Drew Smith - Arcade

I felt anxious and reluctant, but I envisioned an air of festive abandon at The Old San Francisco Steakhouse in its final days that I hoped would carry over to us and fill us with the same. I arrived on time, and saw Malcolm already seated at the bar. All day I had taken comfort in the fact that he didn’t know what I looked like. But he happened to be looking at me the moment I saw him, and he recognized me recognizing him. He raised his eyebrows and smiled, and I smiled back.

I walked over to him, and he held out his hand and shook mine. Then he rose and put his arms around me. Malcolm was taller than I had imagined him. He was wearing a pressed white shirt, tailored black pants, expensive leather shoes, and a beautiful wristwatch. He smelled like sophistication itself, something very subtle, a light cologne, or maybe he had just been burning a candle at his house.

I felt silly by comparison, in dark jeans and a buttoned-up short-sleeved shirt, smelling of Irish Spring and Speed Stick deodorant.

“You should have shown me your face sooner,” he said, pulling away to look at me. “You’re handsome, you know it?”

“You just have low standards,” I said.

“Oh, please. Follow me. I’ve got a table waiting.”

I followed Malcolm and saw his nice back and broad shoulders. He weighed about twenty pounds more than I expected, but he wore it well. He was an attractive guy. It was true that he seemed different than the cop and the guys at the arcade. But he was handsome and kind.

I looked around and saw that The Old San Francisco Steakhouse wasn’t a bustling carnival in its final days. Though a pianist pounded out lively music on a big, black piano near the bar, the famous swing hung limp. The cavernous restaurant was less than a quarter full, and the wait staff wore what were obviously the toned-down who-cares versions of their usual uniforms. Vests without ties. Ties without vests. Their white dress shirts dirty or with sleeves rolled to the elbow.

We sat down at a table, and a waiter came and dropped a giant cutting board with Swiss cheese and two big menus.

A few minutes later, we both ordered beer and steaks, and looked at one another smiling and unsure how to proceed.

“Is this as bad as you thought?” he said.

“Worse.”

“Not really.”

“No, it’s fine. I’m glad to meet you. I just hope it doesn’t change things.”

“Everything changes everything. But I’m glad to meet you, Sam. I really am.”

“I’m glad to meet you too. Do I look how you thought I would?”

“Not exactly. I like the way you look more than I thought I would. I mean it, you’re handsome.”

“I am not. Not as handsome as Ethan the bellboy, I bet.”

“Let’s not get into that again. Tell me, are there any updates about the cop and the kid?”

“Not really. The cruise is next week, and they seem to be getting better, so I guess they’re going. I did something I shouldn’t have done and deleted an email from the kid to the cop.”

He shook his head. “What could you be thinking when you do this stuff, Sam?”

“I don’t know. I just got so frustrated the other day. It was really stupid.”

“You definitely can’t go on like this.”

“I know. It felt really bad.”

“Is the six months up?”

“Practically, yeah.”

“You think you’ll be able to move on soon?”

“I guess I might not have a choice. I thought if I held on hard enough something would change and things would swing in my favor, but now it looks like it’ll never happen.”

“Yeah, that’s the way it goes sometimes. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. I just have to figure out what to do next.”

“I think it’ll be good.”

“Yeah, maybe.”

“Like maybe you’ll get another job. Something that requires more of your brain.”

“That would be good. Anyway, let’s not talk about me the whole time. Is everything going okay in Boston?”

“Yeah, things are great actually. I can finally see the light at the end of the tunnel. It’s been such a huge project, but I’m feeling good about it, and I’m going to get a big bonus, which is always good.”

“So it’s almost over?”

“Yep. Which is perfect because Ron is really tired of living in different places. Neither one of us are cut out for the long distance thing.”

“You still feel good about Ron?”

“Absolutely. Ron’s great. I’d really like to introduce the two of you sometime.”

“Like that would ever happen.”

“Why shouldn’t it?”

“How would you explain how we know one another?”

“There’s always a way. I’m not worried about that. At the very worst we could tell the truth. You’d like Ron. He’s an interesting guy. He’s funny and cynical like you.”

While we ate, a girl in a frilly vaudeville dress came out and stood on the bar. The man on the piano said into a microphone, “Please put your hands together for Missy!”

We clapped.

The girl sat on the swing and began to rock to and fro, back and forth until she was so high she could kick a bell attached to the ceiling. She kept swinging until she could twist the opposite direction on the backswing and slap another bell on the opposite side of the restaurant. Malcolm and I watched and cheered, as did everyone in the place, including the waiters.

The man at the piano spoke into a microphone. “Tonight is the last performance for Missy, who is moving on to bigger and better things. Please give her a big round of applause.”

Everyone clapped, and Missy — still swinging back and forth — waved.

“As many of you know, this is our last weekend here at The Old San Francisco Steakhouse. We’ve had a great time here, acting like a bunch of big kids. I’d probably get fired any other time for saying this, but please tip your server generously tonight, and if you know of anyone who’s hiring, let them know.”

Missy performed twice more before the check came.

Malcolm insisted on paying, even though I kept saying we should split the check.

While the waiter was away with his credit card, I said, “I hope you know how much I appreciate you. You might have saved my life.”

“Oh, now you’re giving me too much credit. But I’ll take it. I like you, Sam. And I really do think you’re going to be fine. I’m glad we’re friends.”

“Me too,” I said.

In the parking lot, I assumed we’d hug and part ways, but Malcolm said, “I’ve been trying to work up the nerve to ask you to show me the arcade. It’s been ages, and you piqued my interest. Do you have time to take me there?”

“Seriously?”

“I could follow you out in my car. Ron’s not going to be home for a couple of hours.”

“I don’t know,” I said. “Should we?”

“Why not?”

“Okay,” I said. “I guess.”

I drove, and Malcolm followed in a black BMW. There were only five or six other vehicles in the lot. It was early for a Saturday night.

“This is it,” I said. “It’s still pretty quiet. It’ll pick up later.”

“This looks a lot nicer than the one I used to go to,” he said.

“We can’t talk a lot inside, you know.”

“This isn’t my first rodeo, Sam.”

We pushed through the doors. The bouncer was at the counter. I bought three dollars worth of tokens and Malcolm did the same. We walked around the store.

I whispered a few things to him, about how there was a smoking hallway and a nonsmoking hallway. The guys who were out there must have been in booths, because we didn’t see anyone in the store.

“I want to check out a movie,” Malcolm said.

“You want me to come with you?”

“What, are you kidding? Come on.”

I followed Malcolm into the nonsmoking hallway. There were a few lights lit, but he chose a booth away from the others.