Pass It On (10 page)

“Don't worry,” he said to Risa Subkoff, who was standing next to him.

“I wasn't.”

Risa was in long basketball shorts and a T-shirt. She had her long dark hair back in a ponytail and her hands all over David because they were playing one-on-one basketball with unlimited physical contact.

They were in the Reebok Sports Club on the Upper West Side, where Risa worked some evenings as an instructor/semipro for women's basketball, which basically meant that she went one-on-one with career women in their thirties and forties and helped them with their jump shots. Because of this she had free passes, so she and David were on the court, which was a whole lot more modern and fun than the courts at their schools.

David locked eyes with Risa, then went up and
dunked, because he could.

“I found out from my friends all about you and Amanda Harrison Deutschmann and how serious you guys are.” Risa took the ball from David and shot from three-point range. She made it. The club was quiet because it was nearly nine on a Wednesday.

“Uh-oh,” David said and sighed. What was he supposed to say? He didn't know. That he might be still in love with Amanda and they could probably be happy together if they could just stop cheating on each other? Um, no, he couldn't say that. He took a deep breath and tried to imagine what his dad might say.

“I can imagine that you must be angry,” David said.

Risa grabbed David by the front of his Tarheels T-shirt.

“I was really embarrassed the other night,” she said. “I'm sure your dad thinks I'm a whore.”

“He doesn't think in terms like that.”

“You do know that I don't care that you have a girlfriend, right?”

“Um, I'm not even going to try to understand that,” David said.

“Good, don't.” She was smiling, so David started kissing her. But he knew that no matter what, he wasn't Arno. And that was what this was all about, he realized. Trying to get back at Arno for what had
happened a month ago, when Arno had fooled around with Amanda at Patch's house. He still wasn't over that.
Look at me, I can be a cheat, too.
But it wasn't working. He knew it, he just wasn't ready to admit it yet.

Then Risa pushed him away and they played a slow game of one-on-one. Some adults stopped to watch as they came back from their massages and weight training.

Risa blew past David and went for the hole and David body-checked her. She tripped, and they landed in a tangle on the floor. He kissed her. Amanda would never play with him like this. It would mess up her hair. But for some reason he loved that about Amanda, that holding back thing she always did. And there, in the warm glow of the basketball court in the Reebok Club with Risa, who was so right for the room, he was thinking only of Amanda and how to get back to her. And he hoped against hope that she wasn't doing the same thing he was right then.

“I don't understand why we can't get fucked up,” Mickey said. “I mean, I'm kind of tweaked about this stuff with Jonathan. I sort of always thought we were the closest, you know? And now I find out he's lying straight to my face.”

“And plus, you were really excited to go do some wild stuff since we've been acting so calm, huh?” Philippa said.

“Well,” Mickey looked at his girl and remembered again how amazing it was that she could totally read his mind. “Yeah, that's true.”

He sat with Philippa in a back booth at Man Ray, and he had an ice pack on his ear from when he'd smashed into Jonathan at football. The Neptunes were playing, so the room was really loud, and it was also kind of dark. Philippa had her hair pulled back and she was looking particularly prim. And Mickey was trying to relax into his role as a happy boyfriend, but he also wanted to get a little drunk and it seemed as if Philippa
was telling him he couldn't do both.

Philippa's phone buzzed and it was Liza Komansky, who was currently defiantly incommunicado from everyone in the group, but who was still kind of obsessed with Jonathan even though she said she hated him. Philippa answered and immediately they started talking about Jonathan.

“And apparently, Jonathan has a new girlfriend, on top of everything else,” Philippa said into the phone.

“Don't tell Liza that.” After all, Mickey had only heard that secondhand from Arno, and this rumor stuff seemed like it was getting out of control.

“Why not?” Liza yelled back through the tiny speaker. “I don't have a thing for him. And you tell your friend Jonathan that I don't care if his new stepmom could buy her own country, I still wouldn't like him.”

“What? How does she know that?” Mickey asked.

