“I’ll take the young one,” Heather said.
“I’ll take Michael,” Sarah said.
“Michael’s ten thousand miles away.”
“Then I’ll take the young one,” Sarah said, and both women giggled like schoolgirls.
“Actually, the one with the white hair is better looking,” Heather said, looking over toward where the men were being seated at the other end of the curved terrace.
“Gray hair,” Sarah said.
“Looks white to me. Handsome as sin.”
“How’s the curried goat?” Sarah asked.
“Much better than the shrimp fricassee I had the other night,” Heather said, and glanced again toward where the men were now ordering drinks. “Do you think the white-haired one would like to fricassee me? I sure would like to fricassee him.”
“Gray-haired,” Sarah corrected again.
“The young one has big ears,” Heather said.
“The better to hear you,” Sarah said, lowering her voice and raising her eyebrows in warning.
“Clark Gable had big ears, you know. He was famous for his big ears,” Heather said. “Did you know that men with big ears are supposed to have big dicks, too?”
Sarah almost choked on her fish.
“That’s the truth,” Heather said.
“Anyway, it’s noses,” Sarah whispered.
“What is?”
“If you have a big nose, you’re supposed to have a big penis.”
“Did Pinocchio have a big penis?”
“Did Dumbo?” Sarah asked, and both women burst out laughing again.
“They’ll throw us out of here,” Heather said, covering her mouth with her napkin, trying to stifle the laughter.
“I wouldn’t blame them,” Sarah said.
“I think I’ll go ask him to dance.”
“I don’t think that’s such a good idea,” Sarah said.
“Why not? My last night here? Kiss me my sweet, for tomorrow I die.”
“No one else is dancing.”
“Break the ice, what the hell.”
“Your goat’ll get cold.”
“Better my goat than something else,” Heather said, and grinned mischievously. “Why is it that whenever I feel like dancing, the goddamn band is playing something Latin?”
Actually, it seemed to Sarah that the piano player was still playing Cole Porter. Something from Kiss Me, Kate, in fact. Something that sounded very much like “So in Love with You Am I,” but maybe the beat was Latin, it was difficult to tell. She looked at her watch. If they got out of here by nine thirty, ten, she could call Michael by...
“Taxi waiting?” Heather asked.
“No, no. Sorry, I didn’t...”
“Am I boring you, sis?” Heather said.
“Of course not. I promised to call Michael again, that’s all.”
“But do I bore you? Tell me the truth, Sarah. I’m your sister, do you find me boring?”
“No, I find you very interesting, in fact.”
“But am I a boring person, Sarah? Tell me. Please.”
“No, you’re a fascinating person.”
“Then why did Doug find me boring?”
“I never got the impression he did.”
“Then why’d he start up with a nineteen-year-old twit?”
“I have no idea.”
“What do nineteen-year-olds talk about, anyway? Their trips to the record shop in the mall? Who do you think is more boring, Michael or Douglas?”
“I don’t think either one of them is boring.”
“I think Michael is boring.”
“Don’t let him hear you say that.”
“And put on my top when he gets here, I know, I know.”
“You’ll be gone when he gets here,” Sarah said. “If he gets here.”
“Don’t you find him boring?”
“No, I find him very interesting.”
“Don’t you find him too... lawyerly? I find lawyers very boring, Sarah. I’m sorry, but that’s the truth. Lawyers are very boring. At least advertising isn’t boring. I think Michael is attractive, but very boring. Is he any good in bed?”
“Yes, he’s very good.”
“I don’t see how he can be. A boring person like that.”
“Well...”
“Really, sis. How can a boring person like Michael be any good in bed? At least Douglas isn’t boring. Wasn’t.”
“Well...”
“You don’t like me talking this way, do you?”
“Well, no, I don’t.”
“Have you ever noticed that if we put our husbands together, we get Michael Douglas?”
“What?”
“Michael and Douglas. Put them together you get a handsome movie star who’s definitely not boring, that’s for sure. Do you remember him with his pants down in Fatal Attraction? Tripping all over the room with what’s her name? Meryl Streep. Have you ever made passionate love like that with Michael? Where you can’t wait to take off your clothes?”
“That’s none of your business.”
“You just answered the question, sis.”
“No, I didn’t. It’s simply none of your business, what Michael and I do together.”
“Glenn Close, it was,” Heather said.
In fact, Sarah thought, when I get back to the house tonight, Michael and I are going to have a glorious phone phuck, how about that, sis?
“Why doesn’t that guy play something slow and romantic?” Heather said. “I want to go dance with Whitey. See if I can talk him into a little fricassee or two. Curried goat makes a person horny, did you know that?”
“Stop it, he’s looking this way,” Sarah whispered.
“Whitey?”
“No, the young one.”
“Those are the two from the beach today,” Andrew said.
“Which one had her top off?” Willie asked.
“The one in pink, I think.”
“The other one’s better looking,” Willie said.
Andrew was thinking that women sometimes looked better when they were dressed to kill than when they were naked or even half-naked. The one who’d been topless on the beach this afternoon, for example, was now wearing a short pink sort of T-shirt dress with a gold belt and gold high-heeled sandals, no bra under the dress, and somehow this was sexier than her sitting there in just her bikini bottom this afternoon, he didn’t know why.
“You think they’re twins?” Willie asked.
“No, the one in white looks older,” Andrew said.
“What do you think? Thirty, thirty-five?”
“In there.”
“Good-looking women, though. Both of them.”
“Mm,” Andrew said, and looked over at them again.
The one in white was definitely the older sister. Flaring white pleated skirt, white scoop-neck top, gold chain and pendant, white high-heeled sandals, all tan and white and golden. The sister was younger and fresher looking, but there was something more sophisticated about the one in white, the way she lifted her wine glass, the way she tilted her head at just the right angle. Sexier somehow. Given his choice, he’d take the one in white, too.