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to
drink, which I’ve witnessed a few times too many.   But I doubt that’s the case here.   And I am prepared.   Minus the dress, the shoes, and the
jewels, I think I’ve been where you are now.   Only several years ago.   It was heaven and hell, all at
once.”   She tucked her legs beneath
her, but then she untucked them and stood.   “What am I thinking?   You need a martini.   That will loosen you up enough to talk.   I want the good shit.   Be right back.”
    “Do
we have good vodka?”
    “You
know we do.   We can afford it
now.   What’s wrong with you?”
    “I
think I have amnesia.”
    “Sweetie,
you’re just horny.   You’re a vessel
of pulsing hormones.   It’ll
pass.   Let me get you a drink.   It’ll numb the pain.   Or whatever it is your going through.”
    “That
would be a mystery,” I said.
    Then
I told her about the facts of my night.

 
 
    *   *   *

 
 
    “He
did what?”
    “You
heard me.”
    “And you did what?”
    “You
heard me.”
    “I
can’t believe this.   Who are you?”
    “I
don’t know anymore.”
    “Let
me see the photos.”
    “Oh,
come on.”
    “We
share everything.   Do you really
expect me not to ask to see them?   Come on, Jennifer!   You can’t
give me a blow-by-blow like that and expect me not to ask to see the photos.”
    “Fine.   But let’s just say it’s not my proudest
moment.”
    “Who
cares?   For you to trust someone
like that says it all to me.   I said
it earlier and I’ll say it again—you’re in deep.   I just didn’t realize how deep.”
    I
got my phone and brought up the photograph he sent.   I showed it to her.   Greedily, she took my cell from my hand.
    “Holy
shit.   I’ve seen photos of him
online, but not like this.   He’s
hotter than I thought.   Look at that
chest, never mind his abs.   As busy
as he is, where does he find time to stay in that kind of shape?   And look at that smirk on his face.   You know, if my apocalyptic zombie books
ever get made into a movie, I’d want the lead actor to look like him.   Or, frankly, to be him.”
    “I
don’t think Alex acts.”
    “But
I bet he could finance the project.   I’ve done my research.   Part
of Wenn is Wenn Entertainment!”
    “You’re
killing me.”
    She
looked at his photo again, and sighed.   “He’s totally into this.”   She looked up in approval.   “Good for you, sweetie.   Really.   Now, where’s that
photo of you?”
    “You
don’t want to see that.”
    “Oh,
yes, I do.”
    “Just
swipe to the next image then.”
    She
did.   I winced.   And then, for whatever reason, she was
silent for a moment.   I’d gone too
far.   I knew it.   But then she said, “Hello, Victoria’s
Secret supermodel.   Look at
you.   And tasteful, too.   Nice bit of cleavage.   Love the hair covering the boobs, but
just showing a trace of lace.   And
you’re biting your lip, your eyes are closed, and your head is pressed
back.   It’s obvious you’re in the
back of a limo.   This must have
slayed him.   Well played, love.   Well played.   It’s as if Mario Testino took this shot,
only with a Warhol edge.”
    “Mario
who?”
    “You
wouldn’t understand.”
    “Is
he one of your fashion photographers?”
    “He’s
one of the fashion photographers.   Think Madonna, Madonna,
Madonna—throughout the years.   And many other famous women.”   She admired the photo a moment more before handing me back my cell.   “I bet that made Alex second guess
everything.”
    “After
he received it, he wanted to ask the driver to turn the limo around.   I told him that wasn’t happening because
I think he’s right.   This should
build.   I want it to build.”
    “Are
we building a two-story home?   Or a
skyscraper?”
    “Definitely
not a skyscraper.”
    “Well,
that’s good.”
    “But
I will wait as long as it takes for it to feel right.”
    “When
it does happen, you better be ready for that, honey.   Because