This is a VERY long chapter, but I think you'll have fun shopping with Colt and the ladies-it's a Pretty Woman moment that Wyatt will never forget. And there's a new character along for the fun who'll give you a few giggles, too. Let's shop 'til we drop!

So, have you always wondered what those big celebrity parties are really like?

Sorry. My parties are nothing like that. Because if I invited you, you're probably not into the celebrity game. You leave your "yes men" at the crib and come out dressed 'way down. I mean wearing stuff that would make your "stylist" commit hara kiri, probably.

But it did have that "MTV Music Awards" sort of vibe at first, I admit. Wyatt hung on extra tight when we got out of the elevator, because we had to fight our way through the crowds of tourists who'd been let in to shop and got all hot and bothered that we were actually in the house.

And there were a few celebs I didn't actually know personally hanging around trying to get a few prime photo ops. That's okay, though. Like I said, it's part of the game. I'm not mad at 'em. You fight your way into the spotlight, you need to make the most of the little time it shines on you.

Speaking of which, right when we were really in the thick of it, I lunged out and grabbed this rapper dude named J Weezee we'd known back home and got him behind the security wedge. And he starts doing that "I'm not worthy" bow and going, "Playa, playa, playa! Break me off just one, man!"

"I'm tryin'a save your life and you're thinkin' about tail," I said.

"Aw, come on, pimpin! You don't need all of 'em! I mean, there's only so much even you can do at one time, young blood!"

I have to admit, I was surrounded by some serious hotness. Not just the girls, but Celie, Amelie, Wyatt, Che, "an embarrassment of bitches," is how some guy wrote it one time. I wasn't happy about the "bitches" thing, but it was funny enough that the girls didn't mind so much.

I said, "You didn't come over here alone either, son. Don't even try to front."

He laughed and said, "Bitches out spennin' my money jus' like these ones here gon' spen' yours. Only you done messed up the game forever, playa. Anything you buy a bitch, she gon' gi' you that attitude, talkin' 'bout, 'Where my casino at?'"

That got a big laugh from everybody including all the big guards. But I said, "Tell 'em they want one like theirs, they'll have to pay for it like they did, too."

"You tryin'a get a brutha killed," he said.

And then Aisha came up and got hold of his arm and said, "Bitches been tryin'a kill you long befo' this!"

That got a good laugh, too. Even before she reached over and rubbed his almost bald head. The girls knew him from his former life, when he was the worst pimp in the history of pimps. He started real young, but that's not why.

His girls just used to run all over his silly ass. He liked tough girls, hood girls. Girls who didn't take no mess. And that meant they wouldn't listen to him, either. Because Weezee loved women. You can't love women and be a good pimp. Not really love them, I mean.

You can be a connoisseur, you know? You can be into them like some people like fine wine or good cigars, maybe, but even that's dangerous for a pimp. Cause you can't say or do the things a good one does if you're that far into it.

His girls, the ones that had been in the game before, they were always taking a lil sum off the top before they handed over their earnings. A few of 'em did some work on the side without him knowing it. Everybody else knew, of course.

And it got so he couldn't keep a girl ten minutes, it seemed like. They'd come to him to get some rainy day money, and then find a real pimp who knew how to run his game right. So he had to find a new game of his own after a while. Best thing that ever happened to him, losing all those girls.

He had always been a popular dj, first for school dances and then a lot of the gangs would have him come out to their big barbecues and whatnot. Some weekends, he would set up his table in the parking lot of this head shop on 4th Ave. and just kill for hours.

College kids, hippies, hipsters, all the young folks out walking around there would be over there dancing their asses off. He got gigs in the clubs, but it was those street sets he was famous for.

And one day somebody discovered him almost the same way that agent discovered me. This famous band was out clubbing and stopped their sedan to check out the sounds. Next thing we knew, he was on tour with them doing the tunes they played between acts first, and then he became the opening act, because of how he got the crowd up dancing in the aisles all the time.

