She nodded. “He introduced me, asked the guy to join us, and said he hoped we could all be good friends.”

Cadin’s mouth was hanging open by then. “What did you do?

She shrugged again. “I put up a good front. What could I do? We were sitting in the middle of a busy restaurant and I couldn’t make a scene. You know how it is: women aren’t supposed to make scenes in public or show aggression. We’re supposed to be nice and smile all the time.”

“I would have kicked them both in the ass,” Evan said. He reached for Michele’s hand. “I know that’s not something I would have done a year ago, but the older I get, the more tired I get of people like this guy making assumptions. I’ve learned a few things about some men in the past few months, let me tell you. They seem to drift through life making their own rules, expecting everyone around them to just go along with them. And I’m getting tired of it. I say fuck them all and you’re better off without this guy. If more gay men and straight women took on this attitude we’d all be a lot better off for it. We need to start making our own rules.”

When Michele got up to use the powder room, Cadin went to the bar and poured himself a martini. He took a huge sip and said, “God, I don’t know how I’m going to get through this night in one piece.”

Evan walked over and asked, “What’s wrong with you?” “I wasn’t going to say anything, but the guy I’ve been seeing just told me he thinks we should start seeing other people.” Cadin finished the drink in one swallow. “And we all know what that means. He’s probably already seeing other people.”

“The guy with the child-bearing hips?”

“Yup.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry,” Evan said. “I thought everything was going so well.” They’d all been so caught up in their own lives in the past few months Evan realized they hadn’t been paying attention to each other.

“He didn’t even have the decency to ask me out to lunch,” Cadin said. “He mentioned this to me on the phone.”

“Oh, not the phone.”

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As Cadin nodded, Michele walked into the living room, took one look at their expressions, and asked, “What’s wrong?”

Evan wanted a drink now more than ever. “The guy Cadin has been seeing told him he wants to see other people.”

Michele reached for his hand and said, “I’m so sorry. I know how serious you were about this one.”

Evan noticed that although Cadin wasn’t thrilled about his situation, he sounded less upset than Michele. “I’m just sorry I told so many people about it. I introduced him to my mother, and to the rest of the family in Brooklyn. At first, I was a little worried because he’s a little effeminate and my family is still not used to me being gay. But everything seemed to work out and I thought things were going so well between us.”

“You poor thing,” Michele said. “I think we both need another drink.”

Evan said, “You two sit down. I’ll get you both another martini. You’re out of vodka at the bar.” He knew Michele’s apartment as well as he knew his own. He knew she kept several bottles of vodka in the freezer at all times.

Michele’s apartment was large enough to have a private eat-in kitchen off the dining room, with a swinging door so no one would have to look at the kitchen during her candlelight dinner parties. She tended to be more formal than most of Evan’s other friends, who liked cooking in front of people with their open-concept kitchens. Michele didn’t cook; she hired a chef. She believed kitchens belonged at the back of the house, and only the hired help needed to know what was going on inside them, not the guests. Although Evan had always tended to be more informal, he had to admit there was always something special about being invited to Michele’s house for a dinner party. They were civilized events to be remembered.

Of course he’d never forget this particular party. When he went into the kitchen, he went directly to the freezer, pulled out an unopened bottle of the best vodka money can buy, and opened it so fast he almost twisted his wrist. He took one glance over his right shoulder and another to the left, and then he lifted the bottle, tilted his head back, and took a few swallows. The ice-cold booze went down so well, and he felt such a surge of calm rush through his body, he took a few more quick swallows and put the cap back on the bottle. He told himself that’s all he would drink for the rest of the night. He promised himself he’d only needed that quick taste to calm his nerves. All the excuses he’d made to himself in the past came rushing back and he didn’t think he’d done anything wrong. After all, they were all falling apart right before his eyes. If a person couldn’t take a small drink at a time like this, life simply wasn’t worth living.

He returned the open bottle of vodka to the freezer and pulled out another one that hadn’t been opened yet, and then he wiped his lips and went back into the living room to join his friends. He found them both on the sofa. Cadin was hugging Michele, and Evan felt a sting of guilt because he’d just taken a drink and they had no idea. He’d been an alcoholic long enough to hide what he’d just done; he could look anyone in the eye and swear he hadn’t been drinking. Like all alcohols, manipulation and lying became a way of life.

While they sat on the sofa eating caviar and chopped egg, Evan continued to make them martinis. By the time he’d finished mixing the third pitcher, he poured himself a glass and sat down in an armchair on the other side of the sofa without thinking about it.

Cadin’s voice started to slur a little. He wasn’t drunk, but he wasn’t completely sober. “I swear to God this is the last time I’m introducing anyone to my family unless I know it’s the real thing.”

Michele frowned and finished her martini. “Well, I swear to God this is the last time I get involved with a guy without asking him on the first date if he likes to suck dick.”

Cadin laughed so hard he fell backward.

Evan lifted his martini glass, finished what was left, and said, “I think you should get it in writing, Michele.”

That remark should have made Cadin laugh harder. But he didn’t. When he saw Evan sitting across from him holding an empty martini glass, he frowned and said, “I can’t believe we let you do that.”

Michele sent him a look. “I wasn’t paying attention.” She closed her eyes and shook her head in a way that suggested utter disapproval.




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