he setting sun flooded the vestibule, but Di’s face was pale and cold under her now perfect wreath and veil. George stood beside her, uncomfortable in his morning suit, darting anxious glances at her. He frowned a question at Min, and she shrugged. She felt for him, but he was low on her list of people to save at the moment.

Wet stood in front of them beside the arch, and then the processional started, and she gave her bustle one final twitch, sniffed, broke into a rigid smile, took a step forward, and turned into the chapel.

Worse moved forward, stood counting until it was her turn, blew a kiss to Di, took a step, smiled a broad cheerleader smile, and turned into the chapel.

Min looked back at Di. “You are my sister, and I am with you no matter what. If you want out of this, I will get you out.”

“Min?” her father said, startled, and Di shook her head.

“Okay.” Min picked up the count from the music, plastered a smile on her face, took a step, and turned into the chapel.

Something caught at her bustle and left her stuck, leaning into the archway in mid-step. She looked behind her and saw Di’s hand clutching the lavender chiffon ruffles on her butt.

“Diana?” her father said, bewilderment in his voice.

Min stepped back. “Daddy, go smile in the archway so they know everything’s all right.” She pried Di’s hand off her ruffles and towed her out onto the church steps into the waning light. “Talk.”

Di’s bouquet trembled in her hands. “Greg slept with my bridesmaid.”

“Susie?” Min said, not surprised but sick just the same. “I knew she—”

“Worse,” Di said.”

“How could it be worse?” Min said and then the other shoe dropped. “Karen?”

Di nodded.

“Oh,” Min said, trying to think of what to say as her rage rose. “Oh, honey.” She put her arm around Di. “Tell me this was before he proposed to you and not—”

“Last night,” Di whispered, and Min took a deep breath, corset or not.

“Son of a fucking bitch.”

“Thank you,” Di said, and sniffed.

“That whore, I swear I’ll rip out every hair on her goddamn head.” Min held Di tighter. “I’ll nail her fucking chignon to the church door, the miserable bitch. And Dad will take Greg apart. He’s been wanting to for months.”

Di sniffed back a sob.

“We’ll take care of you,” Min said. “You are not alone. Liza and Bonnie—” She broke off, realizing that flaunting her friends wasn’t the best move now, trying to imagine how she’d feel if either of one them betrayed her, if Liza slept with Cal, and it was incomprehensible, it couldn’t happen, they’d never—

“I watched you and Cal last night,” Di said, tears blurring her eyes, “and you were so perfect for each other, you were just you, laughing and whispering together, you didn’t have to be anybody else, thin or anything, he loves you just for being you, and I wanted to talk to Greg, I wanted to be that with him, too, so when you fell asleep, I drove over to his apartment, and they were in the bedroom.” Her face crumpled. “They weren’t even on the bed.”

Min put both arms around her and held her close. “And Karen’s blowing you kisses today. The skanky whore.”

“They don’t know I know,” Di said into her shoulder. “They didn’t see me. I backed out.”

“That was very mature,” Min said, gritting her teeth. “I would have put blood on the walls. Okay, I’ll go stop the wedding—”

“No,” Di said, straightening fast. Her pearl-studded corset rose and fell as she sucked in air. “No, no. No.”

“What?” Min said.

“No,” Diana said. “I’m ready to go.”

“Okay, I admire how you’ve handled this,” Min said, trying to sound calm, “but I think actually marrying the son of a bitch may be carrying maturity too far.”

“I have to,” Di said, breathless. “It’s all planned. There are presents. Bonnie put pearls on a cake.”

“I’ll eat the cake,” Min said. “I’ll send the presents back. I’ll even maim the groom for you.”

“No,” Di said. “It wasn’t... He wasn’t... It was just pre-wedding jitters. We’ll be fine.”

“Di.” Min took as deep a breath as possible and tried to sound calm. “Pre-wedding jitters means he panics at the bachelor party. It doesn’t mean he fucks your best friend.”

Di shook her head. “No, no. Not everybody finds a Cal. Greg is a good man. He just... panicked. I’m getting married.” She swallowed. “I just had to tell somebody. It’s a relief to tell somebody.”

