His Korean father, who was constantly worrying about his half-Korean son fitting in with the best of New York society, agreed and gave his son the sage advice that for a party to be memorable, it needed not only to be lavish but exclusive as well. It was his father’s idea that Steven should restrict his party to only upperclassmen (private school juniors and seniors) even though he was himself only a freshman. And to attract these cool upperclassmen his father paid handsomely for A$AP Rocky to perform. It was his mother’s idea to “paper the party” with twenty young Wilhelmina models paid to be pretend guests, something she had heard about from a friend who made his fortune investing in nightclubs. The original party was an enormous success, and Steven’s reputation as the host-with-the-most (models and booze) was now legendary.

This very party five weeks ago was Dustin’s first time being invited, though he had heard stories about the infamous gathering over the years. When Dustin showed up that night, he had convinced himself that the party, like most things in this town, was more than likely 50 percent hype, but as soon as he entered, he knew he was wrong. This party was unlike anything he had ever seen before.

It was as if Santa Claus had quit the toy-making business and opened a strip club. Sexy models dressed like holiday elves circulated the professionally decorated party, handing out truffle mac-n-cheese balls and poached purple potatoes with caviar. There were two top-shelf liquor bars manned by scantily clad bartenders. (This being her second year as gf of the host, Lolly had made sure there were hot male bartenders as well.) There was a stream of professional DJs who were in charge of the music. And right when you entered the foyer, the first thing you saw was a seven-foot-tall ice sculpture fountain of Rick and Morty, in which champagne poured into Morty’s hand, then would travel through Morty (sitting on Rick’s shoulders), and come out Rick’s “Pickle Rick” dick perfectly chilled.

The fountain was the most Instagrammed photo of the party.

Steven’s parents’ only new rule this year was that there would be no smoking cigarettes inside because of the fifteen-million-dollar Matisse-cigarette-burn incident of last year’s soiree. Solving this problem was easy. They simply opened their roof access, the stairs in the hallway outside of Steven’s front door. (Steven’s parents shared the floor with only one other family and the C.s were gifted the K.s’ Parisian pied-à-terre keys for their holidays to ensure they wouldn’t be home to deal with three-hundred-plus teenagers rampaging on the rooftop.)