Bet Me

Chapter Five

When Catra got home from work, she flipped on the white overhead light, kicked off her shoes, and went into the white galley kitchen behind the white breakfast bar to pour a Glenlivet. Even as she poured, Elvis Costello blared out in the next apartment, reverberating "She" through the wall.

"Oh, Christ," Catra said, and put the glass on her forehead. Shanna's rocky romance must have crashed. She tossed back the drink and went to pound on her door.

When Shanna opened the door, her pretty face was tear-stained under her tangled mop of soft kinky hair. "Hi, Catra," she said and sniffed. "Come on in."

She followed her into the Technicolor version of her apartment, wincing until she'd turned Elvis down to a reasonable volume. "Tell me about it."

"It was awful," she said, going to her bright red bookcase and moving aside a madly colored tiki god doll to get the bottle of Glenlivet she kept for Catra.

"I just had one," Catra said, warding her off.

"I thought this was it." Shanna put the tiki back and changed coarse to the big old couch she'd covered with a purple Indian bedspread. "I thought it was forever."

"You always think it's forever." Catra sat down beside her and put her arm around her. "Who was it this time? I lost track."

"Megan," Shanna said, her face crumpling again.

"Right." Catra put her feet on the ancient trunk she used for a coffee table. "Megan the bitch. You know, maybe you should try dating for fun instead. Or take a break, that's what I—"

"Megan was fun," Shanna said.

"Megan was a humorless pain in the ass," Catra said. "Why you always fall for women who make you feel guilty is beyond me. That kind makes me run."

Shanna looked at her with watery contempt. "All kinds make you run."

"This is not about me," Catra said as Elvis finished with a last big, "She!" and began again; Shanna had put him on replay. "You have to get a new breakup song."

"I love this song," Shanna said.

"I used to like it," Catra said. "But that was many months ago before you bashed me over the head with it every time your latest disaster left. You're ruining Elvis Costello."

"Nobody can ruin Elvis. Elvis is a god," Shanna said.

"Isn't Megan the one who hated Elvis?" Catra said.

"No, that was Anne," Shanna said. "Although Megan wasn't a fan, either."

"Well, there it is," Catra said. "Play Elvis on the first date, and if she doesn't like him, get rid of her before you get attached."

"Is that what you do?" Shanna let her head fall back on her arm. "Is that how you go through all those women unscathed?"

"This is not about me," Catra said. "This is about you. Stop dating people you think you should like and spend time with somebody who's fun to be with."

"There are people like that?" Shanna said.

"They all are in the beginning," Catra said, and then remembered Adora. "Well, except for the woman I had dinner with last night. She was pretty much a pain in the butt from the start."

"Of course you picked up a woman last night." Shanna rolled her head to look at her. "They could drop you in the middle of a guy's locker room and you'd come out with a woman. How do you do it?"

Catra grinned at her. "My natural charm." She could almost see the actuary rolling her eyes as she said it. Shanna rolled her head away.

"And the sad thing is, that's true. I have no natural charm."

"Yes, you do," Catra said. "You just don't use it." Shanna looked back at her. "I… do?"

"When you're not worried about impressing some snobby twit, you're great," Catra said. "You're smart and funny and a good time."

"I am?"

"I hang out with you, don't I?"

"Well, yeah, but you're just being nice."

"I'm not nice," Catra said. "I'm selfish as all hell. And since you've made it clear you'll never sleep with me, I must be spending time with you because you're fun, right? Not counting these wet Elvis nights."

"Right," Shanna said, brightening some.

"Well, my standards of fun are very high," Catra said. "So you must be great. You just date the biggest bitches I've ever met in my life."

"Oh, and the women you date are all sweethearts." Shanna got up and moved away from her.

"This is not about me," Catra said. "The reason you keep crashing and burning is that you have no confidence and you keep picking women who like that about you."

"I know." Shanna sat down on the red barstool next to her breakfast bar and shoved back the yellow curtain she'd draped in the opening to reach for her Betty Boop cookie jar.

"So you should pick somebody who makes you feel good." Shanna opened the cookie jar and took out an Oreo. "I know." "How many times have we had this talk?"

"A thousand." Shanna bit savagely into her cookie.

"And every time, you abuse Elvis. That was a good song and you ran it into the ground. Sooner or later, you're going to pay for that."

"I know," Shanna said around her Oreo.

"Pick something that has some fight to it," Catra said. "There must be a pissed-off breakup song."

"I've always liked 'I Will Survive,'" Shanna said, cheering up a little.

"Oh, Christ." Catra stood up. Behind her, Elvis began to sing "She" again. "Set him free, will you?" Shanna crossed to the bookcase and turned Elvis off. "They're not mean when I meet them, you know." "Remember your first date with Megan?" Catra said. "You introduced us in the hall?" Shanna nodded.

"She apologized for your clothes. I would have bitch-slapped her then but she looked like she could take me."

"She had very high standards."

"She was a bitter, controlling snob," Catra said. "You should have cut your losses after the first date." "Is that what you did last night?" Shanna said.

"Hell, yes," Catra said.

"Well, I can't do that," Shanna said, going back to her cookie jar. "I'm not like you. I have to give it a fair shot."

Catra sighed. "All right. Why did she leave?"

Shanna's face crumpled again. "She said I was too much of a doormat."

"Well, she wiped her feet on you often enough to know," Catra said. Shanna burst into tears, and she went to her and put her arms around her. "Get mad at her, Shan. She was not a nice person."

"But I loved her!" Shanna wailed into her chest, spitting Oreo crumbs on it.

"No, you didn't," Catra said, holding her tighter. "You wanted to love her. It's not the same thing. You only knew her a couple of weeks."

"It can happen like that." Shanna looked up into her face. "You can just know."

"No," Catra said. "You do not look at somebody, hear Elvis Costello singing 'She' on the soundtrack in your head, and fall in love. It takes time."

"Like you'd know." Shanna pulled away and picked up her cookie jar. "Have you ever stayed with anybody long enough to love her?"

"Hey," Catra said, insulted.

