Ghosts of Manhattan by Douglas Brunt Page B

bag?”
    â€œOf course, young man.” Jack reaches in his pocket, then slides in plain view across the table a small ziplock cellophane bag thesize of a fifty-cent piece, the kind a store would put earrings in. This one is packed with chalky white cocaine.
    â€œBe right back.” William puts it in his pocket, pushes back from the table, and walks past the bar to the staircase leading to the men’s room upstairs.
    Aside from the good food and great-looking women, Bistro 18 is mainly popular for having a perfect cocaine bathroom. Most restaurant bathrooms in New York have a few urinals and a couple toilets and there are people coming in and out of there like Grand Central. There’s no privacy in the room and you can’t snort a bunch of coke up your beak with that going on. Snorting is a loud, obnoxious sound, even to other coke users and especially to nonusers, and it attracts a lot of attention. The best bathrooms have a single stall and a lock on the door. That way you can make yourself comfortable in private. You don’t need to cut up lines the way they do in the movies. You just dip in the tip of an apartment key and lift out a pile, maybe the size of a mini chocolate chip, and wedge it up the nostril.
    William is back in less than five minutes. “Okay. Yes, I did go to ask for permission.” We’re all leaning forward, already small bursts of laughter happening in anticipation of this debacle. “Keep in mind, they live in Arizona, so I don’t see them much. We’ve met only a couple times before this.” He takes a drink, enjoying the effect of his pauses. “So we fly out there. Jen knows I’m going to do this, so she goes out shopping with her mom, and her dad and I stay home at their place for some alone time watching college football. We’re all set with our beers and the game on, having some nice guy-bonding time, and I can’t figure out any smooth transition so I just go right in. I tell him I love Jen, I want to marry her and spend the rest of my life with her.” He takes another sip. Woody bursts out laughing, which makes the rest of us laughwondering where this is going. William is a good storyteller. He’ll have a nice career as a salesman.
    â€œHer dad looks stunned, and I think a little alarmed. After at least a full minute of looking right at me, he says, ‘Well, I’m concerned about this.’”
    â€œSo he has a pulse,” says Jack.
    â€œHe then proceeds to rake me over the coals with an interview. Keep in mind, he’s withholding any sort of ‘yes, you have my permission.’ He says, and I quote, ‘Tell me about yourself.’”
    â€œJesus, I hope you didn’t.” Jack is loving this story. Nothing gets him energized like this, like a dog being fed a strip steak, eating it down so fast he’s barely chewing.
    â€œSo I told him I smoke, I drink too much, I do cocaine, I like strippers, love hookers, I think his other daughter is pretty hot, and I’d kinda like to nail her too.”
    Silence. We sit looking at William, blinking. Woody snickers, still with his hand over his mouth. I look at William, my face expressionless except my eyebrows are as high as my forehead can pull them, trying to decide if it is possible that he said those words.
    â€œAre you serious?” Jack looks at William with awe. An almost impossible expression for his face.
    â€œNo. But I wish I had. The guy was such an ass.”
    â€œWhat did you really say?”
    â€œI just told him where I’m from, where I went to school, I work hard and career is important, I want kids, and family is most important.”
    â€œWas he buying it?”
    â€œNot really. He said he’s concerned about my drinking and my quote unquote nightlife.”
    â€œYou’re famous in Arizona now?”
    â€œJen must have told her parents a few things. She’s close with her mom. I guess when we argue,