American Psycho (Page 138)
"Okay. For three? Five? How many?"
"Five or six, I guess."
"Okay. Hold."
Just as he clicks off, McDermott gets back on.
"Where's Van Patten?" he asks.
"He... had to take a piss," I say.
"Why don't you want to go to Kaktus?"
"Because I'm gripped by an existential panic," I lie.
"You think that's a good enough reason," McDermott says. "I do not."
"Hello?" Van Patten says, clicking back on. "Bateman?"
"Well?" I ask. "McDermott's here too."
"Nope. No way, Jose."
"Shit."
"What's going on?" McDermott asks.
"I could go for a margarita," McDermott says.
"Bateman?" Van Patten asks.
"I would like several bottles of beer, preferably un -Mexican," I say.
"Oh shit," McDermott says. "Call waiting. Hold on." He clicks off.
If I am not mistaken it is now eight-thirty.
An hour later. We're still debating. We have canceled the reservation at Kaktus and maybe someone has remade it. Confused, I actually cancel a nonexistent table at Zeus Bar. Jeanette has left her apartment and cannot be reached at home and I have no idea which restaurant she's going to, nor do I remember which one I told Evelyn to meet us at. Van Patten, who has already had two large shots of Absolut, asks about Detective Kimball and what we talked about and all I really remember is something like how people fail between cracks.
"Did you talk to him?" I ask.
"Yeah, yeah."
"What did he say happened to Owen?"
"Vanished. Just vanished. Poof," he says. I can hear him opening a refrigerator. "No incident. Nothing. The authorities have nada."
"Yeah," I say. "I'm in heavy turmoil over it."
"Well, Owen was... I don't know," he says. I can hear a beer being opened.
"What else did you tell him, Van Patten?" I ask.
"Oh the usual," he sighs. "That he wore yellow and maroon ties. That he had lunch at '21.' That in reality he was not an arbitrageur - which was what Thimble thought he was - but a merger-maker. Only the usual." I can almost hear him shrug.
"What else?" I ask.
"Let's see. That he didn't wear suspenders. A belt man. That he stopped doing cocaine, simpatico beer. You know, Bateman."
"He was a moron," I say. "And now he's in London."
"Christ," he mutters, "general competence is on the f**king decline."
McDermott clicks back on. "Okay. Now where to?"
"What time is it?" Van Patter asks.
"Nine-thirty," both of us answer.
"Wait, what happened to 1969?" I ask van Patter.
"What's this about 1969?" McDermott doesn't have a clue.
"I don't remember," I say.
"Closed. No reservations," Van Patter reminds me.
"Can we get back to 1500?" I ask.
"1500 is now closed," McDermott shouts. "The kitchen is closed. The restaurant is closed. It's over. We have to go to Kaktus."
Silence.
"Bouncy as a beach ball," Van Patter says.
I laugh.
"If you guys think this is funny," McDermott warns.
"Oh yeah, what? What are you going to do?" I ask.
"Guys, it's just that I am apprehensive about failure in terms of securing a table before, like, well, midnight."
"Are you sure about 1500?" I ask. "That seems really bizarre."
"That suggestion is moot!" McDermott screams. "Why, you may ask? Because-they-are-closed! Because-they-are-closed-they-have-stopped-taking-reservations! Are-you-following-this?"
"Hey, no sweat, babe," Van Patter says coolly. "We'll go to Kaktus.
"We have a reservation there in ten, no, fifteen minutes ago," McDermott says.
"But I canceled them, I thought," I say, taking another Xanax.
"I remade them,'. McDermott says.
"You are indispensable," I tell him in monotone.
"I can be there by ten," McDermott says.
"By the time I stop at my automated teller, I can be there by ten-fifteen," Van Patter says slowly, counting the minutes.