"That's no answer," Shanna said, retreating to her couch with her cookies. "Is that why you keep walking away so fast? Because at least I try."

"This is not about me," Catra said.

"I know, I know," Shanna said, fishing out another Oreo. "God, I'm a mess. Want a cookie?"

"No," Catra said. "Get your act together and try again tomorrow. If you swing by the office, I'll take you to lunch before you go to work."

"That would be nice," Shanna said. "You're a good person, Catra. Sometimes I wish you were my girlfriend"

"Thank you?" Catra said doubtfully.

"—and then I remember you have that commitment phobia. I have enough problems."

"This is true." Catra put her hand on the doorknob. "Can I go home now?" "Sure," Shanna said. "Take me someplace expensive tomorrow."

"I'll take you to Emilio's," Catra said. "He needs the business and you like the pesto."

While Catra was trying to prop up Shanna, Adora stopped by Emilio's to pick up salad and bread.

"Ah, the lovely Adora!" he said when she tracked him down in his kitchen.

"Emilio, my darling," Adora said. "I need salad and bread for three right now and a kickass wedding cake for two hundred three weeks from Sunday."

"Oh." Emilio leaned against the counter. "My grandmother makes wedding cakes. They taste like ..." He shut his eyes. "... heaven. Light as a feather." He opened his eyes. "But they're good, old-fashioned cakes, they don't have marzipan birds or fondant icing."

"Could she make a cake and decorate it with fresh flowers?" Adora said. "I can get some real pearls. Maybe if the cake is covered with real things instead of sugar imitations, people will be impressed."

"I don't know," Emilio said. "But what matters is how it tastes, and it will taste—"

"Emilio, that's sweet," Adora said, imagining Nanette's reaction to that one. "Unfortunately, in this case, what matters is how it looks."

"How about this," Emilio said. "I'll see if she'll do the cake. If she says yes, she'll ice it plain, and you can put the flowers and the pearls on it."

"Me," Adora said doubtfully. "Well, not me, but Bonnie can do it, she has fabulous taste. It's a deal. Call your grandma."

Emilio picked up the phone. "So you taking Catra to this wedding?"

"I'm never seeing Catra again," Adora said.

"God, you guys are dumb," Emilio said as he punched the numbers into the phone. In a moment, his face brightened. "Nonna?" he said and began to talk in Italian. The only word Adora recognized was "Catra" which was worrying, but when Emilio hung up, he was smiling.

"It's all set," he said. "I told her you were Catra's girlfriend. She loves Catra."

"All women do." Adora kissed him on the cheek. "You are my hero."

"That's the food," Emilio said, and packed up bread and salad for three for her. Then she went home and walked up thirty-two steps to Bonnie's apartment on the first floor.

"So," Lonnie said when she answered Bonnie's door. "You want to explain last night?"

"Can I come in first?" Adora said, and slid past Lonnie into Bonnie's bright, warm apartment.

Bonnie had set her mission table with her Royal Doulton Tennyson china and a cut glass vase of grocery roses. It looked so pretty that Adora thought, okay, my apartment will never look this good, but I could set a better table. I could even cook. I could get my grandmother's kitchen things out of the basement. It would be nice to do kitchen stuff like her grandmother had. Maybe bake cookies.

That she couldn't eat.

Adora sighed and put the Styrofoam boxes down on Bonnie's table. "What's that?" Bonnie said, poking at the Styrofoam.

"The best salad you'll ever eat, and even better bread," Adora said, and Bonnie went to get serving bowls. "Bread?" Lonnie said to Adora. "You're going to eat bread?"

"No," Adora said. "I ate bread last night and then paid for it today. You're going to eat bread, and I'm going to live vicariously."

Lonnie made a face as she pulled out one of Bonnie's tall dining room chairs. "Like dessert. Stats, you—" "What did you bring?" Adora said, dreading the answer.

"Raspberry Swirl Dove Bars," Lonnie said, as she sat down.

"Rot in hell," Adora said, pulling out her own chair. "Why can't you ever bring fruit?"

"Because fruit is not dessert," Lonnie said. "Now explain to us why you left the bar with Catra Horde last night."

Adora shoved the bread box Lonnie's way. "David bet her ten bucks she couldn't get me into bed in a month." She watched them freeze in place, Bonnie with a platter of chicken and vegetables in her hands, Lonnie opening the bread.

"You are kidding me" Lonnie said, her face dangerous with anger.

"I let her pick me up because I had a plan to get a date to the wedding, and then I realized I couldn't put up with that smarmy charm for three weeks, so I ate an excellent dinner and left."

Bonnie's face crumpled. "Oh, honey, that's awful."

"No," Adora said. "Let's forget Catra Horde and eat. I want to talk about Glimmer. She's not happy."

"Wet and Worse." Lonnie gave Adora a look that said they'd be talking about Catra again soon. "They'd bring anybody down."

Adora closed her eyes. "Do not call them that. I almost called Susie “Wet” this afternoon at the fitting. She looked like she was about to sob through the whole thing."

"Well, that's understandable," Bonnie said, sympathy in her voice. She put the platter in the middle of the table and sat down, too.

Lonnie dumped the bread into a bowl. "Maybe Glim shouldn't have asked Wet to be a bridesmaid. That's almost cruel."

"It would be worse not to be asked," Bonnie said. "Is that why she's upset, Adora?"

"I think it's Greg," Adora said, starting on her salad, "but she won't admit it. He's the one who forgot to order the wedding cake."

"Whoa," Lonnie said. "This is a man who's resisting his own wedding. And let's face it, your mother and Glimmer railroaded him into it."

"He proposed on his own," Bonnie said.

"I think he wanted a longer engagement," Adora said. "But he said yes when they set the date. He's not incapable of speech. He could have said 'No.'"

"To Nanette and Glimmer?" Lonnie said as she started on her salad. "Fat chance. Worse will do a kind deed before Greg will grow a spine. Now you talk about Catra Horde and this damn bet. We want to know everything."

