Ghosts of Manhattan by Douglas Brunt Page A

questions in his greetings, none of which requires a response.
    â€œEverything’s good.”
    â€œGood to see you, William!” Jack gives him a push and a laugh.
    â€œHi, Jack. Good to see you.” William is a little starstruck. We’re the customers, the Chappy guys have to entertain us, but Jack is a sort of legend. No one goes at it harder, and William and hisfriends have been repeating Jack Wilson stories for the last few years to the point they’ve created a demigod for themselves.
    â€œCocktails on the table, boys.” Jack turns to the bar, where six more vodka sodas are already poured. Two to me, two to William, and one more each to Jack and Woody so there isn’t a free hand among us. “Michael!” Jack calls to the headwaiter and they exchange nods and we walk to our table in back.
    We drop into our seats, go to work on our drinks, and survey the restaurant. For an old New York restaurant known for its steak, this place always has pretty girls, and usually a few doubtful ladies loitering by the bar. “William, I hear you’re engaged.” Jack shakes his head. “You stupid bastard.”
    â€œYeah, I guess it was time.”
    â€œTime for what?”
    â€œTime to get married. She was ready and I’m okay with it. I caved on this one. She’s talking about kids, but I’m not caving on that.”
    â€œNo? Never?”
    â€œNo way. Never.” William’s emphatic.
    â€œSo, you just decided to screw the same woman for the rest of your life?”
    The table is quiet for a moment, appreciating the question. Jack has a point. “Well, I just didn’t want anyone else screwing her.”
    â€œHer little sister is just as hot,” Woody says. “When are you setting me up?”
    â€œNot a chance. I have enough to deal with right now.” Apparently William isn’t completely devoid of common sense.
    â€œYeah, what’s up?” I ask. I know it isn’t anything from the office monopolizing his time.
    â€œWedding planning. I’m getting pulled into more of it than I thought I would.”
    â€œWhat kind of stuff?” asks Woody, inquiring about a foreign land.
    â€œYou can’t imagine how much. The place, the menu, the invitations, the kind of silverware, napkins, and chairs, the centerpieces, even the kind of doily under the drinks. That’s just part of it. There’s transportation and hotels, photographer, videographer, flowers, minister. All I want to do is the band.”
    â€œAre you guys planning this yourselves?”
    â€œNo, we have a guy. Flaming guy. We still need to see stuff and make all the decisions. Every time I show a hint that I don’t care about something, she gets pissed.”
    â€œLet me give you some advice, William,” I say. “Don’t tell her it doesn’t matter to you. They don’t care what your opinion is. Only that you have an opinion. Just pick something, then get out of bounds. She’ll probably pick something else, but she’ll appreciate that you offer an opinion.” I don’t totally believe this, but I do about fifty percent of the time, and it’s safe advice.
    â€œSpoken like the only married man at the table,” laughs Jack.
    â€œOnly six years, but I’ve learned some survival techniques.” And I realize they were just that. Julia and I have been only surviving.
    â€œWilliam, you should listen to your boss. A wise man.” Jack makes a toasting motion with his glass. “Did you act like a gentleman? Did you ask her father’s permission to marry her?”
    Woody rocks back in his chair, laughing with a hand over his mouth. “William, tell the story. You have to.” Apparently Woody has heard the story already and it’s a good one.
    â€œI did ask.” William looks at the center of the table, smiling. “I’m going to need a bump before I tell this one. Anyone have a white