The place was packed with Egg School regulars, record nerds from Ol’ Vinylsides, SVA art students, and all the other wonderful Barter Street ilks. I was proud of myself—I’d finally had a flyer to leave at Hartford, and sure enough, Marty was there in his porkpie hat. I had worn KitKat’s red dress even though I hadn’t sewn the torn sleeve back on, hiding the damage under a gray cardigan. “I brought this for the Irony Auction,” I said to Natalie, holding out The Bridge. She rolled her eyes and snorted. “You’d have to pay someone to take it.” I sighed and shoved it back into my lobster tote bag. Sid was already there and two drinks in, but he was clean shaven and bright eyed. He gave me a heavy, half-drunk hug and shoved a glass of boxed wine into my hand. “Terry said we can borrow his car!” he shouted over Chicken Puppet’s cover of Head East’s “Never Been Any Reason.” “He wants us to do him a favor first, but he won’t tell me what. I’ll let you know, though.”