Half an hour later, the salad was gone, the leftover chicken was in the refrigerator, and Bonnie was unwrapping a Dove Bar as Adora finished her recap of the evening.

"At least she walked you home," Bonnie said. "That was nice." She sounded doubtful.

"Yes. And then she hit me in the head, said, 'Have a nice life,' and left me," Adora said. "I didn't like her, you guys don't like her, and she didn't like me. I think that's a perfect score."

"I think that whole good-bye thing is a trick," Lonnie said around a mouthful of Dove Bar. "I think she's putting you off guard. If you're not careful, she'll charm you into bed and break your heart."

Adora frowned at her in exasperation. "How naive do I look? I know about the bet. Anyway, I have a new plan."

"Oh, good," Lonnie said. "Because you don't have enough plans."

Adora ignored her. "I was listening to Elvis singing 'Love Me Tender' last night, and it occurred to me that if she'd been reincarnated, she'd be about twenty-seven now, and I'm open to younger people. Statistically, the most successful marriages are those in which the woman is eight years older than the man. So I've decided to wait for Elvis to find me."

"You'd only be six years older," Bonnie said.

"Yes, but it would be Elvis, so I'd try harder," Adora said. "Why Elvis?" Lonnie said.

"Because he always tells the truth when he sings. Elvis is the only one in my life I can trust."

"So let me get this straight," Lisa said, pointing with her half-eaten Dove Bar. "Bonnie is waiting for a fairy tale character to make her life complete, and you're holding out for the reincarnation of a “person”who ate fried banana sandwiches."

"Yep," Adora said, and Lonnie shook her head.

"I might have found my prince," Bonnie said. "Roger's good."

"Roger?" Adora asked, trying not to watch Lonnie consume her Dove Bar.

"We picked up the beast's friends last night," Lonnie said around her ice cream. "Bonnie got the one that walks upright."

"Roger is a sweetheart," Bonnie said. "I'm thinking of breaking my date Saturday night and going out with him instead. I'll wait and see how Friday night with him works out."

"He asked you out?" Adora said, relieved to be off the subject of Catra. "Tell all."

"He asked her out for every night for the rest of her life," Lonnie said. "He's blind for her."

"That's nice." Adora picked a last salad leaf out of her bowl to compensate for her lack of sugar. "So he has potential, Bon?"

"Maybe." Bonnie came as close to frowning as she ever did. "I think if I keep seeing him for a couple of weeks and it's working, I'll take him home to Mama and let her scope him out."

Adora raised her eyebrows. "You think he'll cross three states to meet your mother after two weeks?"

"He would cross the Andes to get her a toothpick," Lonnie said. "It's pathetic."

"No, it's not." Bonnie frowned over her ice cream stick. "It's sweet. And he thinks Catra is great, which is confusing."

"So Bonnie met a good one," Adora said to Lonnie, ignoring the Catra reference. "Who'd you get?"

"The village idiot," Lonnie said. "He also thinks Catra is the best. They're like the Three Stooges. Only not funny."

"The Three Stooges aren't funny," Bonnie said.

"Too true," Adora said. "Are you seeing the idiot again?"

"Yes." Lonnie licked the last of her ice cream off the stick. "I think your beast is coming back, and my idiot babbles nicely when I ask him questions. Plus, there is a bartender who lives next door to the beast with whom I must bond."

"Well, don't ask questions for me," Adora said. "Catra Horde is not part of my future."

"She will be tomorrow night," Bonnie said. "She'll be at The Long Shot with Roger and Tony." Adora shook her head. "Then I'll stay home."

"No," Bonnie said, stricken. "We don't have to go there. We'll go somewhere else so you can come, too."

"And make you miss Roger?" Adora reconsidered. "No. Not even I am selfish enough to cross True Love. I'll go. I want to see this Roger up close anyway."

"Are you sure Catra made that bet?" Bonnie said.

"I was standing right there," Adora said. "I heard it. With my own ears. She said, 'Piece of cake.'" That rankled more than anything.

"Because Roger thinks the world of her," Bonnie said. "He told me all about it, about the three of them. It's kind of sad. They met in summer school when they were in the third grade. Roger said he was a slow thinker, Tony didn't care about school, and Catra was dyslexic, so everybody thought they were dumb."

"Catra's dyslexic?" Adora said, surprised.

"Tony is dumb," Lonnie said at the same time.

"No," Bonnie said, with the heavy patience that meant "back off."

"Tony is not dumb. And Roger isn't dumb, either, he's just very methodical, you can't hurry him. He's like my uncle Julian."

"Oh, God," Lonnie said to the ceiling. "He's like family. I will bet you anything that Roger is her If this week."

"I don't bet," Adora said. "Bonnie? What's your If?"

Bonnie stuck her chin out. "If Roger turns out to be as sweet as I think he is, I'm going to marry him." "Oh, good grief," Lonnie said.

"Leave her alone," Adora said to Lonnie. "She gets whatever If she wants. What's yours?" Lonnie straightened. "If my job doesn't get any more interesting, I'm quitting next week." "Get the calendar," Adora said to Bonnie.

"I don't have to," Bonnie said. "It was August when she quit the last time because she said nobody should work in a heat wave."

"Ten months," Adora said. "That's not good. Her attention span is getting shorter."

"It's an If," Lonnie said to Adora. "I'm keeping an eye on my options. I think I might want to waitress again if I can find someplace fun. What's your If?"

Adora thought of Catra Horde, and her head began to throb. "If I can find the reincarnation of Elvis, I'll date again. Until then, I'm taking a break from socialization. It's just too painful."

"I am the only sane woman in this room," Lonnie said.

"Sanity is overrated," Adora said, and went home to get an aspirin.

The next night, Catra was back at The Long Shot, as far away from the landing as possible to give herself a wide escape path. Roger was ten feet away, looking at Bonnie as if she were the center of the universe. Bonnie was looking at Roger as if he were a very nice man she didn't know very well. Catra shook her head. Watching Roger date was like watching a toddler in traffic.

