Break Every Rule (10 page)

“Because it would worry me, too. But nothing happened!”

I felt my shoulders relax a bit, but then Rob added:

“They were just insanely attracted to each other, that is all.”

My impulse was to run, but here was Rob, and he was giving me information. Information I really needed. “Do you think he—they—might… again?” I said.

Rob looked left and right, as though someone might be listening in on our conversation. Which was ridiculous, of course. My mom had had all the walls reinforced three years ago, so she wouldn't have to listen to my brother and me playing loud music, not to mention that she wouldn't care about this chat—not at all.

“Jonathan, I really shouldn't say…”

I nodded. Of course he wasn't going to say. He was David's friend, after all. “I gotta go,” I said, moving to the door. “To meet Flan. Take as long as you want, really.”

I backed into the door, and reached for the knob. What was that look he was giving me? Was it guilt? He said: “But be careful of your feelings, brother Jon, I don't want you to get hurt.”

When I got to the Floods' place, I tried to call Flan, but she didn't pick up. I went up to her room, but she wasn't there, so I wandered out to the
backyard, where I found Patch cooking tuna steaks.

It was a lovely twilight time of day, and that nice smoky cooking smell filled the backyard.

“Hey, man,” he said. He reached his hand out for a behind the back high five. “You hungry?”

“Um, Patch? What are you doing?” None of my guys cook, unless making sandwiches or dialing Odeon counts. The Wildenburgers, Pardos, and Floods (at least when they're in Connecticut) all have personal cooks; the Grobarts have Zabars deliver prepared foods to their apartment four times a week, and my mom has Zone meals come to our place three times a day and lets me order in whatever I want.

“Cooking.” Patch flipped one of the pieces of fish. “There's rice and soy-lime marinade, too,” he added.

“But
why are
you cooking?” I took a can of Asahi from the six-pack sitting on the picnic table.

Patch seemed to be seriously considering my question for a minute. “I guess I wanted to try something new. My parents were supposed to be coming down from the country today, but they canceled. And Flan had to stay at school for an algebra study session because she has a test
tomorrow. February is upstairs. Maybe she'll want some. But there's plenty for you.”

“Actually, I'm going over to Freeman's a little later. With Flan, I think. Hey, are you okay?”

There was definitely something weird going on with Patch. I took a sip of the beer and wondered what it could be, and also why Flan hadn't told me that she had a test to study for. Maybe David was skipping basketball practice…. I wondered if she was really still at school.

“I guess I'm having one of those moments where I don't really know why I should be excited about life, you know?” Patch flipped another piece of fish, and then the other three. He cracked a can of Asahi, too. “Like, I feel like I'm always looking for something to want and need, but nothing can really hold my attention that long. I was thinking today how, when we were in the Mediterranean, everything was cool, know what I mean? Just hanging out with you guys and Greta. And it made me want seafood.”

Greta was this girl Patch hooked up with on that cruise ship. I think he really liked her, but she lives in California.

I am not proud of what I did next. But Patch is not a needy guy. Things are easy for him, and I have
just never known him to be depressed. But I was pretty depressed right then, too, so I did what I had to. I changed the subject back to me:

“Hey, does Flan really have a test tomorrow?”

“Yeah, why?”

“I just feel bad I didn't know,” I lied.

“Anyway,” Patch said, giving me a weird look, “I just keep doing new things and it all seems old already.” He lifted the tuna steaks off the grill and put them onto a big dish. Then he put two of them on plates, drizzled marinade across them, and gave each a clump of rice. “Just try this, okay?” He handed me one of the plates, and sat down. Then he continued, “I'm just trying to figure out what it's all about, you know?”

I took a bite of the fish, and to my total surprise, it was really good. Shockingly, celebrity-chef good. “Maybe you should start a restaurant?”

“Nah, cooking's boring. I mean, how do people get so excited about something you have to do three times a day for the rest of your life? It sucks.” Patch sighed.