“Come as soon as you can,” Philippa said to Liza, then she hung up and turned to Mickey. “Word travels fast. Plus, she said she saw Jonathan at Barneys buying a weird neck warmer and talking to a salesgirl about what the best deck shoes for a five-hundred-foot yacht would be.”

“It's not five hundred feet.”

“Well, anyway, that's what she said.” Philippa flipped her hair.

A waitress came by and delivered plates of crab cakes and tall glasses of cold beer. She winked at Mickey, and Philippa saw.

“Watch it,” Philippa said to the waitress. Mickey gave her a half frown. He'd known the waitress since he was eight or so, and she'd seen him in all sorts of states. She was a cellist who worked only a few nights a week. Her name was Diane, and Mickey had only fooled around with her a couple of times.

“Think of me as a cousin,” Diane said to Philippa.

“When Mickey went to Brazil he slept with two of his cousins,” Philippa said back.

“Oh.” Diane reddened and walked away.

“I almost killed Jonathan today,” Mickey said, tearing into his crab cake. “I still can't get over the trust thing. I mean, if it was Patch, or even Arno, I'd just figure it was an honest mistake, but Jonathan is way too uptight to not realize he's invited us all even though we're not all allowed to come.”

Philippa sighed and looked at Mickey in sort of a bored way.

“There must be something else Jonathan's not telling us.” Mickey spoke with his mouth full, and twisted his finger in his ear. He'd said it, sure, but he couldn't follow his own reasoning. Then Mickey got even more tangled in his thoughts, because now he felt like he was
doing Jonathan's job, which was figuring out all the gossipy-shit. And this was not a job he was particularly good at. He looked at the restaurant's gigantic front door and suddenly it opened and Liza came sweeping through it. She was dressed all in black and her flowing coat slapped the backs of other diners' heads as she passed.

“Well, here I am,” Liza said. She kept her coat on and sat down next to Philippa, who immediately started whispering to her. Mickey shrugged at both of them and started drinking Philippa's beer, since he'd finished his own.

“Can I get you anything?” Diane asked Liza. Everyone looked at Liza. The only thing colorful about her were her eyes, which were red and puffy. She just shook her head and sniffled.

“You're tearing yourself apart over Jonathan, aren't you?” Philippa asked, and stood up. “Mickey, I love you, but I've got to go take care of Liza.”

“What am I going to do?”

“Finish your dinner and go home and do your homework,” Philippa said. Liza helped Philippa with her coat. “And don't let me hear that you stayed here all night flirting with the waitress.” Philippa leaned in and kissed him, and then she put a protective arm around Liza. Even Mickey could see that Liza was upset.
Everyone knew her thing for Jonathan was quite real.

“I'll miss you,” Mickey said.

“I'll call you at eleven and tuck you in over the phone,” Philippa said. She straightened her cream-colored cashmere coat, swept back her hair, and followed her friend out of the restaurant.

Mickey smiled at Diane, who still stood there looking at Mickey, now alone in the booth.

“Well, it looks like someone needs to finish up their dinner and go home and do whatever homework gets assigned to boys in their junior year,” Diane said. She reached out and pushed her hand through Mickey's thicket of messy hair.

“That's exactly what I'm going to do,” Mickey said, nodding vigorously. “But first could you get me a double shot of tequila? I'll have it with a piece of warm apple pie and then I'll go straight home and do my schoolwork.”

“That's my little Mickey,” Diane said, and went away to put in his order.

“We're not going out to dinner?” David asked his mom. It was nearly eight o'clock on Wednesday evening, but Jonathan hadn't arrived at the Grobart's yet.

Hilary Grobart looked up quickly from the
New York Times
crossword puzzle she was completing. The radio was tuned to a classical music station, and choral music surrounded them. Both Hilary and Sam Grobart were in their big leather easy chairs with their feet up; Hilary with the puzzle, Sam totally absorbed by
The New England Journal of Medicine
. The corners of David's thick lips pointed down. If he could have freeze-framed his childhood, this would be the picture.

“Why, no. Why would we?” she asked.

