“You better give my curling iron back!” Bets said. “I’m going to tell my mother you stole it.”

“Out,” she said. She escorted both of them out of her apartment, slid the door shut, and went into the living room. She lifted up the pile of folded blankets on the end of the couch and stuck the curling iron under it.

“You’re really engaged to that guy on the phone?” Hutchins said, leaning against the door, his hands in his jeans pockets.

“Yes,” she said, straightening back up. “Why?”

“Because ‘let him do anything he wants,’ covers a lot of territory. What if Okee decided he wanted to carry you off with him to Eahrohhsani, or wherever it is they came from, and make you his bride?”

“Mr. Ohghhifoehnn… he is a very nice man. Alien. Eahrohh. And he would not…”

“Earrose. They drop an e and add some h’s to make it plural.”

“Earrose. Mr. Hutchins, I don’t care what Mr.… he told you. You can’t stay here. There isn’t any space. The landlord has people living on the stairs.”

“Hutchins stay here,” Ohghhifoehnnahigrheeh said. He peeked around Hutchins and then disappeared back into the hall.

Chris went after him.

“Tall,” he said, smiling and nodding. “High ceilings. Stay here.”

“But there isn’t any space. Mr. Ohghhifoehnnah… where will he sleep?”

“My room.” He took hold of the handlebars of the bike and started pulling it toward his door. Chris backed up against the piano to get out of the way of the handlebars. “I keep in here. Lots of space.”

“ ’Scuse me,” Charmaine said brightly. She had put on her makeup, but not where Chris had expected it. She had the hapi coat draped over her arm.

“Where exactly do you work?” Chris said.

“Luigi’s Tempura Pizzeria and Sutorippu. That means strip show. I’m in the Fan Tan Fannie number,” she said. She turned around.