“Oh.” Min felt sick. “Okay. But if you change your mind at any time, in the middle of the ceremony, in the middle of your honeymoon, in the middle of the birth of your first child, I will be there to help you leave. You say the word and we’re gone. You are not alone.” She tried to take another breath and her corset fought back. “Listen, are you sure? Because I—”

Di nodded. “I just had to tell somebody. I’m okay.”

“Wonderful,” Min said, “I’m not.” She waited another beat for her to back down, but Di walked past her into the vestibule, leaving her nothing to do but follow.

Min smiled at her father, who looked crazed, took her place in the arch, and started down the aisle, vaguely aware that David and Cynthie were in a pew together looking tense, that Bonnie and Liza were in the third pew from the altar sending her “What the hell?” looks, that Cal was in the second row staring fascinated at her neckline, and that Greg-the-bastard was up at the front looking annoyed. Die, you treacherous scum-sucking pig, she thought, and that was so inadequate she began to think of other things, not realizing she was scowling until she saw Cal’s eyes widen and Greg take a step back.

She smoothed out her face. Okay, there was that “show just cause or hold your peace” moment for stopping weddings, the escape clause. She could say something there. But if she did, she’d ruin Di’s wedding, and she had a feeling the wedding was more important to her sister than the marriage. And even if it wasn’t, it was Di’s choice. Min was not going to be her mother, running Di’s life for her.

She took her place beside Worse at the front of the church and thought about smacking her in the face with her bouquet. Maybe she could say she’d slipped. A couple of times.

Worse sighed and shook her head at Min, pointing at her own wreath.

Bitch whore, Min thought, and straightened her wreath.

The wedding march kicked in, and Min turned and watched as Diana started down the aisle, a Hollywood vision with the sun shining behind her like a blessing.

Her face was lost, and Min’s heart broke for her.

Min turned away and saw Cal frowning at her. He mouthed “What?” at her and she shook her head, almost in tears. Not even he could fix this one.

Di reached the front of the church, the ceremony began, and after a while people began to stir in their seats. They know something’s wrong, Min thought. They weren’t getting that happiness buzz people were supposed to get at weddings. Even Di’s bustle looked tragic.

Then the minister said, “If any man can show just cause why they may not lawfully be joined together, let him now speak,” and Min took a step closer to her sister.

Di turned to look at her, and Min met her eyes. “Do it.”

After a moment, the minister nodded, and began the vows.

Di reached out and clutched Min’s arm and whispered, “I do,” and Min sighed in relief.

“Not yet, dear,” the minister whispered back.

“No,” Min said to him. “That’s not what she means.” She nodded at Diana again. “Do it.”

Di swallowed. “I object,” she said, but her voice was so faint that the minister leaned forward.

“She objects,” Min said loudly.

“To what?” Greg said.

“To you, you traitorous son of a bitch,” Min said, and heard a gasp from the front pews. Loud voice, loud voice, she told herself. Not your loud voice. Then she looked at Greg again, and thought, Hell, yes, my loud voice.

“I object,” Di said, her voice up to room temperature again. She turned so she was facing the pews. “I object to the groom sleeping with my bridesmaid last night. I object to the groom being a—” Her voice broke.

“Cheating, scum-sucking pig,” Min said to Greg behind Di’s back, definitely in her loud voice.

“Yes,” Di said, and walked down the steps, her bouquet quivering.

“Also, your hair is stupid,” Min said to Greg, and started down the chapel steps after her sister. Greg caught her arm, and said, “Wait a minute—” and she swung back to let him have it, and then Cal was between them, shouldering Greg aside. Behind them Wet said to Worse, “You slept with Greg?,” and then somebody tapped Greg on the shoulder just as Wet lunged for Worse, and Greg turned around and met George’s fist as Wet yanked hard on Worse’s chignon, and Worse went ass over elbow into the front pew.

Cal caught Greg by the shoulders just before he hit the ground, and they both looked up to see Nanette, coming at them, exquisite in pearl gray.

“You’re a horrible man,” she said to Greg, and kicked him in the ribs with her pointed Manolo Blahniks.

“Mother,” Min said.

