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"You’re not sharing me," I say, which is useless

"You sleep with her, Victor"

"Baby, if I didn’t sood!"

"-we’d all be in a whole helluva lotta trouble"

"End it!" Alison wails "Just end it!"

"And you’re gonna dump Damien?"

"Damien Nutchs Ross and I are-"

"Baby, don’t use the full monicker It’s a bummer"

"Victor, I keep explaining so to you and you act like you haven’t heard ain "You u-used to be a man?"

"Without me, and by extension without Damien, you would have no club No o over this?" Pause, exhale "Nor would you have a chance to open that other club you’re planning to-"

"Whoa!"

"-open behind all our backs"

We’re both silent I can envision a slow, triu Alison’s lips upward

"I don’t knohy you think these things, Alison"

"Shut up I will only continue this conversation at Indochine" A pause that I let happen Because of it, Alison calls out, "Ted-could you ring up Spy Bar foriant pile of black and white confetti and up the stairs into Indochine, where Ted thea giant top hat, and I ask hi eye contact with the caer as it points to a booth in the rear of the e restaurant, noise froround Alison spots ets up from a table where she’s on her Nokia 232 cell phone to Nan Ke cake with Peter Gabriel, David LaChapelle, Janeane Garofalo and David Koresh, all of the lacrosse and the new monkey virus, a copy of this month’s Mademoiselle next to each plate