“You’re disgusting, Lolly,” shouted a lanky redhead standing behind the bar, which appeared to be fashioned from a single slice of some massive tree. The redhead was dressed in a paisley shirt, open to reveal chest hair, and plunking oversized ice cubes into crystal glasses with a pair of tongs.

“You’re a loser, Harris,” shouted Lolly. Then: “Claudia!”

Trevor watched Ben see Claudia. Watched his face brighten into a smile. Fuck, he thought. I’m going back to the dorm alone.

“Come on, pretty lady,” said Ben. “First puff is yours.”

Claudia went to him. She sat down and inhaled and let him stroke her hair.

“You all good?” he asked.

She looked at Ben and for a moment Trevor thought she was going to kiss him. He felt his heart shudder. But then her face reset. Claudia nodded, sucked on the joint a second time, and looked up at Trevor. “You want?”

“I’m good,” he said. He hadn’t smoked since getting arrested and tonight didn’t seem like the night to restart.

“Who’s your friend, Claudia?” asked Lolly, descending the winding stone staircase from the balcony. Her dress looked like it was made from Kleenex and her feet were bare. Lolly put her hand on Trevor’s shoulder, let her fingers slide down to his elbow. He looked at Claudia and stiffened, but she didn’t seem to care.

“This is Trevor,” Claudia said.

“You go to NYU?” asked Lolly. “What are you studying?” Before he could answer, Lolly continued. “I really hope you don’t say business. Every fucking guy I meet says he’s studying business. Come on! Doesn’t anybody study art anymore? Or history? Or fucking literature?” She punctuated each syllable of the final word with a faux British flourish.

Ben chuckled.

“Because,” said Adrienne, “you can’t make money in art or history or fucking literature. We’ve been arguing about this. My sister has decided she wants to marry an artist.”

“Not marry. And not just an artist. Somebody who can, like, build stuff. Like, an installation artist. You know that guy I was dating, the one from Geneva? He literally couldn’t rehang a picture that fell off the wall at his apartment. He called the super.”

“You broke up with him over that?” said Ben. “You ladies are cold.”

“He broke up with her,” said Adrienne.

“It was mutual,” said Lolly. “Anyway, back to the point. Which is that a man should have practical skills. He should be able to build things.”

“What do you need built, Lolly?” asked Harris.

“Nothing!”

“We get it, love,” said Ben. “You want a real man.”

“Exactly. A real man.”

“Trevor, do you want a beer?” asked Harris

“Sure,” said Trevor.

“At your service!” Harris saluted, pulled a tall glass from the wall of stemware behind him, then bent down and brought up a bottle of beer and poured slowly. “I’m working on the foam issue.”