The first time you meet the Bone, at Bowery Bar with Stanford at his side, you want to hate him. He's twenty-two. A model. Et cetera. You pretty much sense that he wants to hate you, too. Is he going to be really stupid? Besides, you don't think sex symbols are ever really sexy in person. The last one you met reminded you of a worm. Literally.
But not this one. He's not exactly what he appears to be.
"I have different personalities with different people," he says.
Then you lose him in the crowd.
About two months later, you're at that model's birthday party at Barocco, and you run into the Bone. He's standing across the room, leaning against the bar, and he's smiling at you. He waves. You go over. He keeps hugging you, and photographers keep taking your picture. Then, you somehow end up sitting across the table from him. You and your friend are having this huge, never-ending, heated argument.
The Bone keeps leaning over and asking you if you're okay. And you say yes, thinking he doesn't understand that you and your friend always talk to each other that way.
Stanford, who knows everyone in Hollywood, sends the Bone out to L.A. to go on auditions for small parts in movies. He leaves Stanford a message. "Everyone's talking about you," he says. "You are so great. You're going to be a star. Have I told you that enough times yet? You're a star, you're a star, you're a star."
Stanford is laughing. "He's imitating me," he says.
You and the Bone get drunk at Bowery Bar.