That causes his eyes to flicker up to mine, his smile growing a bit more mischievous.

“I know how you live,” I continue. “I know that the clothes you wear are expensive as hell . . . and I know you don’t have to go to a dive bar in Harlem to get cheap drinks. It’s totally out of your way and it takes you way out of your element. Yet you’re a regular there. That’s not normal.”

Lander hesitates a moment before lowering the menu. “I like . . . I like the clarity of the people that frequent Ivan’s.”

“Seriously? Most of the people in that bar are too wasted to have clarity about anything.”

“That’s not what I mean . . .” He takes a moment, gathers his thoughts, and starts again. “That girl with the rainbow hair, it took me about fifteen seconds to realize that she has a drug problem.”

“Wow,” I say as I scan the appetizers on the menu. “You’re a real Sherlock Holmes.”

“That’s my whole point.” He picks up the pen and starts drawing on the back of a paper napkin. “I didn’t have to figure it out. If she were advertising her addiction with a neon sign it couldn’t have been any clearer.” From my position I can make out that he’s drawing someone in a biker’s jacket. “That man I got in a fight with, he doesn’t like himself very much, so he uses violence and intimidation to give himself a sense of self-worth. The guy I gave the two hundred dollars to, he’s an alcoholic with no family and no home and a lot of money problems.”

“Lander, he literally told you all that. He stood by your side and he said—”

“I know what he said, I was listening.” His pen is still moving. It’s almost as if he’s unaware he’s the one moving it. It’s like a tic, except in this case his “tic” is creating something rather interesting. “That’s why I like Ivan’s so much. All I have to do is watch and listen to know what the people there are all about. I know what their issues are.” The biker he draws has his fist raised as he shouts at an invisible foe. “The people I work with, the people who live in my sliver of Manhattan, they have a lot of the same issues. But it can take months before you realize that your secretary has a Valium addiction. Alcoholics disguise themselves as wine connoisseurs because they have enough money to float their addiction ‘responsibly,’ and others who aren’t making enough to support their way of life are buttressed by credit cards. You never know what anyone’s issues are.”

“And the bullies?” I ask. The waiter approaches our table, but Lander waves him away.