Me myself, I owed him big props for teaching me how to use a DAW (digital audio workstation) to make mixes and even my own music. I'd done a few for the party to add into the Mixcloud playlist we'd be jamming out to at the "Freak Bowl" bowling party later.

Cause as you know, I don't like most of the music that's out there right now. The rock is particularly weak. It's either too pretentious and you can't figure out what the hell they're trying to do or it's a throwback to something the players don't even really feel. You know, those ones that really studied rockabilly or something, and can sound like that but don't come from where rockabilly came from even a little bit.

Music for young folks is supposed to be about wherever young folks are at at the time. But now it's a corporate racket the real deal can't break into like they used do. They've lost a lot of money over the past few years, so they're looking for sure things-foolproof music.

If you're a real musician, you have to come at it sideways now. Get in wherever you fit in. YouTube, Soundcloud, Blend, there are all kinds of places you can upload to. Whole communities of people who like the kind of music you do.

I spent months in my media room with Aisha mixing and matching and having her sing and the girls say things over tracks I'd done. That's how we realized she was as good as we had always believed she was. We'd put something up on our sites and people would download the thing by the millions. My own tracks did pretty good, but the ones with her on them were by far the big "sellers."

So yeah, he was family to us. Big Man got hold of him by the shoulders from behind like he was a little brother or something, too.

"You got it to spend," he told Weezee. "I been seein' you on TV at them awards shows'n' whatnot."

"I ain't got it like some people I know," Weezee said. "Up there at the top o' that Forbes list. How you gon' upstage a brutha like that?"

They veered us into the first shop before I could even see which one it was. Didn't matter. The girls had mapped out the route and Che had called ahead to lock it all down. I was just there to sign checks and whatnot.

They brought the metal gate thing down once we got in there, though. I think they had told the shoppers that was going to happen in advance. If you just had to leave, you'd have to do go through the employee doors in back.

But of course, nobody wanted to leave. Especially the men, who lined up to watch the girls strut by. It was hilarious seeing all these young guys holding those big ass drink containers almost as tall as they were, just yelling and fist pumping themselves red in the face.

They come to Vegas to do that, though. Ogle women, yell, drink, stuff down buffet food 'til they've got shrimp and lobster coming out of their ears, and just generally act like damned fools so they can find a girl who's down with acting a damned fool and take her up to the room. And then they wake up feeling like somebody beat hell out of them the next morning. And they go out and do it again, too, right? Big fun.

So my girls gave them what they came for, plus a little more bounce to the ounce. They even stopped for selfies and to let a few of the guys who asked them nicely-or what passes for nicely in a situation like that-kiss them on the cheek or get an autograph.

Goes without saying there was no mouth kissing, with all the crazy shit you can catch these days. And the guards got hold of all the straying hands, too. Right quick. I'd see some dude wince or fall backwards suddenly and I knew he'd tried to touch the merch.

But they were cool for the most part, the guys. Cracked me up how Mike got all the metal head types. Dudes with mullets and that Rod Stewart haystack do who finally made it out of Indiana or someplace else sort of stuck in the 70s and 80s and out to be what we call "loud, wrong and proud."

I kind of like those guys, though. Especially the "wrong" part. They are who they are. I think they even know that nobody wears clothes or haircuts like that anymore. Which is why they do it. They don't want to be fashionable or any of that. I know some of 'em would tell you that was for "fags" or something. That's the other half of "wrong" that gets on my nerves a little. Well, a lot.

But I feel like I could hang with them better than the guys who come all suave-or try to. Their necks are just a little less red than my people's, and unlike my people, they generally have jobs. Tough jobs that beat them down young.

They're also the ones that go into the military a lot. I respect that, even if it's sort of the way the government expects things to go. But they know that, too. That they're cannon fodder. That the world thinks they were born to do the dirty work.