Tony sat down beside Catra and slid his Scotch over. "I think you should go for it," he said, nodding toward the bar.

"What?" Catra looked past Bonnie, to see a tall, slender redhead. Tony's Lonnie. Then she shifted and Catra saw Adora standing behind her, draped in a loose red sweater. It had some kind of hood hanging down the back, and Roger tugged on it and said something that made her smile. "Great." Now she'd have to put up with Adora slanging at her for another evening.

"It's not like you to stare and not do anything about it," Tony said. "You are losing it."

"I was watching Roger and Bonnie," Catra said.

"Oh." Tony looked over at Roger and shrugged. "Yep, he's a goner. Well, we all gotta die sometime."

"Yeah, you're the guy I want watching my back," Catra said.

"Well, what are you gonna do?" Tony looked past her and straightened. "What the hell? Where do they think they're going?"

Catra turned back to see the four of them commandeer a poker table on the other side of the bar. "Not here," she said, cheering up. Evidently Adora had had as bad a time as she'd had. Which was her own fault because she was impossible to please. God knew she'd tried. Well, except for clipping her there at the end.

She sat down beside Lonnie, and watched her as she leaned back and stretched out her black-clad legs. Her legs were pretty good, strong full calves, sturdy, like Adora in general.

"She'll be over here in five minutes," Tony said.

"Ten bucks says she won't," Catra said, turning back to her Glenlivet. "You're on," Tony said. "She wants me."

"You?" Catra said, startled. "Oh, you mean Lonnie." She looked back at the redhead who was laughing with Adora and giving no evidence whatsoever that she knew Tony existed. "Nope, she won't, either."

"Oh, you were talking about the chub?" Tony said.

"Don't call her that," Catra said. "Her name is Adora. She's a good woman, apart from her rage." She watched her as she leaned sideways in her chair to say something to Bonnie. "She's not chubby. She's just got a really round body. Everywhere."

"Nice rack," Tony said, trying to be fair. "So you struck out, huh?"

"No," Catra said, turning her back on them again. "I asked her to dinner and she went. Then I walked her home and said good-bye. I did not strike out."

"Finally, a woman you can't get," Tony said, satisfaction in his voice. "That's kind of depressing because it's like an era is passing—"

"I didn't try," Catra said.

"—but it's good to know you put on your pants one leg at a time like the rest of us." "I've never understood that," Catra said. "How else would you put on your pants?"

Tony leaned over. "Ten bucks says you can't get Adora to go out with you tomorrow night." "I don't want to go out with her tomorrow night," Catra said.

"Take her to the movies," Tony said. "You won't have to talk to her." "Tony. .."

"Ten bucks, hotshot. I don't think you can do it."

Catra looked over her shoulder at Adora. All the laughing aside, she didn't look any more relaxed than she'd been Wednesday night. And she was ignoring her. Catra shook her head at Tony. "She won't go. No bet."

"This is hard to believe," Tony said. "You chickening out."

"Tony, she hates me right now. She just broke up with somebody."

"Well, there you go. She's on the rebound," Tony said. "That gives you an edge. You could get her into bed."

"I don't want her in bed," Catra said. "She'll probably ice pick the next person she sleeps with to get even with the guy who dumped her. Trust me, this is not a woman you close your eyes around."

"Wuss," Tony said. "I'll make it easy. Lunch. Ten bucks says you can't get her to lunch."

Catra looked over at Adora again. What would get her to lunch? She was sitting back in her chair now, smiling at Roger, as if she were sizing him up. Protective of her friend. She could relax about Roger. If Bonnie got him, she'd be a lucky woman.

Of course, Adora didn't know that. "You in?" Tony said.

So if she went over and said…

"Cynthie just came in," Tony said.

"Hell." Catra sat up but didn't look toward the door. "She hates this bar. Why—"

"She's stalking you," Tony said. "She must really want to get married. And she's headed this way."

"Right." Catra stood up. "Come on."

"Where?" Tony said, not rising.

"Over there so you can harass your redhead while I get a lunch date and duck Cyn. You're on."

"You just lost ten bucks, old buddy," Tony said, practically chortling. "I saw Adora's face when you came in, and she was not happy to see you." He stood up, too. "I can't believe you went for that. You hit her in the head, you dork. Why would she go anywhere with you?"

"Ten bucks first," Catra said, holding out her hand.

"You have to get the date first," Tony said. "Which ain't happening."

"No, this is for the redhead who did not come to get you in five minutes," Catra said, and Tony sighed and got out his wallet.

Adora was ignoring Catra and checking out Roger, when Lonnie pulled up the chair to her right and sat down. "So," Lonnie said, sliding over a Diet Coke and rum. "What's new with Glim?"

"I called her today," Adora said, picking up her drink. "I asked her if everything was okay with Wet—" She closed her eyes. "—with Susie, and she said, yes, Susie's dating a very nice man and she's fine with the wedding. And Worse . . . and Karen has talked to Susie and has assured Glimmer that Susie's fine with it."

"Is she delusional?" Lonnie said, as somebody pulled up a chair to Adora's left. "Who? Wet, Worse, or Glimmer?" Adora said.

"All of them," Lonnie said.

"My guess is that Wet's being brave, Worse is being a bully, and Glimmer's in denial," Adora said, turning to see who was on her left. "Oh," she said, when she saw Catra sitting there with two glasses in front of her. She was as beautiful as she'd been two nights before, and her DNA went wild again.

"Hello, little girl," she said and flipped the hood on her sweater.

Lonnie snorted and turned to talk to Bonnie on her other side.

"Oh, that's good," Adora said. "You're definitely the first person to make a Red Riding Hood crack to me tonight. I'm never wearing this sweater again."

"Hostility," Catra said. "It's deja vu all over again. How's your head?"

"The pain comes and goes," Adora said. "And then there are the voices."

"Good. Now you have someone to talk to. Who are Wet, Worse, and Glimmer, and how did they get those terrible names?"

"Nobody you want to know." Adora picked up her drink. "What are you up to?"

