Moondogs - Alexander Yates [79]
Chapter 14
OTHER HOMES
Benicio, Charlie, and Bobby took a taxi to the bay. Traffic was terrible. Charlie went on and on about missing his own victory party and when the car slowed to a standstill he insisted that they get out and walk. That wasn’t much faster, though, because of Bobby’s limp, which was pronounced and awkward. It looked like something he was still getting used to.
After a few hot blocks they made it to the smoky cold breeze of a restaurant doorway. A dwarf standing at a shortened host’s table greeted Charlie and Bobby by name, tucked some drink menus under one arm and led them through a packed chamber with a low ceiling. They passed a live band playing funk, every member a little person wrangling a full sized instrument, and as Benicio rubbernecked he nearly ran into a heavy tray of food that bobbed just above waist level. It was everyone, he realized. Everyone who worked there was a little person.
People called out to Charlie from a long, family-style table, and he joined them with some moderate drunken fanfare. Benicio was about to follow when Bobby took his elbow and whispered: “That’s not for us.” Actually, it was more of a shout, but with the music it sounded like a whisper. He led Benicio to an alcove against the back wall, where four people in their mid-twenties were squeezed around a tiny table. They all stood up to clap when they saw Bobby. One of them unfurled a long piece of brown paper that looked like it came from a bathroom dispenser and held it above his head—an improvised Congratulations banner. Another started up a chant of “Dan-Cer, Dan-Cer, Dan-Cer,” that quickly devolved into “Pils-Ner, Pils-Ner, Pils-Ner,” as he waved to their waiter for more beer. It was a louder reception than Charlie had received, and from a smaller crowd.
The host struggled to drag over two additional chairs, and Benicio and Bobby sat. Bobby’s boisterous friends, two men and two women, didn’t seem to notice that Benicio was there at first. They took turns clapping Bobby on the shoulder and pinching his unbandaged cheek with both hands. For a while only the words “congratulations,” “victory,” and “hot shit” were used. Then one of the women turned to Benicio with an electric suddenness and smiled, revealing a set of glow-in-the-dark teeth.
“Who’s your friend?” she asked, her slur masked behind good posture.
“This is Benicio,” Bobby said. “He’s Howie’s kid.”
This elicited a round of incredulous laughter. Someone said, “Fuck you, he’s not.” Another asked, sarcastically, “Which one?” Bobby said something in Tagalog that shut them up, and then went around the table making introductions. The woman with the glowing teeth and pretty smile was Katrina. The man with the beard and loosened tie—the one who’d asked: Which one? and who came off as a schmuck—was Ping. And the other two, well, he wasn’t sure he’d heard right. But their names sounded like Bong and Baby Cookie.
Katrina put a hand on his wrist. “And what do you do, Ben?” she asked.
“He’s a talent scout,” Bobby said. “They’re filming another Vietnam War movie here come December. Benicio’s out early to get a jump on casting rice farmers, basket weavers, people to run from napalm, and—”
“I’m in computers,” Benicio cut in.
“Coding?” Ping asked, fingering the tip of his immaculate beard. His shirt was black and his tie was black. Benicio felt his lousy first impression confirmed.
“No. Systems. I run a network for a school.”
“You should have stuck with my story,” Bobby shouted across the table. “Katrina does outreach for the party, but she’s like, really awful at it. She’s actually an aspiring actress, and take it from me, the girl has no morals.”
Katrina laughed a little too loud and cuffed Bobby hard on the shoulder. Then she put the tips of her fingers to her mouth and gasped. “I’m so sorry! I forgot.”
“My shoulder’s just fine,