Only, you know how "nigga" became a term of endearment for some Black folks? Those guys, the "wrong" guys, their hard lives are a badge of honor to them. Other people can say what they want, but those guys, they have real love for where they come from and who they are.

You're not gonna hear them asking what it's all about or talking about how unfulfilled they are or anything-not in a whiny way. And only maybe after they've had a whole lot of beer and start doing that weepy, "I love you, man," thing some guys get into when they're high.

But mostly, they're always like they were with Mike. Big noisy boys throwing "Metal" fingers and yelling super sexist shit that most men wouldn't dare say out loud. Like, "Show us your tits," was 'way up there on the tasteless end of the meter.

But Mike flipped that little shirt up and let 'em have it full on. And the noises they made after that I can't even describe. Except that I felt like a few of them were going to have to go upstairs and put on dry underwear. Yep, crude, rude dudes that make me want to laugh and beat the shit out of 'em at the same time somehow. Wise 'em up while I'm secretly hoping they never change.

See, this is what I mean about me. I'm as crazy as they are. Maybe worse. I can always find something to like about somebody-I take it too far sometimes, I know. But they were just so crazy happy to see us, you know? And to just be alive and young and in Vegas and all. What's not to like about that?

As the girls were working the crowd, Amelie looked at me and said, "My God, what gear did they shift into?"

"It's natural to them," I told her. "Even back in the clubs, when they were up there on that pole, guys would go nuts like that."

"I'm fascinated," she said. And she really was. But not in a stuffy, scholarly way. Her eyes were shining. She was into it.

She looked at Hugh and said, "You get to do this all the time, don't you?"

"As often as possible, yes," he said. He had hold of her arm nice and firm, too. Because the guys were noticing her and Celie and Wyatt once they got past the girls. And they acted different when they saw them. Their faces changed.

These weren't wet dream girls. Or not in the same way. These ones were the ones you didn't meet in Vegas. Couldn't have even if you did. Even if you popped a hundred corks in the club, they weren't coming to your table. And for damned sure, you weren't going to get them up to your room. Ever.

So they looked at the women, then at the men with the women, and there was this interesting silent conversation between us guys and those guys. First, they gave us-me-the "Oh, you think you're better than me, punk?" looks. Then the sort of confused, "Wow. That's like...a whole 'nother species right there," looks after they'd taken a good look at the women we were with.

And they worked that around in their brains for a coupla seconds and realizes they weren't sure they could handle the "care and feeding" of this new species. Which led to the "Damn. Well, more power, brutha," smile of surrender that sometimes comes with an actual salute. I always salute back. It just seems like the brotherly thing to do.

I was getting a kick out of those ones, too, when a couple of girls sort of launched themselves almost over the guards. One of them managed to sort of kiss me on the forehead and the other one threw her bra at me just as the guards yanked them up off their feet and into the crowd like they were little rag dolls.

Yes, her bra-coulda been worse. They lob thongs sometimes and you know where they've been all day. Yeah, no shit. Or...okay, let's not go there. But Big Man caught it as it sailed toward my head, and held it up like an award belt at a prize fight.

Wyatt gaped a little bit and said, "Tell me I'm dreaming."

"Honey, this is Vegas," Celie told her. She'd been grinning the whole time. I think it was all still sort of new to her, even with all the hype after her Oscar. Big Man had hold of her arm. And boy, she did a strut of her own when he grabbed her-remember, he's a super good looking man. I didn't see her and him together really, but they looked good next to each other. Gave me something to think about. The girls and I love trying to play match maker like that.

Once we were safe in this area they'd set aside for us in back, the girls fanned out after whatever it was they were looking for at this store. One of them grabbed Wyatt right off my arm and ran with her. And Weezee said, "That's you?"

"Workin' on it," I told him.

"Son, when you gon' get yourself a lil tenderoni to play wit?"

"Don't start."

