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loyal about it?”
    â€œYes.”
    â€œOh hell,” she said.
    I nodded.
    â€œCheatin’ makes it a lot more fun, darlin’,” she said.
    Her southern accent became more pronounced as the champagne bubbled into her system.
    â€œMaybe it’s not always about fun,” I said.
    â€œWell, what in the hell else would it be about?”
    â€œCould be about love,” I said.
    â€œLove?” She laughed. The sound was unpleasant.
    â€œOnly some big dangerous gun-totin’ Yankee would come around talking ’bout love. My God—love!”
    â€œI heard it makes the world go round,” I said.
    â€œMoney makes the world go round, darlin’. And sex makes the trip worthwhile. Sex and money, darlin’. Money and sex.”
    â€œBoth are nice,” I said.
    She picked up the champagne bottle. It was empty. She put it back onto the table.
    â€œDamn,” she said, and half disappeared into her big straw handbag and came out with a bottle of Jack Daniel’s. She handed it to me to open.
    â€œNice.” She laughed the unpleasant laugh again. “There isn’t anything nice down here, darlin’. Nothing nice about the Clives.”
    I put the open bottle of Jack Daniel’s on the table beside the champagne bucket. SueSue took some ice out of the bucket and put it in the cup from which she had been drinking champagne. She picked up the Jack Daniel’s bottle and poured some over the rocks. Holding the bottle, she looked at me. I shook my head. The champagne left in my plastic cup was warm. I put the cup down on the table.
    â€œNothing?” I said.
    SueSue drank some Jack Daniel’s. She neither sipped it nor slugged it. She drank it as she had drunk champagne, in an accomplished manner, doing something she was used to doing.
    â€œWell,” she said, “we’re all good-looking, and mostly we have good manners, ’cept me. I tend maybe to be a little bit too direct for good manners.”
    â€œDirect,” I said, and smiled at her hunkishly. “What’s wrong with your family?”
    â€œThe hell with them,” she said. “Are you going to come on to me or not?”
    â€œLet’s talk a little,” I said.
    She got cagey. “Only if you’ll have little drink with me,” she said.
    I wanted to hear what she had to say. I picked up my cup and took it to the bathroom and emptied the remaining champagne into the sink. Then I came back, put some ice in my plastic cup and poured some whiskey over it.
    â€œNow drink some,” SueSue said.
    I felt like a freshman girl on her first date with a senior. We drank together in silence for a minute or so. I was betting that SueSue couldn’t tolerate silence. I was right.
    â€œWhat was it you were asking me about, darlin’?”
    â€œYou,” I said. “Tell me about you.”
    More than one way to ask a question.
    â€œI’m a Clive,” she said.
    â€œIs that complicated?”
    She shook her head sadly.
    â€œI think one of our ancestors must have stolen something from a tomb,” she said.
    â€œFamily curse?”
    â€œWe’re all corrupt,” she said. “Drunks, liars, fornicators.”
    â€œYou too?” I said.
    â€œMe especially,” she said. “Hell, why do you think I’m married to Fred Flintstone?”
    â€œLove?” I said.
    She made a nasty sound, which might have been a contemptuous laugh.
    â€œThere you go again,” she said. “Daddy wanted his girls married. He wanted them out of the clubs and off their backs and in a marriage. He wanted sons-in-law to inherit the business. Pud was what there was.”
    â€œStonie too?”
    â€œDon’t get me started on Stonie and Cord.”
    â€œWhy not?”
    â€œDon’t get me started,” she said.
    â€œOkay.”
    SueSue had a drink of whiskey.
    â€œHow about Penny?” I said. “She’s not