Of course, because of their social clout, there was a picture of Chandler and Paige from last year-the honeymoon shot. The maitre d, a guy who looked like his name should have been Guido but turned out to be Max, asked them both to sign it. They did, and he re-hung it in a place of prominence, up front.
Then a strange thing happened. My wife and the Ellises seemed to hit it off. I'm always surprised when this occurs because, in my mind, Evelyn's flaws so outweigh her good points that I tend to focus exclusively on them.
But on a good day, when she's trying to be nice, Evelyn can be quite charming, and like I said, from the neck down, you can't find a more toney-looking woman. This evening, in preparation for our dinner with the Ellises, she had dressed way down. Gone was the push-up water bra, the Lycra pantsuit, and crop-top, navel-baring ensemble. Her show-stopping cleavage was modestly out of view. In its place, new duds: a tasteful, silk Perry Ellis blouse; tailored Dior slacks; jeweled Manolo Blahnik sandals. Grand totaclass="underline" $1,793, plus tax. But at least the outfit wasn't one of her tit-baring, all-hanging-out-and-inyour-face specials like the ones she usually wears.
Evelyn and Paige chatted about Paige's art and the children she and Chandler were planning to eventually have. It came out that Paige's wedding and engagement rings were being resized because they had almost come off in the water two days ago, clearing up that mystery.
"It's amazing. She takes off her rings and all of a sudden, every unattached Romeo on the beach thinks it's his cue to turn into a complete ass," Chandler said, shaking his head.
"Unbelievable," I agreed, sheepishly.
Evelyn and I both told lies about Melissa… said she was planning on college in two years. But after looking at her last two report cards, the only way I could see her getting into a university was if the Devil's Disciples opened a pharmaceutical college to teach better chemistry to that bunch of stringy-haired crystal cookers who kept blowing up their mobile homes in the Angeles Crest mountains.
Chandler and I talked about L. D. kids, something I had to struggle to stay focused on. I was still trying to keep from gawking at Paige.
Of course she recounted the story of my heroic shark rescue. "You never told me about that," Evelyn smiled, acting amused and pleased, when I knew she was pissed to the core that I'd kept it from her.
"It was nothing, really." As this ridiculous cliche popped out of my mouth, Evelyn rolled her eyes, a look that said I was gonna catch hell over this later.
A little further into the evening, I hit them with my next clever plan. I'd been working on it all afternoon.
"You know what might be kinda fun?" I said, softly, dangling it like fresh bait over a still pond.
"What?" they all asked, thinking I had a great idea for where to go for a nightcap. But my idea was far more complex than that, more devious and infinitely subtler. "I was thinking it might be fun to get a few of Paige's paintings and see if we could sell them on bestmarket. Com, maybe raise her artistic visibility with an Internet marketing campaign."
"Really?" Paige said, leaning forward. "I'm not sure I'm ready."
"Honey, I've been saying for years you should have your own art show," Chandler chimed in. "If we could afford it, I'd pay for it myself."
At first I was thinking, Who the fuck is he kidding? This guy's family builds music centers, owns media companies, and he can't rent a one-room studio for an art show? But it came out a few minutes later that he'd turned his entire trust fund over to an L. D. Foundation he had formed and now managed, for almost no salary, drawing off most of the funds for brain research. I'm telling you, there were times with this guy Chandler where my gag reflex was on overload.
"We could sell Paige's art on the Internet," I continued. "I get millions of hits a day. We could build a website, call it the Art Paige, spelled like your name, scan a few of your paintings on there, and set up an online auction."
"We could even say the money was going to go for Chandler's L. D. Foundation," Paige suggested, sparking immediately to my idea.
"Right. Maybe bestmarket. Com could match anything we raised," I enthused. Of course, if it was over a few thousand, we'd have to take out an IOU on my car to cover it.
I glanced over and caught a dark look passing across Evelyn's face. She doesn't like giving away any of my money. She'd rather spend it herself. I was going to have to be more careful, lest my clandestine motives unexpectedly porpoise into full view.
"Anyway, it might be kind of fun to see what happens," I concluded.
"I could help Paige design the web page," my wife unexpectedly offered, leaning forward and smiling. "I have my master's degree in marketing from Stanford."
She did, too, but it had never been worth much to us, because even though Evelyn had a master's in marketing, she had a doctorate in shopping, so we were destined to lose fiscal ground annually.
"It's worth a try," I said.
"We don't want to take advantage," Chandler cautioned.
"He's right. I mean, you're so busy," Paige added. "We don't want to be a burden."
"Nonsense," I thundered extravagantly.
"It'll be fun," Evelyn shrieked and clapped.
"Well, okay… why not?" Paige said, and she reached out and took Evelyn's hand.
Chandler took mine and I took Evelyn's. Of course, Chandler and Paige were already holding hands. They always held hands, so now we had a ring of clasped hands, all of us smiling.
"To new friendships:' I said, and we all reached for our wineglasses. "New friendships," they caroled.
Okay, okay, not exactly the Peace Conference at Malta, I admit, but not bad, all things considered. I had managed to go from a leering pool-cabana stalker to a "new friend," and it had taken me all of two and a half days. Better still, I had involved Evelyn in the plan so she wouldn't be a liability, and we could all interact as couples, which I have come to learn is the best way to do it. I've sold half a dozen accounts this way. When you include wives, it gets everybody's guard down.
We left Correlli's and all walked along the beach back to the hotel. The moon was full and the water lapped over our toes. We carried our shoes, with Paige and Chandler walking ahead of us, arm in arm. Evelyn and I held hands in a decent imitation of marital bliss, although, to be honest, her hand was no delicate bird's wing. It was hard as a blacksmith's anvil, cold and damp. She applied no pressure. I've held dead trout that communicated more emotion.
When we arrived at the Four Seasons, Evelyn and I said good night and left Chandler and Paige on the beach.
I was feeling pretty good about all of this until I looked back and saw them standing in the sand, lit by a three-quarter moon, kissing each other, locked in a passionate embrace.
That night in our bedroom, I did something I hadn't done in months. I made love to Evelyn, all the time pretending I was having sex with Paige. My fevered imagination transformed Evelyn's muscled body into Paige's soft goddess proportions. I got so sexed up I had a diamond-cutter erection. You could have bludgeoned a baby seal to death with that hard-on. When she was close to climax, I thought I heard Evelyn grunt, "More, Mickey, more!" which sort of ruined it.
When it was over, we lay in an exhausted embrace.
"What got into you?" Evelyn asked. "Man, you were pneumatic." "Did you just call me Mickey?" I asked, my voice flat with suspicion.
"Honestly, Chick, where do you come up with this shit?" Then she got out of bed to go to the bathroom and left me there. It pissed me off, but I didn't dwell on it, because I was more resolved than ever to get out of the marriage. One way or the other, I was determined to move on, to become Paige Ellis's lover.