Like Dizzy Gillespie's Cheeks

Twelve

"I just realized, the last time I saw you in a tux, I predicted you'd have sex that night."

"Didn't everyone have sex on my wedding night?"

Max is the only guy I truly envy. Good looking, smart, and implausibly personable. But the best thing about him is, whether he's up or he's down, his disposition remains optimistic.

Confidence like that, like there's something he knows that makes everything work out, intimidates me. It's almost as though he knows something I don't. Like we've read the same chapter, but when he is questioned about it, he knows the answer and I'm not sure if I was even reading the same book.

"I hate these fucking black tie things. Nothing but posers and malcontents."

Max gave me the admonishing lowered eye. "Yeah, tough gig. Free food, free booze, and more eligible woman in one room than you've seen in all your life."

"Fuck you," I said lovingly.

Both our heads slowly tracked this tall, leggy, braless woman who had the nerve of crossing in front of us. We both journeyed to our own private worlds.

"Tracy coming?" I broke the befuddlement.

"Asshole. I can look."

"Sure you can."

"Speaking of strange," he said with a wink, "I got the oddest call from Liz this afternoon."

"That's not saying much. Why'd you invite her?"

"She's a friend, Sammy."

Across the room, in front of a huge, oddly shaped painting, stood a woman with a sense of grace, long auburn hair, and a habit of lifting her hand in front of her mouth when she laughed. It was Kate Buckley.

"Speaking of Kate Buckley, I've got a serious bone to pick with you."

"Sammy, I thought you'd be thanking me."

"For what?"

"You are still heterosexual."

"For your information, Max, she's rude, knows nothing about music, and I think she smokes."

"And she's got a great career, she's very single, and has exquisite breasts."

For once, none of that mattered. Max waved Kate over.

She looked and squinted as if to see whom it was that was waving to her, and then waved back and excused herself from some bloated man whose tux was cut of leather. I feigned not to be interested as she approached, but it was difficult when the light of the museum lit her like she was art in the exhibit. Besides, Max was right about her breasts—they were exquisite.

As Kate approached in the front, a female voice squeaked from behind.

"Hey, guys, is this a fucking great scene or what?" It was Liz.