"Let me guess," Catra said, her voice heavy with scorn. "That's a rum and Diet Coke. The breakfast of dieters."

"Don't you have somewhere else to be?"

"No, Buffy. Fate sent me over here to teach you to drink with dignity." She took her rum away from her and slid one of the glasses over to her. "Glenlivet. Drink it slowly."

Adora frowned at her. "This is your idea of charm?"

"No," Catra said. "I don't waste charm on you. I'm trying to help you grow. Real women do not screw up good booze with diet soda."

"Peer pressure," Adora said. "It never stops."

"Try it," Catra said. "One sip. You hate it, I'll give you this slop back."

Adora shrugged. "Okay." She picked it up and took a drink and then choked as the Scotch seared her throat.

"I said, sip, Greyskull," Catra said over her gasping. "You're supposed to savor it, not guzzle it." "Thank you," Adora said when she had her breath back. "You can go now."

"No, I can't." She leaned closer, and Adora started to feel too warm in her sweater. "I have a deal for you." Adora picked up the Scotch again and sipped it. It was nice when you sipped it.

Catra leaned closer until she was almost whispering in her ear. "I want to know about Bonnie."

Her breath was warm on her neck, and Adora blinked. "Bonnie? I think Roger's got dibs on Bonnie."

"I know. That's why I want to know about her. Roger is. .." Catra looked across the table. ". .. not adept with women. I want to know about your friend."

"Well," Adora said, prepared to give Bonnie a perfect report card.

"Not here," Catra said, still too close. "I think they'll notice. I'll meet you for lunch tomorrow. You know where Cherry Hill Park is?"

"I've heard of it," Adora said. "I don't have the bank account to go up there and hang around." "There's a picnic area on the north side," Catra said. "I'll meet you at the first table tomorrow at noon."

"Why do I feel like there should be a code word?" Adora said, finally pulling away from him. "I'll say 'pretentious' and you say 'snob.'"

"You want to know about Roger or not?" Catra said.

Adora looked back at Bonnie. If you didn't know her, she looked detached, but Adora knew her. Bonnie was glowing. "Yes."

"Good," Catra said. "Let me see your shoes."

"What?" Adora said, and Catra looked under the table. She pulled her foot out, and she looked down at her open-toed high-heeled mules, laced across her instep with black leather thongs that contrasted with her pale skin and bright red toenail polish. "Lonnie calls them 'Toes in Bondage,'" she said helpfully.

"Does she?" Catra sat very still, looking at her toes for a long moment. "Well, that's made my evening. See you tomorrow at noon." She pushed back her chair and left, taking her Scotch, and her rum and Diet Coke with.

"Okay, I couldn't hear the part at the end," Lonnie said, leaning over to her. "What was she asking you?"

"I'm going to lunch tomorrow," Adora said, not sure how she felt about that. If she whispered in her ear again, she was going to have to smack her, that was all there was to it.

"Where?"

"Cherry Hill Park."

"Jeez," Lonnie said. "Softball of the Rich and Famous. What time?" "Noon."

Lonnie nodded. Then she raised her voice and called, "Tony."

Adora looked around for him and saw him at the roulette bar, handing Catra a ten-dollar bill. "I don't believe it," she said, straightening in outrage. The beast had bet on lunch and she'd fallen for it.

Tony looked up, and Lonnie crooked her finger. He walked over and said, "You know, I'm not the kind of guy you can do that to."

"You and I are having lunch at noon tomorrow in Cherry Hill Park," Lonnie said.

"Okay," Tony said. "But only because I've gotta coach a Softball game there in the morning anyway."

"Good," Lonnie said. "You can go now."

Tony shook his head at her and went back to the bar and Catra. "Well, at least he's obedient," Adora said.

"Don't get any ideas about saying yes at lunch," Lonnie said. "It's lunch" Adora said. "In broad daylight. In a public park."

"You said you weren't going to see her, and she still got you to lunch."

"I had a reason for that," Adora said, casting a bitter glance at the bar. Catra was still there, but now the brunette from Wednesday was there, too, moving closer to her in a blue halter top. That figured. Beast. "I'll be fine, believe me, I know what she is." She cast another look at the bar where Catra appeared to be sliding away from the halter top. Playing hard to get, the jerk.

"Yeah, well, I'm watching your back just the same," Lonnie said. "And if it hits the grass, Catra's going to lose a body part."

"Boy, you really don't like her, do you?" Adora said.

"I think Catra bet Tony she could get that lunch date," Lonnie said. "I think so, too," Adora said.

"See if you can do something horrible to her tomorrow," Lonnie said.

"Already planning it," Adora said.

After another excruciating Saturday morning forcing fourteen eight-year-olds to play baseball against their better judgments, Catra was not in the mood to put up with Adora, but she grabbed her cooler from the car, stopped by the charity hot dog stand for the main course, and went to meet her at the picnic table she'd told her about. She wasn't there, so she threw an old blanket across the massive teak table—Cherry Hill did not stint on the amenities—put the basket on it, and then sat on top of the table, feeling cheerful about being stood up. It was a beautiful day, the park was thick with shade trees, the kids were gone, and nobody was bitching at her.

Then Adora came into the park through the trees, following the curving crushed gravel path. She was wearing her long red sweater again, but this time she had on a red-and-black-checked skirt that floated when the breeze blew. Her hair was still wound in a knot on the top of her head, but her stride was long and loose as she came towards her, and the sun picked up glints of gold in her hair, and she smiled at her as she drew closer, and it suddenly seemed better not to have been stood up. And when she offered her hand to help her up on the table, she hesitated and then took it, and her fingers were pleasantly, solidly warm as she boosted herself up beside her on the table.

"Hi," she said and Catra grinned at her. "Hi," she said. "Thank you for coming."

"Thank you for inviting me." Adora dropped her bag on the bench below them. "Give me ten bucks."

Catra blinked. "What?"

Adora smiled at her, cheerful as the sun. "I was going to make your lunch a living hell, but it's such a beautiful day, I've decided to enjoy it. You bet Tony ten bucks you could get me to lunch."