David tried to remember the last time she'd ever answered a question without asking a question. He couldn't. Her book
Always Ask First
was still hovering in the top one hundred on the
New York Times'
extended list.

“Because Jonathan is coming over.”

“All the more reason to have a nice warm dinner at home, don't you think?”

“No.”

“David.” His mother raised an eyebrow. “Is there something you'd like to share with us?”

“No.”

The intercom buzzed and the doorman said he was sending Jonathan up. A moment later there was a knock on the door.

David's dad leapt to attention. He ruffled himself like a pigeon and his eyes seemed to brighten. David watched his dad and a shiver shot through him.

“Hello, Jonathan, dear boy!” Sam Grobart grabbed the door and opened it wide for Jonathan. Johathan put his bulging garment bag and an extra RL bag right by the door, as if he wanted easy access should he need to make a quick escape.

“What the hell?” Jonathan mouthed to David. David shrugged.

“We're very glad to have you here,” Sam said. The buzzer rang again, and everyone jumped as if an electric current had shot through the air.

“What the hell is that?” Hilary asked.

“It's the pizza man!” Sam tripped over Jonathan's bag and kicked it as he ran to open the door. A short man
in a white apron stood there with two large pizza boxes. “Molto grazie,” Sam said. “Everybody loves Lombardi's!”

Sam thrust three twenties at the pizza man, grabbed the pies from him, and shut the door.

“Let's eat here in the living room, it'll be fun!”

“Why?”

“Not now, Hilary. Go get some Cokes.”

“You know perfectly well we don't keep soda in the house. Don't you?”

“Oh, right.” Sam stood suddenly and ran back to the door. The short man was still there. He handed Sam a six-pack of Coke and Sam slammed the door again.

“Plates, napkins, no forks. This is fun, right?” Sam opened one of the boxes and the smell of mushroom and onion pizza filled the room.

“Don't ask me what's going on,” David mumbled to Jonathan.

“
I think I can guess,
” Jonathan whispered.

“Everyone in a circle.” Sam dragged chairs around the coffee table and Hilary distributed plates and paper towels. Soon they were all eating loudly. It was really good pizza: thin crust, with fresh mozzarella and basil and garlic you could actually taste.

“Thanks,” Jonathan said, between bites. “This is good.”

“What life is about,” Sam Grobart announced and stood suddenly, wiping his mouth with a paper towel.

“Oh no,” David said.

“Life is about forgiveness. It's about embracing your enemies.”

“While we're eating?” Hilary Grobart said, closing her eyes.

“It's about breaking bread with those who've hurt you.”

“Um,” Jonathan said.

“We're okay with the past,” Sam waved a limp pizza crust at this audience of three. “But I think we should all be able to wrestle with the fact that your father is a thief, because nothing, nothing, is more important than honesty. I mean really, would we be decent people if we cared that your father stole our money? I for one, think not.”

“I didn't—”

“Be quiet now, Jonathan. We love you, see? We are beating our swords into ploughshares!” Like some crazed cartoon maestro, Sam Grobart whipped the air with his pizza crust.

“Dad?”

“Some people keep secrets hidden, but not me. I'm totally against secrecy, which is the enemy of honesty!”

“Is this insanity really some misplaced jealousy of
the success of my book?” Hilary asked her husband. “Because we both know I'm having a lot of trouble with the second one and that must be some consolation to you.”

But Sam Grobart, potbellied and bald, with the wild eyes of a street-corner preacher, was beyond hearing.

“The sins of the father are not reflected on the son. Not at all! And we are here, breaking pizza with the son! He shall sleep under our very roof.”

“I think I better go,” Jonathan said.

“Not without me,” David said.

The two boys stood up and made for the door.

“We know everything about you, and we're okay with it! That's what you need to know.” Sam Grobart rushed at Jonathan and hugged him. “We want you to stay here for as long as you like. I've been your mother's therapist since before you were born and this is where I've arrived, at a place of complete forgiveness—a place where we all can live in harmony!”