Nanette said, “Thirty-seven goddamn years,” kicking him on every word, until Min pulled her away. She staggered sideways and ended up facing George, who was trying to get past Cal to hit Greg again. “And you, too,” Nanette said and smacked him in the head with her purse.

George put his hands up to ward her off and said, “What did I do?” and she stormed down the aisle, her head held high.

Behind George’s back, Wet said, “You bastard,” to Greg and began to hit him in the face with her bouquet while Worse tried to crawl out of the pew.

“I have to go to Di,” Min said to Cal. “Step on his head, will you?”

“Go,” Cal said, and the last thing she saw as she turned for the door was Cal dropping Greg on the carpet to block George from hitting him again while Wet whaled on him with her orchids.

Cal found Min at the reception, since Di had insisted on going to meet anybody who might show up. They were sitting in the mostly deserted ballroom with Liza, Bonnie, and an entirely too cheerful Wet, while Roger ferried champagne back and forth and Nanette consoled Di with the news that all men were cheating scum.

“Mother,” Min said, and Cal took her hand and pulled her out into the hall with him.

“My mother is insane,” Min said to him.

“You just noticed?” Cal said, trying not to be distracted by her bulging neckline. “That looks like it hurts.”

“It does,” Min said. “I’ve spent the entire day in bondage.” She peered back through the archway. “Look at Wet. She’s in there giggling. To think that I ever felt sorry for that wench. Did you need me for something?”

“Yes,” Cal said, getting a little dizzy as her cleavage rose and fell. “Especially now that you brought up bondage. When can you take that off?”

“I think I could lose it now, except the knots are so tight I can’t get them undone.” She ran her finger around the top of the corset, and Cal thought, Let me do that. “It’s killing me.”

“Wait,” Cal said, and fished in his pocket for his pocketknife.

He slipped the knife under the bow and sliced through the ribbon, and Min took a deep breath as the rest of the corset began to unlace itself from the pressure. “Oh, Lord, that feels good.”

Cal watched the rise and fall of her loosened corset. “Looks good, too.” Even though he knew better, he drew his finger down the slope of her breast and felt the need for her that had been simmering for weeks flare up again.

If he didn’t have her soon, he was going to lose his mind.

She said, “Hey,” and caught his hand.

“Not my fault,” he said, close to her mouth. “You were flaunting.”

Her mouth melted under his, warm with familiarity, and her breath came faster as his hand curled around the firmness of her breast. “Oh,” she said, and he kissed his way down the smooth curve of her neck and felt her sigh under his hand. “Oh, that feels so good. But I have to—”

“I know,” he said, holding on to her. “I shouldn’t have—” He kissed her again, wanting her so much that he couldn’t let go.

“Yes, you should have,” Min said, against his mouth. “But Di—”

“Right,” Cal said, remembering his mission. “That’s what I came to tell you. One of the ushers has Greg out in the car. Does Diana want to see him before he goes? He wants to apologize.”

“Hell, no,” Min said, pulling away from him. “What can he possibly say?”

“ ‘I’m the biggest cliché in bad wedding stories’?” Cal said, missing her warmth. “If it helps, the ushers are disgusted with him, too.”

“I hate him,” Min said, looking back into the ballroom.

“How is she?” Cal said, following her eyes to her sister, feeling guilty that he was having carnal thoughts while Di was in misery.

“I think she’s almost relieved,” Min said, watching her. “Not happy, and she’s going to cry, but I think she knew she wanted the wedding and not Greg.”

“Very sensible of her,” Cal said. “Who would want Greg?”

Min stretched up and kissed him. “I’m staying with her tonight.”

“I figured,” Cal said, hating it anyway. He wrapped his arms around her and hugged her close. “I want you, Minerva.”

“I’m free tomorrow night,” she said, smiling up at him. “Go get rid of that jerk and come back for champagne.”

“Be right back,” Cal said, and kissed her again, surprised all over again that it was so easy, that everything with her had become so easy. That can’t be right, he thought, but he grinned anyway as he went to tell the ushers they could remove Greg.

On his way back from the car, Cal ran into David.

“I think the reception’s over, David,” Cal said, trying not to snarl. “You can go home now.”