"No, I didn't," Catra said.

Adora's smile disappeared.

"Tony bet me ten bucks I could get you to lunch."

Adora rolled her eyes. "Whatever. Give me ten bucks or I'm leaving you cold and you'll have to give Tony his ten bucks back plus ten more because you've lost."

"I think I won when you said, 'Yes,'" Catra said, suddenly a lot more interested in Adora. "Try explaining that to Tony," Adora said.

"Okay," Catra said. "How about we split it?"

Adora held out her hand and wiggled her fingers. "Ten bucks, Charm Girl."

Catra sighed and dug out her wallet, trying not to grin at her. She took the ten, picked up her bag, stuffed the bill in it and then pulled out a twenty and handed it to her.

"What's this?" Catra said.

"That's the twenty you gave me for cab fare on Wednesday," Adora said. "I forgot to give it back to you."

"So now I'm up ten bucks," Catra said.

"No, now you've broken even. It was your twenty to begin with. I had no right to it since you didn't get fresh."

Catra looked up at the sun. "The day's young."

"I don't see you making your move on a picnic table," Adora said. "In fact, I don't see you moving on me at all, so tuck that away and tell me everything you know about Roger."

"I'm glad to see you, too," Catra said rolling her eyes, and her smile widened.

"Sorry. I forgot your lust for small talk. And how have you been in the fourteen hours since we last spoke, eight of which you were sleeping?"

"Fine. And you?"

"Wonderful. How much of this before we get to Roger and Bonnie?"

"You're a very practical woman," Catra said, and then Adora pulled her legs up to tuck them under her and Catra caught sight of her shoes, ridiculous sandals made mostly of ribbons with a single bright red flower over the instep. "Except for your shoes."

"Don't make fun of my shoes." Adora wiggled red-tipped toes under the flowers. "I love these shoes. Lonnie gave them to me for Christmas." She untied the ribbons and pulled them off and put them on the table behind her, patting the flowers before she turned back to Catra.

"I can see why you love them," Catra said, distracted by her toes, and then she pulled her skirt over them and she added, "They're very Elvis."

She raised her eyebrows. ''''You are an Elvis fan?"

"Best there is," Catra said. "You, too?"

"Oh, absolutely." Adora looked perplexed and then said, "Well, I guess it does makes sense. You are the devil in disguise."

"What?" Catra said, and then it hit her. "Elvis Presley"

"Well, of course, Elvis Presley," Adora said. "What other . . .oh . The angels want to wear my red shoes. Elvis Costello." She shrugged. "He's good, too."

Catra shook her head in disbelief. "Yes, he is."

"Good thing this isn't a date," Adora said cheerfully. "Or there'd be a really awkward silence while we tried to come back from that one."

Catra grinned at her. "Have you ever had an awkward silence in your life, Greyskull?"

"Not many," Adora said. "You?"

"Nope." Catra dumped the bag of wrapped hot dogs out on the blanket. "Okay. Roger and Bonnie. Have a hot dog while we talk."

"A hot dog?" Adora said, in the same tone of voice she'd have used to say "Cocaine?" "Those aren't good for you."

"They're protein," Catra said, exasperated. "You can have them. Just lose the bun."

"Fat," Adora said.

"I thought fat was okay on no-carb diets," Catra said, remembering Cynthie chowing down on buttered shrimp.

"It is, but I'm on a no-fat Atkins," Adora said.

Catra looked at her, incredulous. "Which leaves you what to eat?"

"Not much," Adora said, looking at the hot dogs with patent longing.

"They're brats," Catra said.

"Oh, just hell," Adora said.

"It's Saturday," Catra said. "Live a little."

"That's what you said Wednesday at Emilio's. I've already sinned this week."

"Saturday is the first day of the new week. Sin again."

Adora bit her lip, and the breeze picked up again, rustling the trees and lifting the edge of skirt, floating it closer to Catra.

"I brought you Diet Coke to compensate," she said, opening the cooler. "Also, this conversation is boring."

"Right. Sorry." She took the can Catra handed her and popped it open. "Really sorry. There's nothing more boring than talking about food."

"No," Catra said. "Talking about food is great. Talking about not having food is boring." She picked up one of the wax-paper-wrapped sandwiches and handed it to her. "Eat."

Adora looked at the hot dog, sighed, and unwrapped it. "You are a beast."

"Because I'm feeding you?" Catra said. "How is that bad? We're Americans. It's the American Way."

"Hot dogs are the American Way?" Adora said, and then stopped. "Oh. I guess they are, aren't they? Right up there with baseball and apple pie."

"Baseball you can have," Catra said and bit into her hot dog.

Adora squinted at her team shirt. "Isn't that shirt sort of baseball-ish?"

"Yes," Catra said. "For my sins, I teach children to run around bases on Saturday mornings. Someday, your husband or whatever you prefer will be doing this, too, while you sit in the bleachers and cheer on little whosis. It's the price you pay for liberty."

"I'm not having kids," Adora said, and bit into her hot dog.

"You're not?" Catra said, and then was distracted by the look of bliss on her face while she chewed. The brats were good, but they weren't that good.

She swallowed and sighed. "This is wonderful. My dad used to sneak us out for brats every time there was a festival anyplace within driving distance. My mother would have killed him if she'd known. Do you know how long it's been since I tasted one of these? It's heaven."

"It looks like heaven," She said, and then she leaned over to take another bite, keeping the sandwich over the waxed paper to catch the drippings, and looked down the v-neck of Adora loose red sweater and saw a lot of lush round flesh in tight red lace. Tony would have a heart attack, she thought and then realized she was a little lightheaded herself. The breeze blew again and wafted her skirt against the hand she had braced on the table, and it tickled, soft and light.

"So," Catra said, moving her hand. "All right. Why don't you want to be part of the American Way?"

Adora chewed with her eyes closed, and Catra looked down her sweater again and had impure thoughts. Then she swallowed and said, "I have to give birth to be a good American? No. There are more than four million babies born in this country every year. The American Way is covered. If it worries you, you can have extra to make up for mine."

