Page 42 of The Happy Month

“Dwayne is a disaster in the kitchen. Believe me, I cook in self-defense.”

“Men are a disaster because we let them be,” Karen said. “You need to tell that man he needs to learn to cook something. Anything. Spaghetti.”

That was an awkward moment.

Karen said, “We have to go. You have a conference call with Larry at two thirty.”

“I’m probably not going to be there,” I said. “I have an interview at three. A woman named Sharon Hawley. She’sbringing her sister who was in school with Sammy Blanchard.”

Lin returned with our leftovers all boxed up. She put down the check, and a plate of three fortune cookies and some chalky mints. Lydia quickly gave her an American Express card.

After she was gone, Lydia said, “Take a cookie. Let’s see what the future holds.”

I broke mine open and read my fortune: Look over your shoulder, happiness is trying to catch you.

“Karen, you go first,” Lydia said.

She had a sour look on her face. “Your ability to juggle many tasks will take you far.”

“Well, that’s certainly true.”

“I wouldn’t mind a frog I could turn into a prince.”

“That’s not a Chinese fairy tale,” Lydia pointed out. “Dom, what does yours say?”

I told her.

“That’s lovely. You deserve to be happy. Mine says, Eat chocolate to make a sweeter life.”

Imade it to Hot Times about a quarter to three. At the counter, I ordered a latte with whole milk. I hadn’t bothered looking around when I walked in. I wasn’t expecting them to be there. While I waited for my coffee, there wasn’t anything else to do but look around.

The place was about half full. There were a couple of guys working on laptops. One had decorated his with lots of stickies: a rainbow flag, a pink triangle, silence=death—which made me think he was older than he looked. In the corner there was a lesbian couple talking intently.

There were tables outside. Most of them were empty, but then I noticed two women in their later thirties. Two straight women. The sisters were here already. I’d walked right by them without seeing them. My name was called and I took my coffee, made in a gigantic teacup and nicely decorated with a milk tree, outside.

“Sharon?” I asked when I approached them.

Sharon, who was the older sister, thin, tall and fidgety. Her sister, Kelly, was several years younger and much more tentative. Both were bottle blondes with sharp features that betrayed their relationship.

“Yes. You’re Dom?” She sounded surprised for some reason.

“I am,” I said, putting my coffee on the table, and then sitting down.

“This is my sister, Dr. Kelly Wallpole.”

Kelly blushed.

I said, “Thank you for coming. Did Sharon explain what I?—”

Sharon interrupted, “This is the gays neighborhood, isn’t it?”

“Yeah. I mean, you don’t have to take an entrance exam or anything.”

“We parked over in that park—” She pointed to Bixby Park. “The signs. They’ll really arrest you if you drive by the same spot three times?”

“I don’t know. I’ve never put it to the test.”

She gave me a funny look at then asked, “Areyougay?”