“I can’t,” David said, looking noble. “There’s something you should know.”

Oh, hell, Cal thought and said, “What?”

“That bet we made,” David said, “the one where you could get Min into bed in a month.”

“What?” Cal looked at him, confused. “What bet? We didn’t make that bet. That was you, being drunk and reckless.”

“Min knows,” David said, and Cal felt a chill. “She overheard it that night, that’s why she went out with you, to pay us both back and to get a date to this fiasco. They all knew, Liza, Bonnie, her sister, she told everybody. They’ve all been laughing at us.”

The hallway suddenly seemed too narrow, not enough air, and it was much too cold for June.

“I had to tell you because if she knows about it, the bet’s off. You never had a chance to win. She’s been playing you the whole time.”

“No,” Cal said, his throat tight. “She wouldn’t.” The familiar slug of shame and self-loathing hit him—how stupid can you be?—even while common sense told him this was David making trouble, that Min wouldn’t do that—

“Face it,” David said, clapping him on the shoulder. “She made fools of us. Well, you more than me because I wasn’t trying to get her into bed, but I feel pretty stupid, too.”

Cal looked at him with loathing. “At last, some self-knowledge.” She knew. She thinks I’m stupid.

“Hey.” David held his hands up. “Don’t turn on me. I’m not the one who’s been making you look stupid for a month.”

Cal flinched and then turned and walked away, back into the reception hall. It wasn’t true, Min wasn’t like that, she wouldn’t do that, except that suddenly a lot of things that had been inexplicable now made sense.

He walked across the almost-deserted reception hall to where Min was trying to shield Diana from Nanette. “Could I talk to you for a minute?” he said.

Min looked up from Diana and said, “Now isn’t—”

“Now,” Cal said, and Min’s eyes widened and she nodded. “I’ll be right back, baby,” she said to Diana, and let him draw her out into the hall, casting anxious looks back to her sister as she went.

“Is it Greg?” she said when they were in the hall where she could still keep an eye on Diana. “Did he—”

“Why did you go to dinner with me that first night?” Cal said.

“What?” Min said, so surprised she stopped looking at Di.

“Tell me the truth.”

Min straightened. “I went...” She looked away from him and shook her head. “I went because you made a bet with David you could get me into bed in a month, and I needed a date for this wedding. And then we went out and you were so slick I knew I couldn’t stand that for three weeks and I thanked you for dinner and went home. And why we have to talk about this now is beyond me.”

“Why in hell would you keep going out with me if you thought I’d do that?” Cal said, a month’s worth of frustration morphing into anger. “For the sport? Was it funny?”

“No,” Min said, sounding annoyed. “That’s why I kept turning you down. Could we discuss this la—”

“So,” Cal said. “You turned me down to make a fool of me, and you and Bonnie and Liza sat around and laughed about it.”

“No,” Min said, exasperated. “We thought you were slime. It wasn’t funny at all.”

“Ah,” Cal said, nodding at her. “This is why Liza kept hitting me.”

“Yes. But I don’t care.” She spat the last word from between her teeth. “It doesn’t matter.”

“You care,” Cal said, grimly. “You’re mad as hell. That’s why you’ve been playing me, making me crazy for you, making me look like—”

“Hey,” Min said, pointing her finger at him. “I have been completely honest with you.”

“You never asked me about the bet,” Cal said.

“Yeah, I did,” Min said, folding her arms. “And you ducked it every time I asked.”

“No, you didn’t ask.” Cal folded his arms. “And you know how I know? Because I’d have told you I didn’t make that bet.”

“I was standing right there,” Min said.

“Then you didn’t listen very well,” Cal said. “I told him no.”

“You said, ‘Piece of cake,’ ” Min snapped.

“I have never said ‘Piece of cake’ in my life,” Cal said. “It’s a stupid thing to say.” He took a deep breath and thought, Fuck it. “How stupid do you think I am?” he said savagely, and Min froze. “How stupid does everybody think I am?”

“Not stupid,” she said, watching him warily now. “What’s going on?”

