Page 15 of Mr Best Friend's Brother Grump

Kendra turns to me and squeezes my arm. “We’re going to a private club,” she says, her eyes shiny with excitement. “Ingrid’s a member and is going to sign us in! So exciting!” She squeezes my arm again. “Ingrid says that she’s seen Beyoncé there with Jay-Z, and Bruno Mars, and Justin Bieber, Scarlett Johansson, and Drake, and who else did you say, Ingrid?”

Kendra turns to Ingrid who says something I can’t hear. Then Ingrid leans forward and says, directly to me, “There’s a lot of people who try and get in, you know, to see their favorite stars, so… try not to stare.” She smiles benignly. “You have to respect their privacy. They’re human too, you know.” Ingrid sits back in her seat again.

The taxi roars south down the freeway and I’m chewing my lip. I don’t care about celebrities. I don’t want to go to an exclusive snobby club. I want to eat enchiladas with my best friend and not be caught up with anyone else’s stuff. I’m feeling let down by Kendra, who seems delighted by the prospect that I’m appalled by, which is making me shift in my seat with discomfort.

I should be the bigger person and just go with it. I should accept whatever 'it' is and stop being a negative Nelly. The cab stops outside a tall old-style red brick building somewhere in SoHo, I presume, although I’m not really sure where we are.

“The entrance is around the side,” says Ingrid as the cab drives away. “You wouldn’t know this place was here unless you were… in the know.” Ingrid taps the side of her nose and huffs, which could have been a laugh. It was hard to tell.

At this point I’m thinking about peeling off and disappearing, saying good night and goodbye. But I don’t. I feel swept along with the pretense of a ‘good time’ and, as if I am in a dream, I follow Ingrid and Kendra through the door, that has buzzed open, and up the stairs.

Ingrid pushes through a grand double door that opens into a stylish bar - a blend of flamboyant decorative and industrial chic in heavy dark-stained wood and dazzling chandeliers and mirrors. There are a few customers in, but it’s not crowded at all. Atmospheric soft jazz burbles away in the background. We approach the bar across the polished marble floor. Ingrid perches on one of the plush deep red velvet-cushioned stools. Kendra climbs up next to her and I struggle to get a leg up on mine. The stool wobbles a bit and I have to clutch the bar to steady myself. The barman comes over.

“Manhattans all round,” says Ingrid, taking off her coat and flipping her hair over her shoulders, without asking us what we want. I’m too surprised to say anything and just nod and smile. I take off my jacket and look around the bar. Kendra and Ingrid are talking together. It’s clear I am not included.

“Let’s get a table,” Kendra says as if she has just noticed there are three of us.

Ingrid makes a noise like an extractor fan, then says with an audible sigh, “Sure, if that’s what you want.” She slides off her stool and saunters over to one of the round tables off to the side. “Actually,” she says when we’re all sitting down. “This is a good place to spot celebrities when they come in.” She seems pleased, then adds, “Yeah, so in case you don’t know… phones away.” She flaps her fingers as if shooing a fly. The barman brings our drinks over, placing them each on coasters in front of us. “They don’t allow photos here. You know, the way social media is these days… Anyway, cheers ladies.” We clink our glasses together and sip our cocktails.

There’s a moment’s quiet, before Ingrid asks, “So, how’s Nathan?” The mouthful of Manhattan almost explodes from my nose. I swallow hard and contain my choking. My eyes water and I cough. Kendra watches me with concern, but Ingrid rolls her eyes.

“He’s good, I think,” says Kendra. “He’s coming back tomorrow for a job. Maybe I’ll get to see him before I fly out to Washington.”

“If you do, give him my love, won’t you?” says Ingrid batting her lashes. “I still feel such a strong connection, you know. As if we’re on a break and… I just need to be patient and give him some space. But…” Ingrid smiles at Kendra and then me, briefly. “… soon he’ll realize that we are meant to be together. Don’t you think, Kendra? I mean, you know your brother better than anyone. Wouldn’t you say that we make the ideal couple?” Kendra looks at her cocktail, thinking of how to respond.

“Yes,” she says. “You are both beautiful people.” Ingrid basks in this comment.

“Thanks, Kendra,” Ingrid says, beaming. “I loved that shot of us at the launch party. The one that was in Hello! that shows us about to kiss. Gosh, they caught such a special moment. I had no idea that picture was being taken. It really is magic, isn’t it? I have it here on my phone. Oh, sorry. No phones.” She laughs. “That’s right.”

Kendra is right. They are beautiful people. But I can’t help feeling that Ingrid is not the woman for Nathan. He deserves someone… what? Like me? I look across at Ingrid who is tall, pretty, and ultra-thin. She is the opposite of me. And is clearly the kind of woman that Nathan does want. They inhabit the same world. Why am I giving their relationship this level of consideration? Why am I considering it at all? Why is thinking about them together making me miserable? What is wrong with me? I knock back what’s left in my glass, finishing it too quickly. My head begins to spin. Suddenly, I don’t care about anything anymore.

Chapter 12

Nathan

I meet Alfie in a café over in Union City. We hug warmly. He is one of my oldest friends. It’s always a pleasure to see him. He’s intelligent, witty; and has a sharp, dry sense of humor. He’s perceptive and a damn good writer.

He has set up a meeting at the Cuban community center up the street from the café.

“We’re going to be shown around by the woman who wrote the article about the fiftieth anniversary of the center. She’s done the research and is happy to introduce us to the people I want to feature. So yeah, that’s great!”

I order a coffee, feeling the need to wake my brain up. I arrived last night and crashed out as soon as I hit the pillow. I heard Kendra come in and stumble around a bit. She messaged me sorry for waking me up. I didn’t see her this morning and she won’t be there when I get back today. She’s at a conference or something for work, her message said, and won’t be back until sometime at the weekend.

I pick up my camera bag and follow Alfie out and across the street. We walk a few blocks, then enter a brightly colored building with the Cuban flag prominently displayed in the reception area. The building is larger than I expected. There’s music and noise and people talking loudly in Spanish, and laughing. A group of squealing toddlers chases each other around in front of the reception desk before they are corralled into one of the rooms down a corridor. A young woman smiles and stands to greet us. She knows our names and lifts the receiver of a desk phone to make a call.

“Rosa will be with you shortly,” she says, still smiling. It didn’t occur to me that the Rosa she was talking about was the Rosa I knew until I saw her coming down the corridor toward us. My face must have given away all my emotions.

“Oh my! Nathan!” Rosa says, looking straight at me, like a rabbit in headlights, as if Alfie isn’t there at all. “… Sorry...” Rosa looks down, smiling, and attempts to reclaim a professional demeanor. “… I’m Rosa Martinez,” she says, turning to Alfie and shaking his hand. “Welcome to the Cuban Community Center.”

Alfie introduces himself and then he says, “And you already know Nathan?”

He waits for one of us to fill in the blanks, so I say, “Yes. Rosa and I met… Well, Rosa is my sister’s friend and she stayed with us when she first came to New York.” Rosa smiles shyly.

“That’s right,” she says, looking at me. “I was so lucky to have a place to stay and good people looking out for me. Apart from…” Rosa stops her train of thought.

“What?” Alfie and I ask simultaneously.

“I was going to say, apart from that day when I filled in as your assistant because Kendra hurt herself,” she says, sighing audibly. “I thought I was going to die.”

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