"Yeah, I'm gon' start," he said. "She good lookin', I ain't gon' lie. But those nice titties gon' be saggin' down to her knees pretty soon, son! And then what?"

"What's it to you, anyway?" I asked him. And he followed me over to this counter full of earrings and whatnot sort of laughing. Big Man and Hugh didn't say a word. I could feel them laughing behind those poker faces, too, though.

"You mad now?" Weezee asked.

"Naw, I'm not mad. You can't say nothin' I haven't heard before."

"We just lookin' out for you, pimpin. You ain't but a minute old, son. These old men be chasin' after girls yo' age and you don't even see nobody under 30."

"And you know what? They're welcome to all the little tenderonies they can eat," I told him. "Cause I have no use for all that drama. These look sort of like her, don't they?"

I held up a pair of earrings that reminded me of the ethnic, boho stuff she liked to wear. Only they weren't all that expensive and I wanted to get her something she couldn't just buy for herself.

The clerk burnt rubber getting over there as soon as I grabbed them, with a grin that took up half her face it looked like. She was an older woman all dolled up with 'way too much blush and hair so "done" it looked like a wig. But there was something about her that I liked, even so. And it wasn't just because she was an older woman, either.

So I said, "You know the one with the real long hair? Blond?"

And she said, "Perfect," and winked at me.

So I said, "What I want you to do is just pile up a whole buncha stuff you think she'd be into. Cool?"

"Oh, very cool," she said. "And while I'm doing that, please come sit."

She and a couple of other clerks walked us to these comfy chairs they probably put out for the big spenders who brought women in there to spend all the money they won or make them feel better about all the money they lost.

There was a glass topped table in the middle with champagne and all kinds of little eats on it, too. Hugh poured for us and one of the clerks took one of the trays and sort of bunny dipped her way around us like we were at some club or something-Playboy bunny style, I mean. Where they bend their knees to get lower down instead of bending over and showing off too much chest.

JJ taught me about "bunny dipping." I'm not old enough to even know about the Playboy bunnies. He hung out with Hef sometimes. Didn't like him much, but they were pretty well acquainted and sometimes JJ got invited to big parties at his place and all that.

Anyway, I took a few things just to be polite and so did everyone else. Weezee bit into something he took and made a face that cracked the rest of us up.

"Taste like dirt!" he told us.

"Truffle paste," Big Man said.

"Wha'chu know about some truffle paste, nigga?" Weezee teased him.

"Know better than to put it in my mouth, that's what I know," Big Man said.

Which of course got us laughing again. And then Hugh handed each of us a glass and raised his, "To the ladies, yes?"

"I heard that," Weezee said. And then he looked at me and said, "You heard me?"

"I heard you. I'm just not listenin' to you."

He gave me a little shove and looked at the girls out there in the aisles. And Joie running after Cat with this sequined...thing she'd found. I wasn't sure what it was.

"That one there scare the shit outta me, too," Weezee said. "A man's got to think too hard to hang with y'all. She could be he and he could be she."

"And all of 'em beautiful," I told him.

"Yeah, you a equal opportunity pimp," he said.

He was just teasing me, though. And the woman I'd sent looking for cool stuff came over with a tray full of little boxes she'd put them in. Weezee slapped me on the back and picked up a fancy little box that turned out to have a Betsey Johnson watch in it.

"I like this-get me one o' these, too," he told her.

"Who's that for?" I asked.

"Whoever I wanna give it to."

But then he gave me a less comical smile and said, "Carol, prolly. You heard, right?"

"Heard what?"

He sort of waved it off and held up the box for a clerk to take.

"Where've they gone?" Hugh asked.

"This is the fun part," I told him. "Drink up. The show's about to begin."

"He ain't done this before?" Weezee asked me.

"Nah, he doesn't bring his women around us all that much, most of the time. So this one's serious," I said. And then I asked, "What's this I should've heard about?"

Weezee smirked a little bit. And then he shrugged and said, "Hard times, pardner. Los' one about six months ago. Me'n' mine."

