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"That sounds a little too co? That Space Cadets doesn’t rock your world?" I hear Bill tapping his headset "Hello? Who aby, is it?"

"What else could I do?" I’ ht

"Oh, you could play soets his ass beaten in a parking lot in an indiedirected by a recently rehabbed Italian known only as `Vivvy,’ and your per die vouchers and there would not be a wrap party" Bill pauses to let this sink in "It’s your decision It’s Victor Johnson’s decision"

"I’ll let you know," I say "I have a party to go to I’ve gotta split"

"Listen, stop playing hard to get"

"I’-an inspired touch, by the way-is going to fade in approximately a week" Bill pauses "You have to strike now"

I laugh good-naturedly "Bill, I’ll call you later"

He laughs too "No, stay on the line with"My visage is wanted elsewhere"

2

A party for the blind that Bacardi ru soers and Cowan de the VIPs: Bono, Kai Ruttenstein, Kevin Bacon, Demi Moore, Fiona Apple, Courtney Love, Claire Danes, Ed Burns, Jennifer Aniston and Tate Donovan, Shaquille O’Neal and a surprisingly swishy Tiger Woods So a Coke with someone named Ben Affleck while Jamiroquai plays over the sound system in the cavernous club we’re all lost in and Gabe Doppelt just has to introduce io Ar way back and he’s wearing a navy-blue crew-neck T-shirt, a navy casher-Le Coultre Reverso atch And there are so ies about Chloe, almost as if it was her fault that she died on estion of fatal quantities of , fire-eaters and a lot of blabbing about generational ibberish and so chicly presented Typical conversations revolve around serial killers and rehab stints and the a around as opposed to just "dry" puy going around as opposed to just "dry" and the spectacularly self-destructive behavior of an idiotic model I’m so uncomfortable I resort to sound bites such as: "I’ citizen" The phrase "back to school"-employed every time a reporter’sand I have to excusedirections to the nearest rest roos in the stall next tonotes on how to live in a plotless universe and I’ a breather Finally they leave and it becomes quiet, ales without holding a hand against ain, Alison, my publicist, certain cast members from a TV show I’ve never seen-but then I have to stop because I realize that the men’s room isn’t e

Clicking the cell phone off, I ck my head because it’s a tune that seems familiar

I peer carefully over the stall door but can’t see anyone

The whistling echoes, and then a voice that’s deep and s, haltingly, "on the sunny side of the street"

I yank open the stall door,onto the tiles

I walk over to the row of sinks beneath a wall-length mirror so I can survey the entire bathroom

There’s no one in here

The bathroom is empty

I washback into the party

1

Back at the new aparthtrooreen and the curtains draped over the s looking out onto 72nd Street are hand-painted silk taffeta There are antique coffee tables There are beveled French uchi lamps and scruffed-up armchairs situated in pleasant positions Paisley pillows line a couch There is a ceiling fan There are paintings by Donald Baechler I actually have a library