“They all thought I’d made that bet with a sleaze like David.” Cal shook his head at the breadth of her betrayal. “Because you told them I made that bet. And they watched you play me, and like a fool I fell for it.”

“You did make it,” Min said, but she sounded uncertain. “Look, I didn’t think you were stupid, I thought you were... awful. But then you weren’t awful so I... Where is this coming from? You know how I feel about you. I love you. The bet doesn’t matter—”

“It doesn’t matter?” Cal said. “How stupid are you?”

“Hey,” Min said, her face darkening. “Okay, look, I know this is pushing all your buttons, but get a grip. I love you, you know I love you, but I don’t have time to baby-sit you right now—”

“Baby-sit me?” Cal clenched his jaw to keep from screaming at her, because she’d betrayed him and because he still wanted her, desperately. Get out of this, he thought, and said, “Well, you’ll never have to baby-sit me again.”

“What?” Then she started to nod, her face twisted in anger. “Oh. I get it. Of course. You’re running. You bastard. You got what you wanted, I said ‘I love you,’ the game is over, and now you’re out the door. I knew you’d do this. I knew you’d do this.”

“This is not about me,” Cal said, not meeting her eyes.

“Oh, please,” Min snapped. “This is all about you. One hundred percent of your relationships end with you running away. This is you grabbing any excuse to get—”

“Hey,” Tony said, and they both turned to see him standing in the doorway, looking madder than Cal had ever seen him. “I don’t know what the fuck you’re doing, but whatever it is, it’s not as important as what that kid in there is going through. You’ve got the rest of your lives to fight, she needs you now.”

“Tell Min I didn’t make that damn bet with David to have sex with her,” Cal said.

Tony looked at Min, exasperated. “He didn’t make that bet.”

“I heard him make the bet,” Min said. “David said that he’d have to get the gray-checked suit into bed in a month and he said, Piece of... cake.’ ” She looked from Tony to Cal. “Oh.”

“I said ‘Piece of cake,’ ” Tony said. “I was wrong. I don’t care. Fight about it later. Right now, get your ass back in there and help your sister. Your mother took her champagne away because it has too many calories, and that damn bridesmaid in the green dress keeps laughing.”

“You’re right,” Min said, stepping toward the door. “But we won’t be fighting about it later because Calvin has decided it’s time to go.”

“You’re kidding me,” Tony said, looking at them both with contempt. “You two are the biggest babies I’ve ever seen.”

“What?” Min said, stopping.

“Here’s the short version,” Tony said to Min. “You’re a man-hating bitch and he’s a woman-fearing coward.” He looked at Cal. “Get over that, will you?”

“The hell with both of you,” Min said and went back to her sister, as Cal turned on Tony.

“They’re all like that,” Nanette was saying to Di when Min got back to them, seething. “You can’t trust any of them.” She gestured with the champagne glass she was holding. “They tell you they love you and then—”

Min grabbed the glass out of her hand. “Here,” she said, handing it to Di. “We’re drinking about twelve bottles of this tonight, so get started.”

“Do you know how many calories—” Nanette began.

“Listen, you,” Min said to her. “You’re going home and throwing out every damn fashion magazine in the house. You’re going cold turkey, it’s the only thing that’s going to save you.”

Nanette straightened. “Just because you won’t lose the weight, doesn’t mean Diana has to be fat.”

“I’m not fat, Mother,” Min said. “But while we’re on the subject, I don’t see where not eating for fifty-five years has made you particularly happy. Go home and eat something, for Christ’s sake.” She looked around. “Where are those goddamn cake boxes?”

“I’ll get them,” Roger said, and went fast.

“I think that’s very sensible,” Wet said, beaming at Min.

“And you,” Min said. “Go someplace else and gloat. In fact, go find Greg. You deserve each other. He’s a selfish bastard and you love to be beat.”

“That’s not fair,” Wet said, back to her familiar whine.

“Hit the road, Wet,” Liza said. “You’ve been laughing ever since you stopped hitting Worse. If you’re not going to be a comfort, have the decency to be an empty space.”

“Well, at least I’m not Tart,” Wet said and stalked off.

“Did she just call me a tart?” Liza said to Bonnie.

Min sat down next to Diana in Wet’s vacated chair.

