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appealing
    “And the great thing about our
products,” the woman continued, “is that they can double as children’s toys! “
    “I’m sorry, what did you just
say?” I asked instantly snapping out of my visualization exercise.
    “You see, since they do look a little
like children’s toys and they are waterproof your kids can use them as bath toys. That way if
they hear the buzzing sound after you’ve put them to bed they’ll simply assume
mommy’s having her bath!   Just a
clever use of sound association.”
    I stared at her as I hovered
between horror and amusement.   “You
do know that children often put bath toys in their mouths, right?”
    “Oh, no worries! They can’t choke
on these.”
    “Well, okay, maybe not but…you
know how moms say, don’t put that in your mouth you don’t know where it’s been?
In this case the mom will actually know where it’s been and that’s a big problem.”
    “Which is why we have this!” the
woman crossed to the other end of the table and came back with some kind of
spray.    “Sterilizer.   Spray it with this, wait ten minutes
and your toy’s ready to go.“
    “Yeah, I don’t think you’re
getting my point. It’s not really a hygiene problem, at least not entirely.
Sometimes it really is the thought that counts.”
    The woman furrowed her brow in
confusion as Dena made a note in her iPhone to order the ten-minute
sanitizer.   “The thought of what?”
the woman asked.   “The thought of
an anteater? Because we have an octopus too—“
    “No!” I snapped. “That’s. Not.
The. Point!”
    Dena stuffed her phone back in
her handbag. “Actually I’d like to see the octopus.   Does each tentacle do its own thing or do they work in
unison?”
    “Each tentacle has its own
function,” the saleswoman assured her as she handed over the octopus.
    “Dena, this is insane! No one who
shops at your store is going to want…wait, each tentacle has its own function? What do
they do?”
    Dena gave me an evil smile. “It
gives a whole new twist to The Beatle’s Octopus’ Garden, doesn’t it?”
    My phone rang and I reluctantly
stepped away from the table.   Marcus’ number flashed across the screen.   “Hey Marcus, just in time.   I was about to be eaten by an octopus.”
    There was a long pause before
Marcus cleared his throat. “Sweetie, do me a favor and don’t tell me what
that’s a metaphor for.   I’m at
Hotel Noir now.”
    “Really? You’ve already dropped
your stuff off at Encore and everything?” I glanced at my watch.   “But your flight only landed thirty
minutes ago.”
    “We landed early. Hon, I have to
tell you something.”
    Immediately my heart sank as my
mind raced through the various possibilities of what else could go wrong in my
life.   “Should I have a drink
before I hear this?”
    “Most definitely. Why don’t I
just circle back to the Encore and we’ll meet at the bar there.”
    I pulled the phone away from my
ear for a moment. “Dena, it’s Marcus. He wants to meet at the Encore rather than
the Hotel Noir.”
    “Tell him no,” Dena said,
somewhat distracted by the octopus which was vibrating so hard it was about to
launch itself off the table.   “I’ve
been wanting to see the Hotel Noir since it opened.   You know they have a theater in the hotel, right? They have
an eleven o’clock showing of The Maltese Falcon. I was thinking we could see it
after we have drinks.”
    “The Maltese Falcon.” I
repeated.   Without hesitation I
brought the phone back to my ear.   “We’re meeting you at the Hotel Noir at…oh, you know, at the bar we
originally agreed on…um, Double Indemnity, right?”
    “Yes, that’s the place but
Sophie, I really don’t think this is a good—”
    “And check the theater in the
hotel.   See if you can get three
tickets for the eleven o’clock showing of The Maltese Falcon.   I’m coming now.”
    I hung up the phone and turned to
Dena.   “Humphrey Bogart and