I didn’t tell Shannon I’d be bringing Connor—payback for this afternoon—and though she looks a little surprised to see him, she recovers quickly, and seems genuinely happy he’s here, like she’s as desperate for a buffer as Iam.
Both of them have changed, looking like glamorous night-time versions of the people they were this afternoon. She’s in a silky black camisole and black blazer, accessorized with gold everything: gold earrings, gold rings, gold bracelets, gold chains. Her hair is up, her lips are glossed, her eyeliner is immaculate.
As teenagers, Shannon once matter-of-factly told me on the drive to school that she was the hot one, and I was the cute one, as if this was an official designation in every family, and there was a maximum of one in each category. I never once doubted her, then or now. Shannon has always been, and continues to be, the hot one. As in: she looks like she could burnyou.
Beside her, Dan is Shannon’s bargain-basement counterpart. Though he’s dressed well in a dark knit polo with indigo and white stripes—Shannon’s doing, no question—he still makes it look cheap. His hair has been gelled to within an inch of its life, slicked back from his face, his beard groomed so sharply it looks like he drew it on. I can smell his aftershave from here, and I don’t care for it. It just goes to show the old saying is true: you can’t polish a turd.
A waitress mercifully appears the second we sit down,saving all of us from any further small talk while we grapple with the logistics of our drink order. Connor recommends the margaritas, a suggestion approved by everyone except Dan, who always has to be different. He, of course, orders a Paloma.
“So how are you enjoying New York so far?” Connor asks them.
“A little overwhelming,” Shannon admits at the same moment Dan says: “Really overrated.”
Connor pauses, taking in these dueling bits of information, deciding which conversational off-ramp he wants to take. He goes withDan.
“Oh yeah? Howso?”
“Well, it’s insanely expensive, for starters. New York is always painted like it’s the city that never sleeps, but really there’s just traffic everywhere. It’s noisy. The streets reek of garbage. I don’t really getit.”
“Maybe you’re just not a city guy,” Isay.
“That’s true. Cities are huge resource drains. Smaller towns offer a lower cost of living, higher quality of life, and less competition than sprawling urban areas.”
“Dan’s a town councilor,” I say to Connor. “He’s averybig deal.”
Under the table, he pinches my thigh. To Dan he says, “That’s cool.”
Shannon pivots. “So where are you from originally, Connor?”
“New York,” he admits, the corners of his mouth twitching. “I grew up on the Upper West Side.”
“Oh wow, cool,” she says lamely.
“You’re not wrong about all those things, by the way,” Connor says to Dan. “It is expensive, and there’s a lot of people. My mom calls it friction. But there’s a lot of good things about thisplace too. Hopefully you’ll discover a few of them before the weekend’s out.”
Dan mumbles something likefor sureinto the rim of his glass.
—
It’s not long before Connor’s easy manners put Shannon and Dan under his spell, and for a few blissful minutes I imagine what life would be like if Shannon lived here and Dan were a person I liked.
Connor continues to steer the conversation, asking Shannon what she does, if she also works in government? No, she tells him, but she’s very involved in local affairs. HA.Ironic.
She goes on to tell him she’s a realtor, a profession she fell into by chance but now really enjoys. It’s a refreshing change to hear Shannon talk passionately about something that has nothing to do with Dan, that there’s at least one piece of her life he’s never managed to infiltrate.
I can see why she loves it. Shannon was always popular, amazing at persuading the people around her to do whatever she wanted. Competitive, too. What people don’t realize is that though he behaves like he’s the successful one in this relationship, Dan owes most of his lifestyle to Shannon. Town councilors are not particularly well paid. Shannon, on the other hand, is making a mint selling houses for all the guys who had a crush on her in high school.
When the waitress comes to take our orders for another round, Connor suggests we order a pitcher of Palomas, a move that visibly flatters Dan and enables him to give us his expert opinion that they’re the better, more underrated cocktail (andwaymore popular in Mexico, something he experienced first-hand when he visited Cancun for a whopping four days).
“So Annie tells me you’re planning your wedding at the moment?” Connor asks when the drinks arrive.
“That’s right,” Dan says, his arm going around Shannon. “It’s time to lock this one down for good.”
Oh,gag.
“What about you, man?” Dan asks, taking a swig of his drink. “Are you married?”
“Uh,” Connor says, looking at me, then back at Dan. “No.”
