The group convened at two tall high-top tables. Ganesh and Woo-jin headed to the bar to get some pitchers.

As usual, all male eyes were on Kala. She was used to it, Matt supposed. The subtle and not so subtle glances, leering from older men who knew better.

“Look, an old jukebox,” Sofia said. She grabbed Kala by the arm. “We’ll be right back.”

The girls walked confidently through the crowd and leaned over the smudged glass of the jukebox, pointing and giggling. The crunchy opening riff to “Highway to Hell” by AC/DC soon filled the bar. Matt got a lump in his throat listening to one of his father’s favorite bands.

“You okay?” Curtis asked.

“It’s surreal. Being back here.” He looked over at the jukebox again. Two men were talking with the girls. Sofia laughed at something one of them said. Kala paid them no mind, her standard MO.

“When did you all get here?” Matt said. “I mean, how’d you beat me here?”

“Ganesh sent a group text this morning,” Curtis said. “He’d bought everyone tickets and booked a block of rooms.”

Some say the rich are different. In many ways Ganesh was not. He was actually pretty normal by NYU standards: a bright kid living in a crappy apartment, who spent a lot of time smoking weed and trying to hook up with girls. But he was different. Beyond his eccentricities, Ganesh was uncompromising. A concert they all wanted to see sold out? He’d hire the musician to play at a private party. His friends couldn’t afford spring break? He’d charter a plane and rent a beach house. Hamilton tickets? Easy. Reservations at the Polo Bar? No problem. Ganesh didn’t care about material things. He valued experiences and friendship. Money was always available, an afterthought, a means to an end. The rich were indeed different.

Curtis pondered Matt at length. “Are you sure you’re okay? If you want to talk, want to get out of here, we can—”

“No,” Matt said. “Seeing you, having us all together like normal, it’s exactly what I needed.”

The girls found their way back. “Where the fuck are those drinks?” Kala said. She looked over to the bar.

“Were those guys bothering you?” Matt asked.

“We live in New York. I think we’ll be fine, Dad,” she replied.

Matt smiled. He preferred edge to pity any day of the week.

Laughing, Sofia said, “Their names were Stormy and Lightning. They told me their brother’s name is Thunder. I shit you not.”

Ganesh and Woo-jin finally arrived, each carrying a pitcher. Woo-jin also held a glass of water for Curtis.