“Here’s what we’re going to do,” she said, taking her hand. “We’re going to get those cake boxes and a case of the champagne, and we’re going back to my place.”

“Okay,” Diana said, her voice breaking again.

“And we’re going to eat cake and get drunk,” Min said.

“Oh, Min,” Nanette said. “It’ll take you weeks to work off those calories.”

Min looked at her mother for a moment and thought, This is what Diana lives with every damn day. “And then,” she said to Diana, “since you have the week off for your honeymoon, I’m going to take the week off, too, and we’re going to go house-hunting.”

Diana stopped crying. “House-hunting?”

“Yes,” Min said. “I’m going to buy a great two bedroom Arts and Crafts bungalow. And you’re going to move in with me.”

“I am?” Diana said, sitting up a little.

“Yes,” Min said. “You’ve lived with the calorie police for too long.”

“That’s ridiculous,” Nanette said. “She is not going to move.”

“But there are some rules,” Min said, and Diana swallowed and nodded. “There will always be butter in the refrigerator. There will be no sound tracks from Julia Roberts movies. And from now on,” she said, looking toward the door where Cal was glaring at Tony, “we only date ugly men.”

Diana was nodding at Min. “And I’ll get out of the way on Thursday nights.”

“Why?” Min said, mystified.

“So you guys can have your If Dinner,” she said, and Min realized that the worst thing that had happened to Di wasn’t that she’d lost Greg, it was that she’d lost her best friends. She thought again of what it would be like if Bonnie and Liza had betrayed her, and she lost her breath at how far beyond horrible that would be.

As bad as losing Cal.

“You’ll come, too,” Bonnie said, putting her arm around Di.

“Hell, yes,” Liza said, as Roger came back with a tray of cake boxes and the cake topper. She ripped the bride and groom off the cake top and put it in front of Diana and said, “Pay attention, Little Stats, we’re about to have a moment.” Diana looked up and Liza stomped on the head of the groom, shattering it into dust. “Now,” she said. “He is officially history. And if there’s a God, he has a splitting headache.”

“I think you can count on that,” Roger said. “He got hit a lot.”

“Good,” Liza said. “Now we’re going back to Min’s and get drunk.”

Diana looked at Min through her tears. “Can I wear your bunny slippers?”

“You can have my bunny slippers,” Min said, thinking of Cal in furious misery.

She looked toward the door and saw him standing there, watching her, and then Tony was in her way, spreading out his hands, saying to Liza, “Nice job on the cake topper, ace. I suppose you had to kill the groom,” and Liza said, “Defend him and die,” and Tony said, “No, he was an asshole even without the haircut,” and Diana laughed and then cried again.

Out in the hall, Cal turned and Min saw Cynthie standing behind him. He stopped for a moment, and then he left, and Cynthie went with him.

Right. You wouldn’t stay to help because it’s not about you, is it, buddy? Min thought and then shoved him out of her mind and turned back to Diana.

“I’m a coward?” Cal had said to Tony when Min had gone, pleased to be fighting with somebody he could hit.

“I can’t believe you’re running away from this one,” Tony said. “Hell, Cal, you’re thirty-five, aren’t you tired of that shit by now?”

“You’re thirty-five, too,” Cal said grimly.

“And I have never in my life looked at a woman the way you look at Min,” Tony said. “I’d be pissed at her, that all-men-are-pigs bit is a pain in the ass, but I’d tell her that, I wouldn’t walk away from her. What’s wrong with you?”

“This is not about me,” Cal said.

“Jesus,” Tony said and turned back to the ballroom.

“Where are you going?” Cal said.

Tony shook his head. “Back to where there’s real trouble. We’re all in there. Why aren’t you?”

Then he walked away and Cal looked past him to where Min had her arms around Diana, and Bonnie was leaning close to them, and Roger was holding a tray of cake in one hand and patting Diana on the back with the other, and Liza was smashing something with her foot, and as Tony got closer, he spread his hands out, and Diana looked up and gave him a watery smile and Cal knew he was clowning again, doing his bit. Fuck, he thought. I should be in there. Then Min looked up and saw him, her face set and stormy, and he flinched and thought, The hell with you, and turned, furious and miserable to see Cynthie, looking lovelier than ever.

