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Inside the tote bag Jaht have slipped the vial into: a Gucci snakeskin wallet, a miniature Mont Blanc fountain pen, an Asprey address book, Calvin Klein sunglasses, a Nokia 9000 cell phone, a Nars lip gloss, a Calvin Klein atoital recorder that I stare at questioningly until I’ hollowly in the empty space at Le Caprice

"I um, don’t know"

"Don’t be shocked I’shocks ood, Victor"

A voice abovea Gucci tux, soht or ht not be Bentley Harrolds, the model, totally drunk, his tu precariously fro wrist:

"Oh, what a circus," he groans "Oh, what a show"

I immediately turn off the recorder and drop it back into Jarin that causes Bentley’s eyes to widen and then he’s leering athis face cri over the banister, he slurs, "You certainly don’t make a mundane first impression"

"And you’re Bentley Harrolds," I say and then, gesturing toward the glass, "Hey bud, what are you drinking?"

"Er" Bentley looks at his hand and then back atchilled Bacardi," and then, still staring down at eous"

"So I’ve been told," I say, and then, "How gorgeous?"

Bentley’soverback and forth, flushed

"You look like Brad Pitt," Bentley says "After he’s just wrestled a large furry bear" Pause "And that gets ive h Ja to sit, but I’ it virtually ihs, tries to focus

"Um, I suppose you don’t want to hear aboutinstead, huh?"

A long pause while Bentley considers this "I ulps-"faint"

"You wouldn’t be the first"