"Me?" Catra sat back away from distraction. "I don't want kids. I'm just surprised that you don't. You'd make a great mom."

"Why?" Adora stopped with the sandwich halfway to her mouth.

Because she looked soft all over. Because she looked like she'd age into the kind of mother Catra have killed for. "Because you look comfortable."

"Oh, God,yes ," Adora said, glaring at her. "That's exactly the compliment every woman longs for."

She leaned forward to bite into her sandwich, and Catra watched transfixed as her breasts pressed against the lace again.

"It's a very sexy comfortable if that makes it better," she said.

"Marginally better," Adora said, following her eyes down. "You're looking down my sweater."

"You're leaning over. There's all that red lace right there."

"Lace is good, huh?" Adora said.

"Oh, yeah."

"My mother wins again," Adora said and bit into her hot dog. Catra picked up her hot dog. "How'd your mother get into this?"

"She's pervasive." Adora swallowed, frowning. "So if you don't like kids, how'd you end up coaching?"

"I didn't say I didn't like kids," Catra said, trying to think of something beside Adora's red lace. "I said I didn't want kids. There's a difference."

"Good point. And yet I ask, why coach?"

"I got shanghaied," Catra said. "We both did. Harry hates baseball as much as I hate coaching." "Who's Harry?"

"My nephew."

"Why don't the two of you go AWOL?"

"Turns out there are other kids on the team besides Harry," Catra said. "Who knew?"

"Funny. So you're out here every Saturday morning?" Adora shook her head. "That must have been some shanghai."

"I got hit by the best." She picked up a pickle and bit into it. "It's not that bad. Roger and Tony do most of the work. They like it."

"Roger," Adora said. "Ah yes, Roger. I have some questions about Roger."

"Not Tony?" Catra said.

"Tony is seeing Lonnie," Adora said. "If Tony turns out to be a rat, Lonnie will exterminate him." "Tony's hard to put down," Catra said, "but I get your drift. So Bonnie's not like that?"

"Bonnie is no pushover," Adora said. "She's smart and she's tough but she has this one blind spot. She believes in the fairy tale, that there's one man in the world for her. And she thinks your friend Roger is her prince on very little evidence. So tell me about Roger."

"Roger's the best guy I know," Catra said. "And he's crazy about Bonnie. He's going to get banged up if she walks away. Tell me about Bonnie."

Adora shifted on the blanket as she reached for her Coke can, and Catra watched her, aware of every move she made, of the smooth curve of her neck as her sweater slipped toward her shoulder, the ease in her round body as she leaned back and smiled at her, the swell of her calf under her checked skirt as it blew toward her again. "Bonnie," Adora said, bringing her back to the subject at hand, "spent a year and a half looking at couches. Couches are very important, they're right up there with beds in hierarchy of furniture, but even I thought a year and a half was a long time looking for a couch."

"Yes," Catra said, trying to think of Roger instead of curves. "But—"

"Then one night we were on the way to the movies and she stopped in front of a furniture store window and said, 'Wait a minute,' and went in and bought this horribly expensive couch in about five minutes." Adora leaned forward again, and Catra looked down her sweater again and thought, Don't do that, I'm getting a headache from the blood rush. "She had to put it on two different credit cards," Adora went on, "and it took her two years to pay it off, but it's a great couch and she's never regretted it, and when she had it reupholstered, the upholsterer said it would last forever."

"Great," Catra said, still looking down her sweater. She was breathing softly, just enough for the rise and fall to—

"Hello," she said and Catra jerked her head up. "Not that I'm not flattered, but I'm making a point here. Roger is Bonnie's new couch. She's always been sure that some day her prince would show up, and she's done a lot of dating looking for him, and now she's taken one look at Roger and she's sure he's the one, and she's going to buy him in about a minute. So if he isn't a good guy, I want to know now so I can break it to her. Tell me he's not a rat."

"Roger took a year to buy a couch, too," Catra said, regrouping. "What kind of couch?" Adora said.

"Sort of a La-Z-Boy with a thyroid problem," Catra said. "I think it's brown."

Adora nodded. "Bonnie bought a reproduction mission settle with cushions upholstered in a celadon William Morris print."

"I think I know what 'mission' is," Catra said. "Everything else, you were speaking Chinese." "Roger's couch is toast," Adora said. "Will he mind?"

"She can chop it into kindling in front of him and he won't blink," Catra said.

"Can he take care of her?" Adora said. "She probably won't need it, but in a crunch—"

"He will throw his body in front of her if necessary. You have nothing to worry about with Roger. He's the best guy I know. If I had a sister, I would let Roger marry her. It's Bonnie I'm worried about it. She's got that efficient look that usually means she likes to boss people around. And since she's so little, there's probably a Napoleon complex—"

"Nope," Adora said. "She's solid. Roger's a lucky guy." She finished the last of her hot dog and then licked a smear of ketchup off her thumb, and Catra lost her train of thought. "So they're okay and we don't have to worry," she said when she'd wiped her hands on a napkin.

"Yep," Catra said. "How about dessert?" "I don't eat dessert," Adora said. "Really?" Catra said. "What a surprise."

"Oh, bite me," Adora said. "I told you there's this bridesmaid's dress—"

Catra pulled a waxed paper bag from the cooler. "Doughnuts," she said, but before she could go on, a too-familiar piping voice came from behind.

"Can I have one?"

She sighed and turned around to see her skinny, grubby, dark-haired nephew standing at the end of the picnic table. "Shouldn't you be home by now?"

"They forgot again," Harry said, putting a lot of pathetic in his voice. It helped that he wore glasses and was small for his age. He peered around Catra. "Hello," he said cautiously to Adora.

"Adora," Catra said, glaring at Harry. "This is my nephew, Harry Horde. He was just leaving. Harry, this is Adora Greyskull."

"Hi, Harry," Adora said cheerfully. "You can have all the doughnuts." Harry brightened.

"No, you can't." Catra took out her cell phone. "You'd just throw them up again."

