“Similar,” Quentin said. “I got a letter. I was going to ignore it, but then I found myself suddenly without employment. I was curious. And here we are.”

“Don’t get me wrong,” she said, “I do feel some responsibility for that.”

“Forget about it.”

“I just—”

“Seriously, forget it. I made my own choices.”

He said it without heat. It was the truth.

“So do you think we can pull this thing off?”

“I have no idea,” Quentin said. “That bird is spending a lot of money. It has to be reasonably confident.”

“Or reasonably desperate.”

Quentin could feel the martini doing its wintery work, frosting over his mind, silvering over his frontal lobes, preparing the ground for a proper hard freeze. He hadn’t eaten dinner, and it was coming on fast. He thought he might just order another one.

“Do you miss Brakebills?”

She didn’t look at him. On TV, a headed ball pinged off the crossbar.

“Of course I do,” he said. “All the time. But I’m getting used to it. It’s not the worst feeling in the world. And there’s a lot more to life than school. I’m trying to make the most of it.”

“Now you do sound like a Pollyanna.”

Quentin grinned. It was pretty clear that Plum was going to get through this—she was young and unworldly but she was also very tough. And very smart. Maybe they could help each other. He caught the bartender’s eye and tapped his glass.

“I’ll tell you what I’m wondering about,” he said. “I’m wondering about how we’re going to get that suitcase open, if the Couple can’t.”

“I have a theory about that. I don’t think you’ll like it though.”

“Why not?”

“Because I don’t like it,” Plum said. “There’s something about me you should probably—”

“Chochachos!” Somebody clapped them both on the shoulder at the same time. It was Stoppard. “What are we drinking?”

He looked happy the way only somebody who was inebriated for the first time in his life could be happy. It was incredible that they were even serving him here, considering that he was both underage and overdrunk. He frowned at them blearily.

“Wait,” he said. “You two know each other or something? From before?”

“You could say that,” Quentin said.

“It’s not what you think,” said Plum.

“Uh-huh.” Stoppard leered knowingly.

“It really isn’t.”

“I just ruined his life, that’s all,” Plum said. “And mine. And I think maybe I’ll have that drink now after all.”

CHAPTER 7

You could say it all started out as an innocent prank, but that wouldn’t strictly be true. Even Plum had to admit it wasn’t all that innocent. And maybe, deep down, that was why she did it.