5
Magic Mirrors
Since it was reasonably close to Sunny Side, we decided to walk to Ruby Redd’s Brewing Company, the touristy West Village restaurant where Peter Steele worked. Yale wanted us both to have at least an hour to stare at the Most Beautiful Man You Will Ever See in Your Life before we were due in at the Space, so we were running a little late on his clock. My friend moved fast to begin with, and since the eleven inches he had on me was almost all leg, I was jogging to keep up.
I hadn’t shown Yale the defaced valentine. I figured he’d probably make up more excuses about crazy bar queens and I wasn’t ready to hear them, wasn’t ready to talk about it at all.
‘So what exactly
does
Peter look like?’
Yale responded with dependable creativity. And as he described the waiter’s ‘lethal’ abs, ‘ergonomic’ bone structure and lips ‘that would be considered a delicacy in most countries,’ I did my best to picture him. But, hard as I tried, my mind replaced each of Yale’s images with these: mirrored eyes staring at the back of my head, a man’s hand clutching a pencil.
It was a good thing I was no longer hungover, because the interior of Ruby Redd’s Brewing Company was nearly more overpowering than my classroom.
‘There’s so much red,’ I said, staring at all of it. Red-and-white checkered tablecloths, tiny bunches of red carnations at the center of every table in red glass vases, brass ceiling lamps with red Tiffany-style shades, red vinyl booths facing red wooden chairs. ‘I mean, okay, Ruby Redd’s. We get the point. It’s like
The Shining
in here.’
The waiters wore red-and-white checkered bow ties that matched the tablecloths and red butchers’ aprons that matched nearly everything else. All of them looked cute enough to be on a TV commercial, though none was exactly ready for the
Galleria dell’Accademia
.
I watched my friend’s face as he scanned the room for Peter Steele, but his expression remained neutral, his baby-blue eyes darkened. ‘Do you think he was lying about working here?’ he asked.
‘Who would lie about being a waiter at Ruby Redd’s Brewing Company?’
Yale and I sat on two crimson counter stools, and a young waiter with spiky burgundy hair and a red name tag that said ‘Tredwell’ approached us.
‘Hi, Tredwell,’ Yale said as he accepted two long, rectangular menus encased in cherry velveteen. ‘Did you color your hair to match the restaurant or vice versa?’
‘Huh?’
‘Never mind. We’re looking for Peter Steele?’
‘You guys are friends of Peter’s?’ Tredwell said.
Yale exhaled audibly. ‘He does work here.’
‘Yeah. His shift doesn’t start ’til later, though.’
We decided to stay anyway. I hadn’t eaten a thing since before I’d puked, and I realized I was starving. I ordered my typical posthangover meal: a cheddar omelet with a side of bacon, buttered rye toast and black coffee.
Yale gave me a disdainful look and pointedly asked for grilled vegetables and green tea.
‘Oh, I never shared my other lovely news,’ I said, after the waiter walked away. ‘You remember Nate, don’t you?’ I whipped the
Post
out of my bag and placed the entertainment section in front of Yale as Tredwell returned with our steaming red mugs.
Yale stared at the article. ‘You have
got
to be kidding.’
‘Stupid, huh?’
Yale jerked his tea bag up and down, up and down. ‘Well . . . it’s not as if he’s on Broadway.’
‘No. He’s making more money than that.’
‘How’d you two kids like some cream with your coffee and tea?’ asked Tredwell.
‘He cheated on you with a man and a woman!’
Yale was inadvertently using his stage voice, and I could feel customers turning to stare at us, or, rather, at me.
‘Could you possibly keep it down?’
‘Nathan Gundersen bisexually cheated on you and he gets to make more money than the emcee in
Cabaret
? What the fuck kind of karma is that?’
‘Tell me about it.’
‘Well,’ he said. ‘There is more to life than just making money as some flash-in-the-pan, so-called “hunk” on an inconsequential daytime soap opera.’
‘You guys know Nate Gundersen?’ Tredwell said.