"Wait-what?"

He sighed and reached for a pair of earrings.

"Hurt like a bitch, man," he said. "You don't think about it 'til it happens to you, you know?"

"A kid, you lost?"

He got up so he could look through some more boxes but I'd forgotten about them. And the other guys were sort of all focused on him, too.

"Baby girl come here wit all kinda things missin' and messed up," he said. "'member how yours was born sick like they was? Now I know what you was goin' through, up there in that hospital watchin' 'em like a hawk. Only our lil girl, she couldn' fight back."

"Wow..." was all I could manage at first. And then I said, "Man, I would've lost my mind behind that. You cool? You doin' okay?"

He stuck his hands 'way down in his pockets-I don't know how he even got to his pockets, his jeans were down so low. But he shrugged up his shoulders real high and then let them drop.

"Carol...she don't even talk no mo'," he told me. "She my bottom bitch, too, yo'. All them others, they know what's up. They ain't never gon' have what we got. But right now it seem like she gone into her own lil world, man. I cain't get 'er outta the house. And all she do is set up there lookin' like she don't even know nobody in the house wit 'er."

"Didn't she do this once before? I mean, she miscarried or something, right?" Big Man asked.

"That's it right there," he said. "They tell you it's normal, you know? Woman can lose one and then the next one's fine. But she know none o' them other bitches never had no kinda trouble. And here she the main one and can't get one here safe. I'ma make sure we wait a good long time, you know? It ain't like I need no more children."

I had to laugh then. He had more than enough kids. He started having kids back when he started trying to be a pimp.

"How many altogether, man?" I asked him.

"I los' count a looooong time ago."

"I bet your accountant has a list a mile long," I said.

And he shoved me and said, "Shut up foo'! Anyway, some o' them bitches be screwin' around so much they scared to come at me wit they hands out. My lawyer'll drag them dirty draws right out in public if you mess wit me. I think he jus' go out and grab the crustiest muthas he can fine out on the street'n' bring 'em into court talkin' about they was wit 'er the other day, jus' to embarrass the hell out of 'em."

That bent me over double, laughing. And when I recovered he hugged me and said, "You my boy, you know that? I 'member first time I seen yo' lil pretty ass out there wit all my girls all crowded aroun' you tryin'a act like they yo' mamas and stuff. I said, 'Who this lil pretty nigga ain't hardly walkin' and talkin' yet an' got all these women runnin' after his lil crazy ass?'"

That bent me over again. And took me back, too. His girls really did used to hug on me and stuff whenever I was around. All the ladies on the tracks used to tease me all the time. There was this one used to say, "Tell all them other lil baby bitches I'm gon' be first."

She wasn't my first, but she seemed serious about it, though. And I would've done it, believe me. Just to be able to brag about losing it to a hooker, you know? I was stupid like that back then. As if I've grown up so much, right? I'm still just a stupid kid. I know that.

I let Weezee take his pick after he told us that. And I set aside some things for Wyatt and for the girls, too. And teased Hugh that he had to wait 'til we went to Tiffany. For that ring I'd been talking about.

"She hates diamonds," he told me. "In fact, she's not fond of jewelry of any kind. The bangles were gifts from the women in some tribe she photographed in North Africa. That's the only thing she ever wears."

And Weezee said, "Where you fine one like that at? I needs to go there."

I was reaching for a glass of champagne when Big Man said, "Aw shucks," in his teasing voice that told me somebody had come out of the dressing room looking good.

It was Celie, still grinning and wearing this sparkly evening dress that showed us every curve and that she wasn't wearing bra or thong under it because she couldn't have. It was like liquid diamonds or something-like they poured it on her. It wasn't all low cut or anything-it had one of those straight across necklines and long sleeves. But the body was the point. It didn't need to be showing off a whole lot of skin.

She did a runway walk that I knew Joie had coached her to do and turned. And winked. And said, "Don't worry. I'm just playin'."

