Pause,while I consider this scenario, then: "The second fuckingrow? No way, baby. You haven't started your ignition yet. Will I seeyon tomorrow night, baby?"

"I'mcoming with Jason Priestley."

"Whyaren't you coming with me? Am I the only one who thinks JasonPriestley looks like a little caterpillar?"

"Victor,that's not nice," she pouts. "What would Chloe think?"

"Shethinks Jason Priestley looks like a little caterpillar too," Imurmur, lost in thought. "The fucking second row?"

"That'snot what I meant," Anjanette says. "What would Chloe thinkof—"

"Spareme, baby, but you're supergreat." I start the Vespa up again."Take your passion and make it happen."

"I'veheard you've been naughty anyway, so I'm not surprised," shesays, tiredly wagging her finger at me, which Scooter, the bodyguardwho looks like Marcellus from Pulp Fiction, interprets as"move closer."

"Whatdo you mean by that, pussycat?" I ask. "What have youheard?"

Scooterwhispers something, pointing at his watch, while Anjanette lights acigarette. "There's always a car waiting. There's always aSteven Meisel photo shoot. Jesus, how do we do it, Victor? How do wesurvive this mess?" A gleaming black sedan rolls forward andScooter opens the door.

"Seeyou, baby." I hand her a French tulip I just happen to beholding and start pulling away from the curb.

"OhVictor," she calls out, handing Scooter the French tulip. "Igot the job! I got the contract."

"Great,baby. I gotta run. What job, you crazy chick?"

"Guess?."

"Matsuda?Gap?" I grin, limousines honking behind me. "Baby, listen,see you tomorrow night."

"No.Guess?."

"Baby,I already did. You're mind-tripping me."

"Guess?,Victor," she's shouting as I pull away.

"Baby,you're great," I shout back. "Call me. Leave a message. Butonly at the club. Peace."