Yale ignored him. ‘The minute that ass drops - and let me tell you it
will
drop - not a soul in the universe will return his calls. Male, female, canine, bovine . . . No one. Because beneath that . . . that gaudy exterior, he has no substance. No . . . intelligence.’
‘He graduated from Standford summa cum laude.’
‘Oh, for shit’s sake!’
Tredwell was still standing over us, a tiny red pitcher balanced on his palm.
‘We would not like any cream!’ said Yale.
I said, ‘You sound angrier than me.’
‘I know. It’s just . . . God. I hate Nate for what he did to you. He doesn’t deserve anything.’
‘We’re in agreement there.’
‘And, not to sound selfish, but it isn’t fair to me either.’
I looked at him.
‘Hey, I work hard, and I strive to be a good person, and I’ve never cheated on anyone, let alone
bisexually
cheated on them, and that prick can do any play that he wants while I’m lucky to get a chorus part at a dinner theater on Long Island. He’s clearly stolen
my
hard-earned good fortune.’
I couldn’t help but smile a little.
‘And . . . and then you tell me he’s summa cum laude? I mean, he has money and fame and fans and . . . and that ass, and now I can’t even take comfort in his possible stupidity? What am I supposed to do about that?’
My smile grew broader. Yale had a talent for making himself the injured party in any given situation - particularly the ones that were actually damaging to me. It was oddly soothing, the way he asked me to help him with my problems. ‘You have a very nice ass,’ I said.
Yale gave my hand a squeeze. ‘Get this away from me.’ He folded up the
Post
and stuffed it back in my bag.
Meanwhile, the waiter was lingering like bad breath.
I said, ‘I swear to God we don’t need anything else.’
Tredwell put down the cursed pitcher of cream, knocking over a saltshaker in the process. I pinched up some salt, tossed it over my left shoulder and glared at him.
Tredwell stared unblinkingly over our heads, and then slowly, his lips parted. ‘Whoa,’ he said softly, and proceeded to knock over my coffee.
Tredwell brought new meaning to the words
economy of movement
. With hot coffee streaming over the edge of the counter and onto the decidedly nonwaterproof shoulder bag that sat in my lap, he waited several seconds before slowly reaching behind him, grabbing a stack of paper napkins and placing them in front of me without so much as offering to help. As Yale used some of the napkins to dam off the coffee, I tried to sop up my purse. ‘We could use a few more napkins here, budd Cinsaley,’ Yale said, but Tredwell just stood there like a lamp.
A deep, inflectionless voice behind us said, ‘Turn around, Bright Eyes.’
Yale gasped. ‘Peter . . . don’t you look . . . striking today.’
‘Can I have some seltzer water?’ I said, but Tredwell remained paralyzed. I didn’t care how good-looking Peter Steele was, this little creep wasn’t getting a tip.
I looped the shoulder strap over the counter stool so the bag was facing out at the room behind me. ‘I guess I’ll just have to
air this out
then.’
Peter’s voice was saying, ‘Well, come on. What do you think?’
‘They’re definitely interesting,’ Yale said.
‘They’re one of a kind. At least that’s what the guy at the contact lens place told me. I can’t decide whether they’re hot or scary.’
‘I’d say they’re a little of both.’
‘Know what they’re called? Magic Mirrors.’
I spun around on the counter stool and looked at his face. ‘Shit.’
‘Who’s she?’
I cleared my throat. ‘I’m Yale’s friend Samantha.’
‘Golly,’ he said. ‘Taking the gals to meet me already.’
‘Sam’s my best friend.’
‘Not to be rude, but what an ugly bag. Not you - your purse.’
‘I told you, Sam.’
‘Magic Mirrors,’ I said.
‘Cute name, huh?’
‘Cute.’
Yale said, ‘I hate to break it to you, Peter, but I don’t think those contacts are one of a—Sam! You
kicked
me!’
‘Sorry. It was an accident.’
