Marianne and Greg were standing in the bar line chatting. Greg saw Ben approaching, threw his arm around Ben, and squeezed his neck tightly in the crook of his arm. “My old buddy!” he screamed. “Ben! How’s it going, big guy?”
Ben wasn’t sure if Greg was drunk or if this was just his boisterous way of maintaining his status as the prince of party animals. “I’m fine, Greg. Nice coat, by the way.”
“What, this old rag?” He flashed his lightweight cashmere jacket. “You like the way it hangs?”
“Well, I like it better than that white Brideshead Revisited number you wore the first day of work.”
“Yeah, I thought it was time for an image revamp. This makes me look more like a regular guy, don’t you think?”
“Greg … that’s cashmere.”
Greg glanced at his jacket. “Huh. Yeah, I guess it is. Hey, this is some party, isn’t it? I bet Marianne had no idea the perks would start perking this soon, huh?” He jabbed Marianne in the side. “And I guess we’ve got you to thank for this one, Ben-man!” He gave Ben another squeeze around the shoulders. “You’re some kind of animal, big guy.”
Ben nodded pleasantly.
“Hey,” Greg said, his eyes suddenly growing as wide as his smile. “Remember that time at the Bare Fax, you and me? Was that awesome or what?” Greg laughed heartily enough for both of them, which was fortunate, since Ben wasn’t laughing.
“Yeah, those were the days,” Ben said. He couldn’t believe they were reminiscing about an event from last week as if it were a golden memory from yesteryear.
Greg took a gin and tonic from the bartender. “Well, I better move on. More flesh to press and shareholders to impress.” He socked Ben on the side of his arm. “But I guess you know all about that, huh, big guy?” Greg turned away and blended into the crowd.
Ben and Marianne looked at one another. “What the hell was that all about?” Ben asked.
Marianne smiled thinly. “I think you just got promoted from fellow associate to big guy,” she answered. She took her rum and Coke from the bartender.
“I guess he heard the announcement about in-house counsel.”
“Apparently,” Marianne said. “Especially the part about how you’d be assigning Sanguine work to attorneys of your choice.”
“Really?” Ben responded. “I didn’t know that.” Marianne stared at him. “Talk about the way of the world. If you’re a woman, you can bust your butt your whole life and never get a decent job. If you’re a man, they fall into your lap so fast, you don’t even know what you’ve got.”
Ben took his Seven-Up from the bartender. He noticed that Marianne had changed her hairstyle. Her straight black hair was pulled back in a tight bun.
“I guess that’s intended to make you look more professional?” Ben asked.
“What? Oh, the hairdo. Yeah, well …”
“At least you’re not still worrying about your name,” Ben said.
“I’m not,” Marianne said, “but that reminds me. Have you met my date?” Ben shook his head. “He’s around here somewhere. Tall, good-looking fellow. Thick mustache. His name is Kevin. Actually, his full name is Charles Kevin Bryant. He’s an architect. But I can’t decide whether I should introduce him as Kevin or Charles. You know, to make the right impression.” She reflected for a moment. “Maybe C. Kevin.”
C. Kevin? Ben tried to keep a straight face. C. Kevin walk. C. Kevin run. “Not very conversational, is it?”
“I suppose not. But Kevin sounds so little-kiddish. I want people to understand that he, too, is a young professional. I don’t want anybody to get the idea that I’m going out with a bum.” She took a drink from her rum and Coke. “What do you think, Ben? I trust your judgment. I want to do the right thing.”
“I’m sure you will,” he murmured.
Marianne adjusted her glasses and peered over Ben’s shoulder. “Oh my God, Ben,” she said slowly. “You’re not going to believe this.”
Ben turned to look in the same general direction as Marianne. Alvin was just arriving—and Alvin had brought a date.
Ben started to look away, but before he could, Alvin caught his eye. He started walking in Ben’s direction.
“I suppose you know who she is,” Ben said under his breath.
“Do I look like a hermit?” Marianne responded. “Of course I know.”
Alvin walked up to Ben, all smiles, and thrust his hand forward. “Shake, partner.” Marianne received the same jovial treatment. “I’d like you both to meet my fiancée, Candy Cordell. Candy, this is Ben Kincaid and Marianne Gunnerson.”
It was her, all right. As little attention as Ben had managed to pay to her face on that fateful night, he nonetheless recognized the multitalented dancer-waitress from the Bare Fax. Her red hair was gathered up and separated into two pigtails, which seemed to remove at least five years from her age. The low lighting on the patio also seemed kinder to her than the harsh, no-secrets lighting of the Bare Fax. She was wearing blue jeans and a white blouse with a plunging neckline and small holes throughout. It was a blouse that would make her very popular with the men at the party and very unpopular with the women.
Ben yanked Alvin by the arm and pulled him aside. “What are you doing?” he asked in a harsh whisper. “This is professional suicide.”
Alvin looked at him gravely. “If she’s going to be my wife, Ben, and she is, they’re going to have to meet her sometime. Besides, they don’t have to know about … you know, the past.” the subject of their conversation interrupted them before Ben had a chance to rebut. “Oh, I remember you,” Candy squealed, as if finding a long-lost friend. “You were there in—”
“Yes, that was me all right,” Ben said, cutting her off. “What madcap days they were.”
“Excuse me. Can I cut in?”
Ben jumped, startled. It was Derek again, with Sanguine hanging on his shoulder. They both looked hours drunker than they had when he left them a few minutes before.
Derek spotted Candy and leered at her in a not-very-subtle manner. Oh well, Ben thought, I suppose she’s accustomed to it.
“Introduce us to the young lady, Mr. Hager,” Derek said, grinning obscenely.
“With pleasure, sir,” Alvin said, rising to the occasion. Introductions were had all around. Alvin placed heavy emphasis on the words my fiancée.
Derek edged closer to Candy. “I hope you won’t think me sexist if I say, in all candor, that you are a beautiful woman.”
“Not at all. Call ’em like you see ’em, that’s what I always tell my customers.” She laughed boisterously.
Derek’s eyebrows arched. “What do you do, if you don’t mind my asking?”
Ben covered his eyes and held his breath.
“Well, I’m going to college now,” she said.
Ben exhaled quietly.
“At least I am at the start of the fall semester. Alvin’s treat.” She slid her arm around his waist and squeezed. “He’s my little sugar daddy.”
“Is that right?” Derek said loudly. He seemed to find this very amusing.
Suddenly, music began to swell from the chain of speakers built into the outside walls. A Fifties rock ’n’ roll tune was starting. “Sounds like it’s time to boogie,” Derek said eagerly. “Anybody here dance?”
“I dance all the time,” Candy said.
“No!” Ben and Alvin shouted simultaneously.