The maître d’ stops by to say hello to McDermott, then notices we don’t have our complimentary Bellinis, and runs off before any of us can stop him. I’m not sure how McDermott knows Alain so well—maybe Cecelia?—and it slightly pisses me off but I decide to even up the score a little bit by showing everyone my new business card. I pull it out of my gazelleskin wallet (Barney’s, $850) and slap it on the table, waiting for reactions.

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Your compliment was sufficient.

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“New card.” I try to act casual about it but I’m smiling proudly. “What do you think?”

“Whoa,” McDermott says, lifting it up, fingering the card, genuinely impressed. “Very nice. Take a look.” He hands it to Van Patten.

“Picked them up from the printer’s yesterday,” I mention.

“Cool coloring,” Van Patten says, studying the card closely.

“That’s bone,” I point out. “And the lettering is something called Silian Rail.”

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I’m in the men’s room, staring at myself in the mirror—tan and haircut perfect—checking out my teeth which are completely straight and white and gleaming.

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I pick up Montgomery’s card and actually finger it, for the sensation the card gives off to the pads of my fingers.

“Nice, huh?” Price’s tone suggests he realizes I’m jealous.

“Yeah,” I say offhandedly, giving Price the card like I don’t give a shit, but I’m finding it hard to swallow.

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