"Oh, great," said Tom, "now she thinks we're gay."
"Not at all," said Rainie. "If I thought you were gay I'd be therewith bells on. The refreshments are always great at gay parties. It'syou pick-up basketball-game types who think beer and limp pretzels area righteous spread."
Raymond rose to his feet. "Behold our nuncheon feast, yourmajesty," he said. "Do we look like the beer and pretzels type?"
"No, you actually look like the boys who always made disgustingmesses out of the table scraps on their school-lunch trays."
"That's it!" cried Tom. "She understands us! And she put abrilliant last line on the song. Tonight at seven, Idie Baby, I'll pick youup."
From the look on Douglas's face, Rainie knew that she should sayno. But she could feel the loneliness of these past few weeks in thistown -- and, truth to tell, of the months, the years, before -- like asharp pain within her. Being on the fringes of this group of glad friendsmade her feel like ... what? Like her best days living on the street. That's what it was. She had found the street after all. Grown up alittle, most of them wearing suits, but here in this godforsaken town shehad found some people who had the street in their souls, and shecouldn't bear to say no. Not unless Douglas made her say it.
And he didn't make her say it. On the contrary. She looked himin the eye and he half smiled and gave her a little shrug. Suit yourself,that's what he was saying. So she did.
"OK, so I'll be there," she said.
"But you should be aware," said Tom, "we probably aren't as funas your gay friends' parties."
"Naw," she said, "they stopped being fun in the eighties, whenthey started spending all their time talking about who had AIDS andwho didn't."
"What a downer," said Raymond.
"Bad karma!" said the mechanic.