trouble.
“Pretty fantastic, think toned down Sandra Dee,” I said, smirking at the visual recall. The bell chimed from the door of the bar. None of us looked up, except Roman. What he saw must have excited him, because he bounded up to the bar. Only one thing could have attracted Roman like that. We turned to face the bar. Roman was suavely walking up to where a girl stood, waiting for Harry to return from wherever he went. My ears were tuned into hear what this would end up being. The entire bar seemed focused in on the situation at hand. Harry’s didn’t see many non-regulars enter, and it generally wasn’t a girl. The most you saw of a woman in Harry’s was when Harry’s redheaded wife came in and lectured him for not taking enough time to relax from his work schedule. He growled, she stared back at him, and he broke and said he would ease up. The next day, Harry would be back, and his schedule wouldn’t change at all.
Roman had approached the bar. Sam and Nik stayed behind at the booth, but I was too interested in how this would play out, so I moved to one of the unoccupied tables closer to the bar and took a seat.
“So, what does a pretty thing like you do that makes you venture into a place like this?” Roman asked, smoothly, shooting the girl a wolfish grin.
“Well I was hoping to just get a drink. But you certainly seem to be just as good of an option,” the girl stated, facing Roman and smiling a thousand-watt smile back at him. She leaned forward, and flipped her long black hair over her shoulder. As she placed her hand on his bicep, I quickly lost interest and started to head back to the table. Roman sealing the deal was far too regular to be interesting any more. I heard the door open again, but it swung shut quickly. It must have been another person who entered unwittingly. I headed back to the booth.
“Em, we have to go: now!” another voice had entered Harry’s. Another female voice, and it certainly wasn’t Harry’s wife. This was really becoming quite the day. I turned, and the girl Roman was talking to, Emmy, apparently had turned to face her friend, who had her back to the booth.
“But I’m talking to Roman here,” Emmy whined, stressing Roman’s name, hoping that her friend would relent in her efforts to what appeared to drag Emmy out of the bar.
“Roman huh? Unfortunately, your night is now going much like your namesake empire. It is now collapsing before you,” this girl was witty, I liked that.
Roman laughed. “Oi sellout,” he shouted to the booth, calling me. “This girl made a joke as shitty as yours!” he chuckled.
“Fuck off, my jokes are funny!” I claimed, turning to face Roman and the two girls.
“To be honest, if all your jokes are like that, I wouldn’t say you were funny at all. I am in poor form currently,” the new girl claimed, turning her head towards me.
I froze the moment I got a glance of her entire profile. I saw her eyes widen in recognition.
“Danny Zuko,” she said, curtly.
“Sandra Dee,” I responded, smiling.
“Mia?” Emmy questioned.
Roman was too busy howling in laughter as he quickly became aware of what had just occurred.
“What the fuck is going on?” I heard Nik ask Sam. But it was Roman who responded.
“This is the girl he met!” he choked out in between his fit of giggles.
“Telling your friends about me?” Mia questioned, eyebrow raised, her mouth in a thin line, though one side looked like it was beginning to turn up.
“I don’t think you did,” I shot back, still grinning. Emmy looked confused at what was going on, shooting glances between Mia and I, as well as Roman, who had now fallen to the ground in laughter, and Sam and Nik had started to laugh as well.
“Ok, that’s it!” Emmy remarked. She grabbed Mia’s forearm, and started to pull her towards the door, the whole way muttering darkly under her breath: “Honestly Mia, you drag me away from what might have been the hottest man I have ever seen before, but the moment you see some guy, you get stuck in place. I mean honestly Roman, Mia. His name was Roman!” Mia just mumbled inaudibly in agreement, gave me a fleeting wave and headed out behind her friend.
I turned back to my friends. I couldn’t shake the smile off my face.
“She is pretty,” Roman said, wiping away tears from his face, a tad dramatically. Though his whole life was lived dramatically.
“Go to hell” I responded good-naturedly.
“You haven’t stopped smiling,” Sam remarked, evenly, looking at me calculatingly. Suddenly, his eyes widened, and turned to Nik. Nik looked back with equal horror.
“Oh god!” Sammy remarked, “Oh god no!”
“What?” Roman demanded, “Whats going on?”
“He really likes her,” Nik said quietly. Roman’s eyes opened wide, and matched the look of horror that apparently was in fashion for our little quartet.
“Guys, you all need to relax,” I said turning to the bar to get my drink refilled. From the bar, I could hear them whisper, glance at me, and whisper some more, obviously planning on how to handle this new ‘crisis.’ I heard someone thump their head on the table, and in a carrying whisper remark:
“Well, we are in for some shit now, aren’t we?”
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