19

“What would you like to drink?” he asked.

“A vodka gimlet,” Lida said. That was probably a stupid drink.

“On the rocks? Straight up? How?”

“On the rocks.” She was convinced that she had just compounded her blunder. When the drink came, she downed it like lemonade.

The waitress appeared again.

“Another?” he asked.

“Yes.”

“Wait,” he told the girl. “We’ll buy a round for those young ladies over there.” He gestured past Lida to another table.

Lida swiveled. File clerks, she thought.

“Does that make you uncomfortable?”

“No.” It did.

“Shall we ask them to join us?”

“Join us! No!”

He laughed at her.

“Why would you want them to join us?” She saw him lying naked on an oriental throw, bare-bosomed women ministering. “I really want to know.”

“It’s nothing. I just wondered how you’d react to the suggestion.”

“How did I?”

“With outrage.”

Edith Bunker playing opposite James Mason. Oh, shit.