‘I need something,’ Peter said. He reached out and took Yale’s hand in his, then slowly brought it up to his mouth. Watching my face, he ran his full lips along the length of its underside, from the base of the palm to the tip of the middle finger. ‘That’s better,’ he said.
Yale opened his mouth and closed it again, his cheeks coloring.
‘I have to go to the bathroom.’ I grabbed the damp shoulder bag and headed for th C heidte rear of the restaurant on stiff, uncooperative legs.
All the while, I felt Peter’s mirrored eyes staring at the back of my head.
‘Okay,’ I said to my reflection. ‘Okay, okay, okay.’
I wasn’t sure how long I’d been in this giant corpuscle of a bathroom, with its red toilet, sink and light bulbs; nor how long I’d been repeating the word, but it was starting to sound foreign. ‘Okayokayokay . . .’
I looked deep into my own pupils, maroon under the tarty lights, and thought about Peter’s eyes, how they didn’t have pupils. I thought about how, when he’d turned toward me, all I could see in them were tiny, distorted segments of my own face. When he’d mouthed Yale’s hand, I’d seen doubles of my top lip.
They were the same eyes as the Hudson River man’s, and Peter had said his contacts were one of a kind. ‘Okayokay . . .’
Peter had close-cropped, dark hair, a broad, smooth forehead, black eyebrows. ‘Okay.’
What an ugly bag
, he’d said, bits of orange and brown embroidery in his eyes. The bag had been everywhere with me - the construction site, the box office, Great White. Was he letting me know he’d seen it before? Was he letting me know that he’d seen it - and me - before he tracked down and seduced my best friend? Was he letting me know that he could go anywhere, be anywhere at any time, that there was nowhere for me to go, nowhere for me to
hide
?
Yale would think I was insane if he were to hear me muttering into the mirror of the world’s reddest bathroom, considering the possibility that his gorgeous new boyfriend was a murderer and stalker who had spent Valentine’s Day dumping a picnic cooler full of body parts into the Hudson.
He would think I was insane, and I wouldn’t blame him. Peter was probably not the same man I’d seen at the river. And even if he was . . .
body parts
? More likely there was something harmless in the ice chest. Something along the lines of trash, battery acid, old clothes . . .
Why couldn’t I shake off this suspicion? Why was I afraid to leave the bathroom? Why couldn’t I imagine myself saying, ‘Hey, Peter. Didn’t I see you and a woman down by the piers?’ if there wasn’t anything
wrong
with Peter and a woman being down by the piers?
I splashed cold water in my face. ‘Okay,’ I said again. The muscles at the base of my skull clenched up, my headache was starting to return. I had to eat something. Somebody knocked on the door. I clutched the edge of the sink and took a deep, trembling breath. Finally, I unlocked the door and headed back to the counter.
‘That’s the men’s room, you know,’ a male voice called after me.
‘Are you all right?’ Yale asked when I returned.
‘Yeah, why?’
‘We thought you fell in,’ said Peter.
‘I was . . . in the men’s room.’
‘Well, that explains it.’ Peter winked a mirrored eye at me. I could see part of my cheek in it, a wisp of my hair.
Peter had taken my seat at the counter, and Yale stared at him as if he were watching
Les Mis
for the first time. ‘Sam, Peter. Peter, Sam . . .’
‘You look familiar,’ said Peter. ‘Have we met before?’
I watched Tredwell put my lunch in front of the empty seat on the other side of Peter and said, ‘I don’t think so.’ My eyes darted back to his. Now they were filled with the faint black and gray pattern on my V-necked sweater.
Yale was right. His face was beautiful. It looked as if someone had spent long, loving hours sculpting every smooth inch of it, and his skin was glowingly tan despite the time of year. He had the ripe, bloated mouth of a
Cosmopolitan
model. I imagined it covered by a black scarf.
‘You’re staring at me,’ Peter said - not unkindly, more like he was used to it. ‘Do I have something in my teeth?’ In his eyes, I could see where the pale skin of my neck met my black T-shirt collar.