Zeni and Dicky are at a nightclub with Dicky’s brother, Ricky, and friend, Terry, when Dicky keeps disappearing. Part of the scene is laid out here:
“I’ll be right back. That tequila just didn’t agree with me,” Dicky said a few minutes later before disappearing across the club into a fog of dry ice and strobe lights. Micky took a seat in the booth next to Terry.
“All right, Micky. What in the hell’s going on?” I asked, pushing the upper part of Terry’s body into the back of the booth to give me a clear line of vision to Micky. “Dicky’s like Houdini tonight. One minute he’s here, and the next, he’s vamoosed.”
“Uh, uh . . . he’s uh, uh . . .”
“You and everyone else here have avoided making eye contact with me. And Dicky’s completely ignored me, like I have the plague or something. Now what in the hell’s going on? Come on. Spill it.”
“Nothing’s going on,” Micky replied, looking at the ceiling.
“You did it again. You won’t even look at me,” I said, growing increasingly frustrated. “I’ve had enough of this bullshit. I’m going to find Dicky.”