We enter the ballroom and Shane does a double take at all the bling. It makes me wonder about her. She does hair for some very powerful Hollywood people, yet she seems intimidated by the formality of the event. *****. You werent kidding when you said black tie.

Yeah. This reminds me of when I was a kid.

You were rich?

No, dirt poor. My mom didnt speak much English. The only work she got for a long time was as a maid.

Wow. What does she do for a living now?”

“She’s a fashion designer.”

“Cool.”

“Yeah, she’s really cool.”

I look around the room and see my ER homies sitting at a table near the front. I wave, and pull Shane along with me. I feel an absurd pride to be holding her hand in public.

They stare at us and I know we’re two very attractive women. I’m used to being one of the boys, but I suppose this dress prohibits that.

Hey guys.

God *damn* woman, you look fine, Darrell says. He looks model-gorgeous, in his charcoal suit, and if I were straight Id be on him like white on rice.

Thank you.”

“And who is this lovely lady you’re with?”

“This is Shane McCutcheon. Shane, Darrell Sanders, Bob Preston, and Ravi Gurijala.

Hey, she says boyishly, shaking all three hands. They stare at her, obviously intrigued.

We saved you seats,” Ravi says. “Best ones in the house. That way you dont have to be turned around crinking your necks all night. Indeed, our seats are facing the front.

Crinking, Ravi? I laugh.

Hey, my English is not good.

I chuckle. “You’re cute, Rav. So, these are the ***** I work with, I explain to Shane.

Cool.

Thats our Darah, Bob says. Always classing up the joint.

Yeah, bite me, Bobby. We sit down and I put my clutch on the table.

So are you guys nurses too? Shane asks.

Were all doctors, Darrell lies. Very rich.

Dont mind him, I say. Hes just trying to hit on you.

Thats okay, she grins, making me feel sort of tingly. Its nice to be appreciated by the opposite *****. Strange, but nice. But I know hes no doctor.

Darrell laughs, delighted. You got yourself a pistol, Salameh.