She smiled at him and then turned to me. “I was hoping to introduce you to Catherine Opie.” She glanced at Max again, raised her eyebrows-”Will you excuse us?”

I let her pull me away, glad my glass was empty or else there would have been a lot of sloshing. After a considerable distance, she stopped and turned to look at me. She squinted, shaking her head. “Alice, what is this? What are you doing?”

“Uh…” I discarded my empty glass on a moving tray. “Er… admiring art?”

She cocked her head to the side, studying me. “Are you drunk?”

“No,” I said hesitantly, although I hadn’t really thought about the vodka shots and the two glasses of wine. Maybe I was a little buzzed, but it wasn’t like I was going to tell her.

She sighed. “Alice. If you think flirting with Max Bauer is going to make me jealous-”

“Bette!” I cried, indignant that she had figured it out so easily. How does she do that? “You need to get over yourself.”

Bette frowned.

“I-I mean-” Distracted, I straightened her tie for her. “You’ve made it pretty clear that you and I are finished. So, there’s the slight chance that, you know, I felt like flirting with Max Bauer because I like him.”

She crossed her arms. “You do?”

Sure, he’s okay. “Yeah!”

Bette shrugged, looking around the gallery as if she had an entire audience that was waiting on her reaction, even though it was just me. “So that’s how it is, huh?” she asked me.

“How what is?”

“Everything’s okay with us?”

I paused momentarily, uncertain of how she had come to that conclusion from the current events that had transpired.

“I mean,” she went on, “if you feel comfortable enough to flirt with Max while you’re my date, then we’re really okay? I don’t have to walk on eggshells around you?”

Well, *****, if she was just gonna be all lame for my benefit… I shrugged.

“Then you’re okay?” she asked one more time.

“I’m fine,” I lied. And wished it wasn’t a lie.

Bette smiled. It knocked the air out of my lungs. She needs to warn people before she does that. “Okay,” she said softly. She took my hand. “I want you to meet Catherine Opie.”

I followed her, sort of eager to meet one of the main perpetrators involved in Bette’s never having any time for me. We passed by a very good-looking couple conversing with another one of the artists and I took a moment to check the guy out.

Bette rolled her eyes when she saw what I was doing. “Am I going to have to deal with you dating only guys after you’ve dated me?” she asked as we walked past. “I don’t think my reputation could take it.”

“What?” I said defensively. “He’s cute.”

“That’s Eric Murrell,” she explained. “He’s quite the obsessive art collector. And I’m pretty sure he’s taken.”

Ah. That explained the hot blonde he was holding hands with.