“Yeah, I don't get people,” I said. “I mean, do you understand how Arno could be chosen for Hottest Private School Boy? He's so obvious. I mean, that Justine lady told me… I mean, it
seemed
like she was telling me that they wanted me. And then… the world just doesn't make sense sometimes, you know?”

“Yeah, like that Justine person is so incredibly concerned with stupid shit. It's like everything has to be reduced to little bite-size pieces, and…”

I think Patch was just trying to make me feel better. Which was nice, considering he seemed seriously bummed. But I couldn't help being distracted by the idea of Flan and David. After all, they were probably at this very minute meeting in secret in some terribly cool place that only Arno and his entourage could get into. She was probably being very cozy and sweet to him, the way she used to be with me. And why not? I hadn't even been to Ginger, and who knew if I would be able to get us into Freeman's tonight.

Patch was still saying something about that Justine person.

“Do you think some friend of the Wildenburgers' is editor-in-chief at
New York
or something?” I interrupted. “I mean, maybe Justine did pick me, but then they had to change it because of some insider politics.”

Patch was shaking his head. “J, it doesn't matter. Can't you see that?”

“But it
does
matter,” I said. I couldn't even believe I was saying these things—this was not my usual good friend persona coming through—but I couldn't help it. I just kept hammering away.

“How? Give me one example,” Patch said.

“Well…” I took a deep breath, and came clean: “I think… I think… maybe David and Flan are having an affair.”

Patch shook his head, this time with a little laugh, but I kept on going. “I know it's not totally related, but now he's friends with Arno, and Arno's hot, so his friends are hot. I just think, maybe David can do more for her at this point than I can, or at least, maybe it seems that way.”

“But David isn't
Arno's
friend—we're all
friends,
right? And besides, what would make you think that Flan is interested in David
at all
?”

“I was just talking to Rob, and…”

Patch dropped his fork on his plate like I had just said a bad word and like we were people who got offended by bad words. He got very intense all of a sudden, and said, “Listen carefully: Hottest Private School Boy is one big, bad, trumped-up lie. And Rob is, too.”

Arno was sitting in front of Café Gitane wearing sunglasses and sipping rosé. Next to him was Mimi, hiding under huge black Prada sunglasses and Arno's white Sean John blazer, which was draped over her shoulders. Even though it was a stunningly warm spring afternoon, she had seemed to really want to wear his jacket.

Since Monday, they had hooked up five times. That was two days ago, so they were getting to know each other pretty fast.

Everyone who walked by them on Mott Street waved and giggled and wondered aloud if that was “really him.” A few of the girls put down their big white shopping bags and asked for Arno's autograph. He was loving every minute of it.

“Ah, for a little peace and quiet,” Arno said, after a few Florence underclassmen had finally left. He made a big fake yawning noise and stretched his arms over his head.

“I know, baby,” she sighed, leaning over and snuggling
him sympathetically. He couldn't be sure, but she seemed not to have gotten that he was kidding.

A car pulled up, and a balding guy in what looked like a safari jacket leaned out of the driver's seat and started snapping pictures of them.

“More paparazzi!” Arno said in disbelief. It was absurd, but kind of funny, too.

“Get lost!” Mimi shrieked. She didn't seem to see the humor in this little episode, either.

“Hey, I'm just an average guy, nothing exciting, right?” Arno said nonchalantly to the guy with the camera. He didn't really think he was an average guy, but it was hotter to shrug off his new celebrity and its encroachment on his privacy than to get all pissy about it, or to act too flattered.

“Come on, Arno!” the guy said, and so Arno mugged good-naturedly for him a few times. The guy thanked him, and then the car pulled away. A few minutes later, Rob and David came walking down the street. David was carrying big shopping bags, and Rob had a huge cheesy smile on his face. They all slapped hands hello, and sat down. Mimi just waved, because by that point she was on her cell phone.

“So what's on for tonight?” Arno asked. David shrugged. “Man, do
not
be a mope. We're going out, right?”