"Play some more, I may pick up the tab, girl," Weezee told her.

"They give her stuff, prob'ly," I told him, as she wriggled her way back into the dressing rooms. "The designers send things over for women like her. Oscar winners and whatnot."

"Yours, too."

"Yeah, they do. But we don't accept them as a rule."

"Why come you don't?"

I laughed, and then I said, "Because it's weird taking things for free. We're not the ones who should be getting free stuff."

"Do not argue with him," Hugh told Weezee. "You'll be wasting your breath. It's noble, of course, but it has upset people. They want to show him their best work, and he sends it back."

"It don't always make it back," Che said, arriving to sit with us guys.

"I heard about that," I told her.

"Well, hell, for those of us who don't have it like that, I mean, let's be real, okay?"

I tossed her one of the boxes and said, "Have it like that, then. Looks like you."

She opened the box and this big grin spread across her face as she said, "Thank you, Daddy..." and took the bracelet out.

"Need a dress to go with it," Big Man said.

"I got my ensemble," she said.

"For free?" Weezee asked her.

"I'm not tellin'," she said, giving me a little wink. "I like my job."

I didn't care if they kept things. In fact, I was glad they did. I gave them a lot of stuff, but if they saw something they really wanted, why not?

Weezee made a sound I can't even try to explain then, and I looked up and saw Aisha coming at us in this dress that...wasn't a dress. I mean, it was a dress, but most of it was this totally transparent fabric of some kind, with little patches of embroidered flowers and things in strategic places. So she was mostly nekked, even with her hair slung over one shoulder to cover up one boob.

"Heavenly father," Big Man said.

And Hugh said, "Amen."

Aisha just said, "Beyoncé had one jus' like it."

"Beyoncé ain't got nothin' like that," Weezee told her. "Man, tell 'er to get on away from me 'fore I skeets all over this room."

"Ooooo, you so nasty," Aisha told him. But she had one of those little smiles on her face like women do when they're also sort of flattered even when they're telling you what a jerk you are.

And then she walked right up to me and did her little pivot, and looked back over one shoulder to give me a smile and a wink on her way back.

"Santa sho' loves you, don't 'e?" Weezee said.

"I don't think Santa carries that brand," Hugh said.

Big Man chuckled and said, "Never gets old."

"It most assuredly does not," Hugh agreed. "And how is Wyatt coping?"

"What do you mean?"

"With the girls. And how are they coping?" he said. "You've never been quite so intensely involved before. They seem to be dealing with it, but I do wonder."

"You seen Aisha look at 'im," Weezee said. "She ain't goin' down wit'out a fight, yo."

"You know Aisha's always buggin' about me starting to go on dates like a boy my age," I told him.

"Until you do it," he said. "And then she be talkin' a whole lotta 'ish about whoever she is."

"She likes Wyatt," I said.

"Aw, playa, come on now! You seen what just walked out here, didn't you?" Weezee said. "She a good lookin' girl, Miss Wyatt. I'm not gon' front. But-okay, right on time! I want you to look at this one just come out-get a good look. And think about it."

He was talking about Cat who had come out in this sick gold dress that was slit so far up the right side she would have to wear a G-string, if that, underneath. And she was serving that hour glass thing for days-I forget sometimes how that woman's put together. Until I see her in something like that and I just want to buy God a round of drinks or something, for taking his time on her.

Mike was right behind her. She looked like a rich dominatrix stomping the "runway" in a black leather bustier jumpsuit and heels that scared me they were so high and skinny. It had this long matching coat with a stand up collar, cinched waist and real big "skirt." And with the white hair and real red lips-what can I say? She's no Cinderella, my Mike. She does her own thing. To death.

And as if to put Weezee in his place, she came up and slid her arm around Cat's. Not like she was claiming her or anything, just...well, Cat was her woman in a way. And she was always proud of how scorching hot Cat was.

