"Chas," she said, "is something wrong?"
"I need you," I said.
I hadn't been to a party in ages, and I got real excited about going to Laura Gunther's shindig. Of course I had nothing decent to wear so I went down to Hashbeam's Bo-teek.
"Laura," I said, "I bet the only reason you're having this bash is so that all your customers come in for new outfits."
You got it," she said, grinning. "Believe me, you're not the first.
Listen, Mabel, I hope your husband will be there."
"Well, he's working on Saturday but he promised to show up for an hour or two."
"Good enough," she said. "I'm eager to meet him. Now let's pick out something for you that'll knock everyone dead."
She had some great sequined sheaths that were to die for, but I had to admit I was a bit too tubby to get into them. We finally settled for an embroidered chemise-type number, tight across the fanny and with a neckline low enough to show cleavage. , "No bra," Laura warned. "Let it all hang out."
"Suits me," I said, and I imagined what Herman Todd's reaction would be if he saw me in that dress. Maybe it could be arranged.
I left Hashbeam's in time for my appointment with Dr. Cherry Noble. I told her about the party on Saturday, and how happy I was to get out of the house for a change.
"Is your husband going?" she asked.
"At first he didn't want to. He's working on Saturday, and that stupid job of his comes first. But finally he agreed to stop by for a drink."
"Mmm," she said. "No argument?"
"Not really. Sometimes I think he's trying. We even made love the other night. Whoopee. On a scale of one to ten, about a five. I wish there was a pill I could slip into his macaroni and cheese that would give him a little more oomph."
Dr. Noble smiled. "I'm afraid there's no pill like that, Mabel. " The rest of the session was all about my self-esteem and why I needed to have men wanting me-the only way I could feel important. I figured all women felt that way, but the doc said not so, that self-worth had to come from within, how I felt about myself, and not from the approval of others.
I thought that was a squirrelly idea but I didn't tell her that. And I didn't tell her about the new cocktail dress I had just bought that made my knockers look like a baby's ass.
By the time Saturday rolled around I was in a state. But it was a nice feeling, a real high I hadn't felt for a long time. I had my hair done that morning and even splurged on a manicure. I rushed home a little before noon to shower and dress before driving to the party, fashionably late.
I certainly didn't want to be the first one there.
Chet was in his bedroom with Tania Todd. A lot of his junk was spread out on the floor, and the kids were sorting the stuff into piles.
"What's going on?" I asked.
They looked up at me. "It's for school, Mrs. Barrow," Tania said.
"When we go back, we'll have to give talks on how we spent our summer vacations. I'm helping Chet pick out some things for his showand-tell."
"That's nice," I said. "Chet, I'm going out for a while around two o'clock, but I'll be back in time to get supper on the table. Maybe we'll have hot dogs and beans. If you kids get hungry this afternoon, there are jelly doughnuts in the fridge.
Have a good time."
I spent the next two hours getting dolled up. It made me feel ten years younger, and the finished Product looked sharp, if I say so myself. I had that glow I used to get when I was going out on a date before I was married. Those were the days! And I was such a dope I thought they'd last forever.
I had to be careful sliding onto the driver's seat of the Roadmaster because that embroidered chemise was snugger than I thought, and the last thing in the world I wanted right then was a split seam. I checked my makeup in the rearview mirror and wiped a fleck of lipstick off a front tooth.
There were at least a dozen people already there when I sashayed into Laura's condo. There was a bar set up with a hired bartender, a yummy boy with a, great tan. There was also a table with plates and bowls of nibbles like macadamia nuts and miniature pretzels. No one was sitting down, everyone was standing and mingling, carrying their drinks and talking up a storm. I knew it was going to be a good party.
Laura grabbed me the moment I walked in and gave me a quick once-over.
"Mabel," she said, "you look fantastic. That dress is you.
Where's your husband?"
"He'll be along," I said. "Can I have a drink?"
"I'll get it for you, lion, " she said. "Then I want you to meet some of these wonderful friends of mine."
I must have been introduced to a dozen guests in the next fifteen minutes. I didn't remember their names, of course, but they were all dressed to the nines, and none of them looked like they had to worry where their next buck was coming from. But there was nothing stuck-up about them, and I got a lot of compliments on my dress. I could see where the men were staring.
Laura left to greet some new arrivals, and I got me a second rum and Coke from the dreamy kid behind the bar. One of the couples I hadn't met came up and we all introduced ourselves.
His name was William Brevoort ("Just call me Willie!") and she was Jessica Fiddler, a real model type, tall and blond, but kind of hard-looking if you know what I mean. They seemed to be close friends, but I didn't get the feeling they were making it together.
They were really good company, just as friendly as they could be.
Jessica was wearing one of those sequined sheaths from Hashbeam's that I loved but couldn't get into, and Willie had on a plaid silk sport coat with lime green slacks. We talked clothes just to break the ice, you know-and then Brevoort asked, "What does your husband do, Mabel?"
"He's a research chemist," I said. "He invents new drugs and things like that."
"No kidding?" he said. "What a coincidence. I'm in the pharmaceutical line myself. I'd like to talk to him. Is he here?"
"Should be along soon," I said. "I'll make sure you meet.
Jessica, who does your hair? It's beautiful."
"Thank you," she said, "but the fall isn't mine." She added, "Willie lent it to me," and we all laughed.
I saw Greg come through the door, and I went over and grabbed his arm.
He was wearing his old threepiece navy blue suit like he had just been confirmed. in that flashy crowd my poor hubby looked like a sorry-assed refugee from Lower Slobbovia.
I got him a drink and brought him over to meet Jessica and Willie. We chatted of this and that for a while, and then Jessica drew me away to the food table where Laura had just put out a big platter of boiled shrimp with a fancy plastic toothpick stuck in each one. When I looked back, Willie was talking a mile a minute to Greg, and I guessed they were talking business, which men like to do at parties.
After a while Greg came over to where I was standing with Jessica and took one shrimp.
"Enjoying the party, Mr. Barrow?" Jessica asked.
"Very nice," he said. "I wish I could stay, but I'm afraid I've got to get back to work."
"You just got here," I protested. "Stay a little while longer.
Jessica, you hang onto him while I get him another drink."
A lot more people had arrived, and the bar was mobbed. It must have been five minutes before I could get back to Greg. He was still talking to Jessica and had a funny look on his face. I thought maybe she had told him a dirty joke. My husband doesn't like dirty jokes.
Jessica smiled and moved away when I came back. "Hope we meet again, Greg," she said. "Don't work too hard."
I handed him his drink. "Isn't she pretty?" I said.
"Yes," he said. "Very. Listen, Mabel, I'm going to finish this and then I've really got to go. You stay as long as you like. Don't worry about making dinner. Maybe we'll go out tonight. You're all dressed up, so we'll go someplace nice."