“Sure,” David said, “I just bought all new clothes so that I could, you know, feel comfortable in clubs and stuff. So I have to go out for that reason alone.”

“How could we not go out? We always go out!” Rob added loudly. “I was thinking we start at Freeman's, you know, keep it downtown. Then Lit maybe? So important you don't lose your downtown cred, so I am thinking we go there.”

“Cool,” Arno said. He took another sip of his cold pink wine. Mimi ended her call and whispered in Arno's ear that she had to go home and change for tonight. He told her that was cool, too, and she blew into his ear. Then she handed his blazer back.

“I'm going to catch a cab on Houston,” she said, and wiggled her fingers at David and Rob. All three of them watched as her shiny exercised legs carried her swiftly up Mott. Mimi did not seem to have a lot of skirts that went below mid-thigh.

“So, you two…?” Rob asked, pumping his eyebrows annoyingly.

“Cut it,” Arno said. Why was Rob annoying him so much today?

“She's hot, that's all!” Rob giggled.

“So what did you get?” Arno asked David.

David proudly showed him this orange Perry Ellis blazer and the Diesel jeans he'd gotten, as well as some
faded designer T-shirts he'd found at this consignment store called Ina. “Nice, right?”

Arno snorted instinctively, but he was actually glad that David was cooling out a little bit. “Nice choices,” he said.

David looked relieved by Arno's approval, and then relieved again that they didn't have to talk fashion anymore; the waitress had appeared at their table. Rob ordered a bottle of “whatever Arno's drinking” and some olives. When she had served them and disappeared again, he put his elbows on the table and clasped his hands. “So… have you given any thought to the Hot Boy party?”

Arno popped an olive in his mouth.

“Rob, I'm not sure it's such a hot idea.”

“Arno, baby, don't be so brash. Let us celebrate you!”

A group of girls walked by and, bizarrely, did
not
notice Arno. David looked after them in a weird way, like he recognized them but wasn't sure.

“I really don't know if I have time these days. I don't even have time to return my calls, you know what I mean?”

Rob nodded understandingly.

“I mean, this whole Hottest Private School Boy thing is great, don't get me wrong. I wouldn't trade it for the world. But it's a lot of responsibility, too, and you guys
can't even get with that.” Arno smiled to himself, like he thought of a really good joke. “It's like I'd need an
intern
just to manage my social calendar.”

“That's
it
!” Rob exclaimed. “That's what we do! I be your intern. Hottest Private Intern.” He put on a very sober face and added, “It would be an honor.”

“You're going to be my intern?” Arno asked. Sometimes, it was really hard not to pity Rob—he so obviously didn't get the meaning of Intern. Arno shrugged and said, “Why not. You're hired.”

“Bravo! As your intern, my first order of business is getting this party together. It's going to be this Saturday, which is very soon, but luckily I've already started making arrangements. There will be the flyering to do, of course, and the beer…”

“Rob. I don't have the time, remember? So I don't even want to know,” Arno said, laughing. God, he was in a good mood today. It was like everything was just funny to him. “Don't ask, don't tell, okay?”

“Of course, Jefe.” Rob lit a cigarette, and crossed his legs. He looked extremely pleased with himself. David looked up and down the street, like he didn't quite know where he fit in to all this.

Across the street, a group of girls who went to Potterton were pointing and gasping at Arno. One of them looked like she was about to faint.

“Duty calls,” Arno said. He loosened his shoulders, stood up, and strode across the street to sign the girls' T-shirts.

David still looked distracted, and he was being a little quiet and introspective. Rob seemed to notice this, and he leaned over and put his arm around David's shoulder.

“You didn't want to be intern, did you?” Rob said.

“Um…,” David said.

“Okay, I am intern, but you can be… assistant. Yay! David the assistant. Not as good, but still good, right?”

Rob exhaled a nice cloud of smoke into David's ear, and then turned around to watch the group of girls going crazy over their idol. As he watched and smoked, he seemed to be muttering something about a gold mine underneath his breath.