Death Before Facebook

flattering.
    The Monkey Bar wasn’t a place she would have expected to see either Tricia or Darryl. It had ceiling fans, a noisy tile floor, and lots of light—in many ways like a lot of other bars in New Orleans. But this one had a newish quality, a whiff of trying to be ultra-nineties while employing old-fashioned trappings, a look of the lowest bidding contractor.
    The noise was almost intolerable, the crowd somewhere in its thirties, single and somehow yuppified. Yuppies were a concept one read about more than experienced in the Crescent City, Skip’s brother Conrad being the only one she knew personally. Conrad was a young man on the make in an economically depressed, slow-moving town, a town in which legal secretaries were often temps so law firms wouldn’t have to pay them benefits, a town that young men on the make would do well to leave.
    Yet here was a room full of men who reminded her of Tom Cruise in
The Firm
and women who’d probably make good secretaries if anyone would give them a job. It was a Friday’s kind of place, a place that would probably have been more at home in Atlanta.
    Darryl waved at her. “Skiperoo!”
    Normally she hated it when anyone nicknamed her, but when Darryl did, it made her feel warm and cheerful. She bellied up, and he slapped down a napkin. “What’ll it be?”
    “Are you kidding? White wine. What choice is there in a place like this?”
    “Naah, you’ve got it wrong. It’s an ugly-looking joint, but it’s just a New Orleans crowd—Abita drinkers, most of them.”
    “I’ll have the white wine—it’ll be better for my nerves. How do you stand this place?”
    “How do you think?”
    “Mmm. Good tips, huh?”
    “That and Tricia. I told her you were coming, but she’s real busy. She’ll be along, though.”
    “Hey, bartender! What’s going on?” somebody hollered. Darryl left.
    Skip sipped her wine in lonely splendor, thinking that people-watching wasn’t even fun in a place like this. She shouldn’t have been quite so impulsive.
    Somebody poked her in the ribs. “Skippy Langdon.”
    Tricia hadn’t undergone a transformation, a New York slicking-up, or even the onset of the first wrinkles. She was the same Tricia she’d always been—her face was slightly too long, her freckles still showed, her light brown hair was in a ponytail, and she wore the characteristic look Skip had almost forgotten—a scrutinizing look, as if she were staring down into your brain. If she underwent plastic surgery, it would give her away.
    Skip had had no idea she’d be so glad to see her old friend. Tricia had a tray of used glasses, which meant she couldn’t hug. But she put an arm around Skip’s neck and still managed to balance it.
    Skip said, “You came back and didn’t call me.”
    “Well, frankly, you wouldn’t have been glad to see me. I came back with a little drug problem.”
    “You?” Tricia hadn’t been very adventurous in high school.
    She shrugged. “Disappointment. Poverty. Despair. It’ll get you if you aren’t careful. That and the wrong kind of boyfriend.”
    Skip was too amazed to say a word.
    “I’ll be back. I have to get to work.”
    When she was gone, Darryl appeared and refilled Skip’s glass without being asked. “Glad to see Tricia?”
    “A lot of water under the bridge.”
    He nodded. “She’s been through a lot.” His face was as solemn as she’d ever seen it, except when Sheila was missing.
    Is he in love with her?
    I don’t think so, but on the other hand, why not? Why is he content to be just her friend?
    He said, “We’ve been through a lot together.”
    Drugs? Recovery?
    “A lot of what?”
    He waved a hand, indicating his kingdom. “Oh, three nights a week at this place. Life where there is no life. Adventures among the soulless.”
    “You love your job, I see.”
    A blonde who’d just arrived reached over Skip’s shoulder. “Hey, Darryl.” She pushed past Skip to kiss him.
    “Hey, Gigi.”
    “Could I have an Abita?”
    “You sure can.” He looked slightly uncomfortable.
    “Hey, did I ever tell you how my interview came out?”
    “No. I bet you did great.”
    The woman was literally elbowing Skip out of the way.
    It’s his job, she thought. He’s probably a pal to these people.
    Yeah, and who knows what else?
    She wasn’t jealous so much as uncomfortable. Why didn’t Darryl introduce her and include her?
    She thought she knew the answer—he wanted the blonde to go away, didn’t want to prolong