"Maybe not." Harry sidled closer to the doughnut bag.

"You do remember the cupcake disaster, right?" Catra said as she punched in her sister-in-law's number.

"Can't he have one?" Adora smiled at Harry as he drew closer, her face soft and kind, and Catra and Harry both blinked at her for a moment because she was so pretty.

Then while Catra listened to the phone ring, Harry looked at Adora's skirt and poked it with his finger. "Harry," Catra said, and Adora pulled out one of her sandals.

"Here," she told Harry, and he poked at the flower.

"Those are shoes," Harry said, as if he were observing an anomaly. "Yep," Adora said, watching him, her head tilted.

Harry poked the flower again. "That's not real." "No," Adora said. "It's just for fun."

Harry nodded as if this were a new idea, which, Catra realized, it probably was. Not a lot of floppy flowers on red toes in Harry's world.

Adora reached in the bag and handed him a doughnut. "Thank you, Adora," Harry said, still channeling abused orphans. "Don't buy his act," Catra said to Adora.

"I'm not." Adora grinned at Harry. "You look like you're doing fine, kid." "I had to play baseball," Harry said bitterly. "Are those hot dogs?"

"No," Catra said. "You know you're not allowed to have processed meat. Go over there on that bench and eat your doughnut."

"He can eat it here," Adora said, putting her arm around him protectively. Harry, no dummy, leaned into Adora's hip.

Bet that's soft, Catra thought, and then realized she was close to being jealous of her eight-year-old nephew. "Harry," she said warningly, but then her sister-in-law answered her phone. "Bink? You forgot to pick up your kid."

"No," Bink said in her perfectly modulated tones. "It was his turn." "He's not here," Catra said.

Bink sighed. "Poor Harry. I'll be right there. Thank you, Catra."

"Anything for you, babe." Catra shut off her phone and looked over at Harry. "Your mother is coming.

“Look on the bright side, you get a doughnut and your mother, instead of nothing and your father." "Two doughnuts," Harry said.

"Harry, you barf," Catra said. "You can't have two doughnuts. Now go away. This is a date. Seven years from now, you will understand what that means."

"This isn't a date," Adora said. "He can stay." Harry nodded at her sadly. "It's okay."

"Oh, come off it” Catra said, knowing Harry was milking the situation. "You have a doughnut. Go over on that bench and eat it."

"All right." Harry trailed disconsolately across the grass to a nearby bench, his doughnut clutched in his grubby little hand.

"He's so cute," Adora said, laughing softly. "Who's Bink?"

"My sister-in-law," Catra said, watching Harry, who still looked skinny, grubby, and bitter to her. "I don't see the cute part. But he's not a bad kid."

"Bink," Adora said, as if trying to get her head around the name.

"It's short for Elizabeth," Catra said. "Elizabeth Margaret Remington-Pastor Horde."

"Bink," Adora said. "Okay."

Catra picked up a doughnut. "Your turn, Greyskull." Adora leaned back. "Oh no. No, no, no."

She leaned forward to wave it under her nose. "Come on, sin a little."

"I hate you," Adora said, her eyes on the doughnut. "You are a beast and a vile seducer." Catra lifted an eyebrow. "All that for one doughnut? Come on. One won't kill you."

"I am not eating a doughnut," Adora said, tearing her eyes away from it. "Are you crazy? There are twelve grams of fat in one of those. I have three weeks to lose twenty pounds. Get away from me."

"This is not just a doughnut," Catra said, tearing it in two pieces under Adora's eyes, the chocolate icing and glaze breaking like frost, the tender pastry pulling apart in shreds. "This is a chocolate-iced Krispy Kreme glazed. This is the caviar of doughnuts, the Dom Perignon of doughnuts, the Mercedes-Benz of doughnuts."

Adora licked her lips. "I had no idea you were a pastry freak," she said, trying to pull back farther, but the wind blew her skirt over to Catra again, and this time she moved her knee to pin it down.

She broke a bite-size piece from one of the halves. "Taste it," she said, leaning still closer to hold the piece under her nose. "Come on."

"No." Adora clamped her lips shut, and then shut her eyes, too, screwing up her face as she did.

"Oh, that's adult." Catra reached out and pinched her nose shut, and when she opened her mouth to protest, she popped the doughnut in.

"Oh, God," Adora said, and her face relaxed as the pastry melted in her mouth, her smile curling across her face.

Catra relaxed, too, and thought, Feeding this woman is like getting her drunk.

Then she swallowed and opened her eyes, and Catra held out another piece so she could see that expression again. "Come here, Greyskull."

"No," Adora said, pulling back. "No, no, wo."

"You say that a lot," Catra said. "But the look in your eyes says you want it."

"What I want and what I can have are two different things." Adora leaned back farther, stretching her skirt, but her eyes were on the doughnut. "Get that thing away from me."

"Okay." Catra sat back and bit into it while she watched, the sugar rush distracting her for a moment until Adora bit her lip, her strong white teeth denting the softness there. Catra’s heart picked up speed, and she shook her head at her.

"You little…," she said.

She bit into the doughnut again, and Adora said, "That's enough, I'm out of here," and leaned forward to pull her skirt out from under Catra. "Would you get off—" she began, and Catra popped another piece of doughnut in her mouth and watched as her lips closed over the sweetness. Her face was beautifully blissful, her mouth soft and pouted, her full lower lip glazed with icing, and as she teased the last of the chocolate from her lip, Catra heard a rushing in her ears. The rush became a whisper—THIS one—and she breathed deeper, and before Adora could open her eyes, she leaned in and kissed her, tasting the chocolate and the heat of her mouth, Adora froze for a moment and then kissed her back, sweet and insistent, blanking out all coherent thought. Catra let the taste and the scent and the warmth of her wash over her, drowning in Adora, and when she finally pulled back, Catra almost fell into her lap.

She sat across from Catra, her sweater rising and falling under quick breaths, her blue eyes flashing, wide awake, her lush lips parted, open, and then she spoke.

"More," she breathed

Catra looked into her eyes and went for her.