"Gil, this is Connie," Sherry said, introducing them. "She works here in the lounge. She serves cocktails. With your consumption, you two should get along famously. Gil is my agent," Sherry added.

Gil grinned, taking in Connie's full, ripe body. "Very nice to know you," he said seductively.

The word "agent" seemed to perk Connie up considerably and Sherry guessed that her appraisal of Connie as an "important people seeker" was correct. She gave Gil a fetching smile, revealing perfectly capped teeth and said, "It must be wonderful and exciting representing real talent," she said. "Traveling all over and seeing interesting and exciting places." Her voice raised a full octave in pitch.

Gil took a long sip from his drink, then contemplated Connie's remark as he chewed ice. "Yes," he agreed, nodding, "and then sometimes it's a lot of shit. Pure, unadulterated bullshit."

Gil had had quite a bit to drink, Sherry could tell, and Connie didn't know just how to react. There was a nervous trembling about the edges of her fixed smile. Gil liked to shock people with language when he'd been drinking. It was one of his favorite games. But of course Connie didn't know that. Victor propped himself up on one elbow grimacing. "Please forgive Gil," he said. "When he's hitting the sauce he has a tendency to try to startle people. You don't find dealings related to our act distasteful do you, Gil?" Victor asked.

"Of course not," he said somewhat apologetically. "I'm talking about entertainment directors and all the crap you have to put up with in dealing with the no-talents. It's the mediocre ones who demand the moon. Sherry here is just ripe."

"I'd hoped so," Victor said, relaxing on the chair again.

"Language like that doesn't bother me," Connie insisted condescendingly, sensing tension. "I'm a cocktail waitress, remember? I hear all kinds of language every night, believe me. Don't worry," she said. "I'm a big girl."