"Suppose the two of you hit it off?"

"Then I'll probably be a lot better company on the way to Riverdale than if we hate each other. So?"

"I mean really hit it off," I said, "and decide to have dinner together, and then decide to, uh-"

"To do all the things the fifteen-year-olds dream up in the chat rooms. Relax, Bern. It's not gonna happen."

"But if you both really like each other-"

"If that happens," she said, "and I really hope it does, although God knows the odds are against it. But if it does, we'll have a second round of drinks, and then we'll tell each other how much we enjoyed the meeting, and we'll shake hands, with maybe a significant little squeeze at the end of the handshake. And then we'll meet again online and arrange a dinner date."

"That sounds complicated."

"It's a lot simpler to go over to the Cubby Hole and drag some drunk home with you," she allowed, "but most of the time it doesn't work and you wind up going home alone, and when you do get lucky, who do you wind up with? The kind of woman who lets herself get picked up in dyke bars, that's who."

"Oh."

"What I figured I would do, Bern, is have my drinks with GurlyGurl, and then pick up a barbecued chicken on the way home, and after I shared that with the cats I'd go over to the Cubby Hole and make a night of it. But I'd a whole lot rather go with you to Riverdale. Can you really use the company?"

"Well, I'll want to drive. The subway's fine for tonight, but when you're carrying things that don't belong to you, public transportation's not the safest way to go."

"You need me," she said firmly. "Suppose you can't find a parking place?"

"That's what I was thinking."

"We're in business," she said. "I'm your henchperson, just like old times. And of course I won't breathe a word of it, Bern, but GurlyGurl's going to notice that I have an air of mystery about me." She grinned. "So? What could it hurt?"