“Are you all right?” she said.

“No,” Cal said.

She smiled at him. “I know a place we can get a drink.”

“Where’s that?” Cal said.

“My place,” Cynthie said.

“Let’s go,” Cal said, and left, knowing Min was watching.

Cal spent most of Monday fuming about what a bitch Min had been, and Tuesday wasn’t much better. It didn’t help that in the same two days, Cynthie had called twice to talk him into the drink he’d turned down when he’d dropped her off at her place, every client had become intensely stupid, and his partners kept looking at him as if he’d been drowning puppies. Worst of all, he missed Min so much, wanted her so much, that it was making him sick. The crowning touch to his day was his mother, calling him at work to find out if he was seeing Cynthie again.

“No,” he said. “I’m never going to see her again, so get off my ass about her.”

“Calvin,” his mother said, in a voice that would have stopped him cold any other day.

“In fact,” he said, “since I’m such an overwhelming disappointment to you, I’m never going to see you again, either.”

“Calvin?” his mother said, a new note in her voice.

“Forget it,” Cal said, and hung up.

Tony came over and unplugged his phone. “You get this back when you call her,” he said. “Until then, you don’t talk to people.”

“I’m never calling her again,” Cal said. “She’s been a bitch my whole life and I’m done with her.”

“Not your mother, you dumbass,” Tony said. “Min.”

“She’s been a bitch for a month and I’m done with her, too,” Cal said. “The hell with both of them.”

“That’s very mature,” Tony said, sounding just like Min.

Roger shook his head and went back to work, and Cal ignored them both to savagely edit a seminar packet.

When he got home, he threw his suit coat on the couch, picked up his Glenlivet and then stopped as Elvis began to sing “She” next door.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” he said and slammed the Glenlivet down.

When he pounded on Shanna’s door, a strange woman answered, brown-haired, a little below medium height. “Oh,” he said. “I thought... Shanna...”

“Oh, she’s here.” The woman smiled at him, a sweet smile that reminded him of Min, her eyes huge in her round face as she stepped back. “Shanna?”

Cal looked past her to Shanna, carrying two ruby goblets out of the kitchen.

“Cal!” she said, smiling. “This is Linda. Linda, this is my next-door neighbor, Cal.” Her smile widened and she jerked her head toward the stereo. “First date music.”

“Oh,” Cal said, taking a step back. “Hell, I’m sorry...”

“Don’t you just love Elvis?” Linda said.

“Yeah,” Cal said. “Good for you, Shan. I’ll see you later.”

“Stay for a drink,” Shanna said, with a look that telegraphed, Get lost.

“Can’t stay,” Cal said. “I have to...” He jerked his head toward his apartment, at a loss for what he might have to do over there besides fume.

“Is Min there?” Shanna said, putting the glasses down on the breakfast bar. “Maybe later we could—”

“No,” Cal said, his rage back on the surface again. “Min is not there.”

Shanna stopped, reading his face. “Oh, no. What did you do?”

“Strangely enough, nothing,” Cal said. “Why do you assume—”

“I don’t care,” Shanna said. “Get her back.”

“It’s done,” Cal said.

“No, it is not,” Shanna said. “You really lost something this time.”

“This is not about me,” Cal said.

“Yes, it is,” Shanna said. “This time it is. What happened?”

Cal shook his head. “Nope. Not interesting.” He nodded at Linda. “Very nice to meet you.” He turned to go but Shanna grabbed the back of his shirt in her fist and yanked.

“Sit down and tell me everything,” she said. “Or I will track you back to your apartment and bitch at you until you tell me there.”

Fifteen minutes later she said, “Well, it’s a toss-up as to which of the two of you is dumber.”

“Hey,” Cal said.

“You’re desperately in love with each other and you’re playing footsie with it. Do you know how rare what you have is?”

“Christ, I hope so,” Cal said. “I’d hate to think there was an epidemic of this garbage.”

“Stop it,” Shanna said. “You want her back.”

“Why would I—”

“Stop it!” Shanna said. “You want her back.”

