“Whoa, whoa. Calm down,” Bobby said. The entire kitchen hushed all of a sudden. People were looking this way. “Everyone just calm down a sec,” he said.
Fiona appeared out of nowhere. “What happened?” She looked into each of our faces. “Bobby?” Her eyes flicked over to Julian quickly, then away. It was fast, but I caught it: she didn’t want Julian here, and it pleased her that Carol was crying and carrying on, causing a scene.
“It wasn’t nobody’s fault,” Bobby started. “We were horsing around—”
“I’m really sorry,” said Julian. “I didn’t mean—”
“Are you still here?” Fiona said. “Bobby mentioned you’re moving to New York.” She said it as if she wished he were already gone, three thousand miles away and not at her house now, here in LA.
“Look at me. This dress,” Carol said. “It’s ruined!”
“I’ll pay for it,” Julian said. “You can buy a new one. Just tell me how much—”
“This is vintage, from the 1960s. You can’t just”—she held up her fingers to rake quotes in the air—“？‘buy a new a one.’？” The ostrich feathers in her tiny hat shook indignantly.
“Honey, we can find something in my closet for you to change into,” said Fiona. Before she led Carol and Elena down the hall, she gave Bobby a final, meaningful stare and fluttered her hands at him, as if shaking them dry.
“Dude, it was a complete accident,” Julian said. He looked from Bobby to me. “You think it’s going to wash out?”
“Fuck her dress,” Bobby said. “Carol needs to calm her ass down.”
“Bobby did it,” I said. “It wasn’t your fault.”
“Damn, Jane. So it’s like that?” Bobby said.
Julian’s eyes lit up, as if he wanted to laugh. I noticed his eyelashes. Long and dark, with a soft curl at their tips. Sleepless blue shadows ringed the skin under his eyes.
I said Carol was just being drunk and dramatic.
“You saw that crazy hat?” Bobby said. “And it wasn’t me, it was definitely you, bro.”
“I need a drink.” Julian shook his head. “Shot?”
“Yo, you better bounce,” said Bobby. His voice was grave all of a sudden. “You saw how my wife was looking at me.”
“It’s not that serious,” I said. “Come on, Bobby boy.” I felt guilty, remembering Fiona’s face when she saw the spilled wine on Carol, the way she’d told Bobby with her eyes to make Julian disappear. “You should definitely stay,” I said to Julian. “It’s New Year’s Eve. Where’s he going to go?” I added.
Bobby looked away. “Party’s kind of lame anyway, tell you the truth.” He shrugged, passing his gaze over the kitchen, into the living room. “You don’t want to be here, man. There’s literally no hot chicks”—Bobby caught himself, glanced over at me. “Not that I even notice these things,” he added, clearing his throat.
“You’re really gonna make me leave?” Julian said. “I drove up from San Diego for this party. I haven’t seen you in—”
“Janie, you’re a lesbian,” Bobby said. “Would you bang anyone here? Back me up. Buncha cows, am I right?”
“Babe,” Fiona called from across the room, her head sticking out from behind the guest bedroom door. “I need you—”
“Hey, man,” Bobby said. “We’ll chill next week. I’ll come down there for the weekend. What do you say?”
“I fly out Thursday,” Julian replied. “New York. That’s it.”
“Shit, I forgot,” Bobby muttered. “Thursday? Already?” He put a hand on Julian’s shoulder. “Hang on, I gotta see what the boss wants.”
Bobby walked off, and Julian twisted the cap off a bottle of Jack. He poured it into a tumbler, downed the contents in two hard swallows. “What was your name again?” He filled the glass a second time.
“You got a cigarette?” I said.
Outside, standing among Fiona and Bobby’s succulents, we smoked in silence. I broke it, finally, by apologizing for Fiona.
“She hates my brother,” Julian said. “Ever since he moved to Virginia I’m sure she’s real happy Bobby doesn’t see him anymore.”
“Carol should be the one to leave.”
“When did Bobby get so whipped?” He drank from his cup. “I shouldn’t say that. Sorry.”