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“Well . . .” Janey said. “Let me put it this way. If he were my lover, he’d be my boyfriend.”
“No, he wouldn’t,” Bill said.
“Why not?” Janey said.
“Because he’s married,” Bill said.
“Is not!”
“Is so!”
“He is not married,” Janey said. “I would know.”
“Hey, Jake,” Bill said to the bartender. “Isn’t Comstock Dibble married?”
“I dunno.”
“You ever see him in here with anyone?”
“Only that socialite. Whasername. The one with the face like a horse.”
“See?” Janey said.
“He is married,” Bill said. “To the horsey socialite. He keeps her in a barn and only lets her out on special occasions when she has to race other horsey socialites. And the grand prize is . . . one million dollars for charity! Whe-e-e-e-e-e-e.”
“Oh Bill,” she said.
She let him walk her home, and she let him kiss her on the stoop. She hoped that Comstock wouldn’t drive up at that moment, but it was unlikely, as he only came to the Hamptons on weekends. “Go away,” she said after a while.
“Janey,” he said, smearing kisses over her face. “Why can’t I be your lover again? If you can sleep with Comstock Dibble, surely you can sleep with me.”
“Who said I’m sleeping with Comstock Dibble?”
“He’s so ugly.”
“As a matter of fact, he’s the sexiest man I’ve ever met in my life, but you don’t need to know that.”
“I’ll never understand you women,” Bill said.
“Good-bye, Bill,” Janey said.
“I want to see you again,” he whined.
She poked him in the chest with her index finger. “Only if you help me with my screenplay.”
“What’s it about?”
She turned to go back into the house. “What do you think it’s about?” she called over her shoulder.
“I don’t know.”
“Me!”
She closed the screen door and flopped onto the couch. She laughed. She picked up the phone and left Comstock a sexy message.
This was going to be the best summer ever.
VII