Cal sat back on the couch and the memory of Min he’d been fighting for two days came back. He put his head in his hands. “Oh, Christ, I want her back. Which shows you how stupid I really am.”

“Oh, for heaven’s sake, call her,” Shanna said. “Tell her you’re sorry.”

Cal jerked his head up. “Hey, I’m the injured party here.”

“Yeah,” Shanna said. “That been keeping you warm at night, has it? Call her. Tell her you want to talk to her tomorrow night. Take a nice bottle of wine, tell her you love her, work out this non-problem, and live happily ever after.”

“Why tomorrow?” Cal said, confused. “If I’m going to apologize for something I did not do, I could go over there now—”

“Because by then you’ll have lost the bet,” Shanna said.

“I didn’t make the bet,” Cal said.

Linda moved a little farther away from him on the couch.

“Stop yelling,” Shanna said. “It doesn’t matter. You hit her where it hurts.”

“What—”

“She’s not beautiful,” Shanna said over him. “She’s not thin. She knows that everybody who sees you with her wonders how she got you.”

“That’s not true,” Cal said. “She’s amazing.”

“Right,” Shanna said. “We see that, but there are many people who don’t. Including, I believe, her ex-boyfriend who dumped her and then tried to make that bet with you.”

“Ouch,” Linda said.

“And then you come along, gorgeous and perfect, and you convince her you love her—”

“I do love her, damn it,” Cal said.

“—only it turns out you made a bet—”

Cal stood up. “I did not make that bet—”

“—that you could take her to dinner,” Shanna went on.

Cal sat down.

“And she thought you were trying to get her into bed for a bet, and then in the end, when things got tense, instead of standing by her, you walk out with your gorgeous ex-girlfriend.”

“Not good,” Linda said.

“Oh, hell.” Cal put his head in his hands again. “I can’t believe I fell for this. I can’t believe I let that asshole David Fisk do this. I am stupid.”

“Only this once,” Shanna said. “It’s going to be okay. All you have to do is throw the bet. Big deal, you lose a little pride and ten bucks.”

“Ten thousand bucks,” Cal said.

“Whoa,” Linda said, straightening. “This is like cable.”

“You bet David ten thousand dollars you could get Min into bed?” Shanna said, incredulous.

Cal looked at the ceiling. “Does anybody here listen to me?”

“He didn’t make the bet,” Linda told Shanna.

“Thank you,” Cal said.

“Everybody knows about the bet,” Shanna says. “It exists in everybody’s minds and if you sleep with her before... when is the bet up?”

“Tomorrow at nine, nine-thirty, I don’t know,” Cal said, trying to remember when they’d made the damn thing. Hadn’t made the damn thing. Christ, even he was doing it.

“Is she worth losing ten thousand dollars?”

“Hell, yes,” Cal said.

“Well, there you are. Go call her and tell her you’ll see her after you lose the bet.” Shanna folded her arms, implacable. “Don’t make me come over there and do it for you.”

“Do it,” Linda said to Cal. “It’s romantic in a perverse sort of way.”

“Thank you,” Cal said to her. “On that note, I’m going home.” He got up and left, ignoring Shanna’s “Cal.”

Shanna was wrong, he told himself as he poured himself another Scotch, but the thought didn’t have much conviction. He closed his eyes and thought of Min and tried to remind himself that it was all treachery, but he kept hearing her say, “I love you,” and he knew it was true.

“Oh fuck,” he said and when the doorbell rang, he yanked it open, prepared to deck Shanna if she was going to yap about Min anymore.

It was Cyn, looking hot as hell in her blue halter top and short black skirt. She tilted her head up at him and her glossy black hair swung back. “I know you’re upset,” she said, softly. “I don’t want you to be alone.”

“I’m all right,” he said, as she stepped closer.

“No, you’re not,” she said. “She hit you hard.” She held up a bottle of Glenlivet. “Come on, talk about it. You’ll feel better.”

She’ll do anything I ask, Cal thought. And the world is full of women like her. Why do I need Min?

Cynthie smiled up at him, lovely and warm. “Do I get to come in?”

“No,” Cal said. “I have to make a phone call.”