Saint John of the Five Boroughs. Ed Falco

this—the current fashion of displaying breasts—as she was pulled through the party, past one girl after another wearing a variety of revealing tops.

      On the balcony, Mel was leaning against the railing next to Chack. She held a gigantic plastic cup of beer frozen an inch or so from her lips as she watched Avery approach hand in hand with Zachary. Billy appeared to be passed out. Chack was holding him up with an arm around his chest. The boy looked like a rag doll, his head and arms dangling loosely, his legs bent under him.

      “Is he okay?” Avery had to shout to be heard over the music. She touched Billy’s hair, which was dripping wet. The clothes he had on—close up, clearly a woman’s blouse and slacks—were damp. “What,” she shouted, “did he fall in a pool or something?”

      “You got it,” Chack said, “only dove. Lydia’s got his clothes in the drier.”

      Mel said, “Lydia?”

      “S’er place.” Chack touched his fingertips to his forehead, as if he were about to read someone’s mind. “Hey, dude,” he said, “do you know who you are? You’re Zach Snow.”

      “See?” Zachary put his arm around Avery. “I told you I was pretty famous.”

      Mel brought the beer down from her lips without taking a drink. “D’you guys just meet?”

      Someone turned up the volume on the music until the glass in the balcony doors rattled. Avery hissed in Mel’s ear, “He’s huge!”

      “No kidding,” Mel said, looking up at Zach.

      Chack said, “You’re starting linebacker this year, right?”

      “Dude,” Zach said, nodding.

      “Sweet.” Chack returned the nod.

      Avery said, “Chack, Zach,” and the boys shook hands. She leaned over Mel and kissed her loudly on the forehead. “This is my roommate, Melanie.”

      “Hey,” Melanie said.

      Zach said, “Pleased to meet you,” and winked at her. He looked down at Billy. “You sure he’s okay? I had a buddy almost died last year from alcohol poisoning.” He pulled his flask from his back pocket and offered it to Chack.

      Chack waved off the flask and looked down worriedly at Billy. “You think he might have alcohol poisoning?” He gave Billy a shake and the boy’s body flopped around like it was boneless. “Alcohol poisoning,” he repeated, as if the idea were new to him and perhaps worth considering.

      Zach said, “Dawg, don’t they get alcohol poisoning where you’re from?”

      “I’m from Connecticut,” Chack said, staring down at Billy. “Shit . . .” He got to his feet and yanked Billy up with him. “Hey! Billy!” he shouted into Billy’s ear while shaking him.

      Mel said, “How much has he had to drink?”

      “Incalculable,” Chack said. “We both been drinking since this morning.”

      Avery said, “Since this morning?”

      “Well, so, you don’t have alcohol poisoning,” Zachary said to Chack. “He probably don’t either.”

      “He’s twice Billy’s size,” Avery said.

      “Point,” Zach said.

      “Nah . . .” Chack seemed to have come to a decision. “Dude’s just passed out.” He looked up at Zachary. “Hey, man,” he said, “be a prince and help me get him down to my car.”

      Mel said, “You’re driving?”

      Chack pointed out into the darkness off the balcony. “I’m just over there. I cut across the grass, don’t even go on the road.”

      “Cool.” Zach grabbed Billy’s feet. “Lead the way.” To Avery, he said, “Don’t go noplace. Be right back.”

      “I’m not going anywhere,” Avery said. She sat down next to Mel and watched as Zachary and Chack carried Billy through the opened screen door and into the seemingly still growing crowd of partygoers. Zachary yelled, “Casualties! Coming through!” and when no one budged, they hurled themselves into the mass of bodies, two huge guys carrying Billy’s scrawny ass through the sweaty hordes.

      When they were out of sight, Melanie said, “Av! You’re not!”

      “I think so,” Av said. “I think I am.”

      “A-ver-y!”

      “What?” Avery said. “It’ll be fun.”

      “Fun? Jesus. He’s a monster.”

      Avery grinned.

      Melanie looked off into the scores of bodies packed onto the balcony. For a long moment she watched the crowd, and then she looked back and said, “Are you really?”

      “Pretty sure,” Avery said. “’Less something happens.”

      “Like what?”

      “How would I know?”

      “You drunk?”

      Avery nodded. “You?”

      “Yeah,” Melanie said. “We shouldn’t drink any more, though.”

      “Why not?”

      “We want to know what we’re doing, don’t we?”

      “We?”

      “What do you think of that guy?” Melanie gestured toward the apartment, where the balcony railing met the wall. “The one sitting on the railing smoking a cigarette.”

      Avery checked out the guy Melanie was talking about. “In the T-shirt?”

      “Smoking a cigarette.”

      The guy was older than the rest of the crowd, maybe late twenties, maybe even early thirties, dressed in black chinos and a white T. He wasn’t especially big, five ten, five eleven, maybe, but his chest had a sculpted look, as if he might be a bodybuilder, a tight set of abs clearly defined through the T, the muscles of his biceps and forearms sleek. Avery studied him a moment longer.

      Melanie said, “You don’t think he’s hot?” She sounded shocked.

      Avery squinted, making a show of checking the guy out. He was peering off into the distance as if lost in thought, as if he might as well have been sitting on some lonely mountaintop as on a balcony railing in the midst of a noisy party. His hair was cut close to his scalp in a military-style buzz cut, the dark hairline curving down deep into his forehead so that it looked like it wanted badly to grow back wild and thick. He held his cigarette pinched between the thumb and forefinger of his right hand, which was dangling loosely at his side. His left arm lay crossed over his lap. Something about him, she decided, looked brutal. It wasn’t just the compact, muscular body and the practically shaved head, it was something in the way he held himself. “I think he looks creepy,” she said, turning back to Melanie. “What about him?”

      “Creepy? You think so? Don’t you think he’s good-looking?”

      Avery shrugged. “Yeah,” she said, “he’s good-looking. So?”

      “I caught him checking me out before.”

      “Really?” Avery watched him another moment. He still hadn’t moved. A line of ash dropped from his cigarette. “Don’t you think he’s way too old?”

      “For what?”

      “For you. He looks like he could be in his thirties.”

      Melanie made a face that suggested Avery might be out of her mind. “I’m not thinking about making a life with the guy. Why, you have long-term plans for Zach?”

      “All I’m saying is . . . I don’t know. Whatever.” Avery searched the crowd, looking for other possibilities, and then