So I looked at Weezee and said, "I can look..."

"Aw, you hit that, foo'. You ain't foolin' nobody. 's why you wun out there hittin' nothin' else! Have to be crazy to mess up a good thang like you got."

I was going to answer that when I saw Hugh's smile get even bigger. He was grinning at Wyatt, who had just come sort of billowing out of the dressing room in this dress made out of some kind of real thing material fabric that flew open in the front and showed off those nice legs.

She looked like some kind of exotic butterfly, coming at us. The fabric had these pale flowers you could hardly see on it, and it was real low cut, actually. So she was probably showing almost as much skin as the others, but because there was so much fabric flying around, it felt more demure.

And it looked like she had on little glass shoes-strappy shoes that were almost invisible. The makeup was almost invisible, too. Her real colors, just a little more intense.

And honest to God, I felt like guys must feel at the wedding when they get that first look at the bride coming down the aisle. I jumped up and ran to give her a kiss and turn her around so I could see the whole thing up close.

And she said, "You will not buy this," with this real determined look on her face.

Didn't spoil it. It just made me laugh because I knew she was going to say something like that. It was an insane dress, but Wyatt was wearing it, right?

But I still said, "Aw, c'mon, you look like an angel."

"I've had the Pretty Woman experience," she said. "And it was great fun. But they've agreed to let me bring it back before we leave. And you will not argue."

"Not even something to go with it? Like-"

"No-thing. I'm absolutely serious. It's lovely, but I cannot allow you to do things like this. I just can't."

I kissed her cheek and said, "You're the boss, beautiful. I'm actually surprised you let it go this far. But man, I am so glad you did. You look incredible. That's your dress, Wyatt. Honest to God."

That made her look a little sad, when I said that. But I kissed her again, and she bucked up for me before she headed back to take it off.

And that's when Joie and Amelie came out and stunned the hell out of us. Joie walked out as her male self, looking like friggin' Brad Pitt or something, in a killer tux that even I would've worn to the right event. I don't know what the difference was exactly because I'm so totally uninformed about that stuff.

But something about the cut and the lapels was hipper and less "tux." I made a mental note to get one just to wear the jacket around, with jeans, when we had to go to the MTV things or the hipper events, you know? If I could get past Joie insisting I wear something from my own line. I could maybe have something similar made for my own line-that was another mental note.

I wasn't sure I could carry it off like squirrel friend, though. We've always known he was really the hottest guy in our little group. But Weezee and the clerks were speechless. They kept looking at each other and then at us and then at each other trying to figure out where this hella handsome dude came from.

Weezee even said, "That ain't her," trying not to believe his eyes.

But Joie stuck his hands in his pockets and sort of rocked over on one hip and held that like a male model would at the end of the runway and gave Weezee a good look.

And then Amelie came rushing out with her camera, still wearing what she came in, by the way. And Hugh laughed the most as she ran out of in front of Joie like a mad paparazzi and shooting red carpet pictures as fast as her camera would go.

I said, "Long time no see," to Joie.

And s/he stuck out a stiff hand and said, "Ryan Chandler. Happy to make your acquaintance," in his "real" voice, too. And my girls started screaming like little fan girls and rushed up and draped themselves all over him.

Hugh came to hug Amelie once she got out of character. He looked kind of proud of her. I could tell they'd made some kind of agreement beforehand. And when I asked her about that, she said, "I just...it's where I was before I came..." but wouldn't elaborate. Just smiled and shrugged and said, "I'm still there, I think."

"She wanna ax you somethin' about Nick," Aisha said, arriving as herself, then, just still wearing the makeup Joie had put on her.

But Amelie didn't want to go there, either.

She said, "Oh, this is neither the time nor the place for that, but thank you my love."

And she looked sort of sorry she'd said anything at all then. So I said, "Don't be like that. It's gotta be messing with your mind a little, going from there to this. I totally feel you."

"No, please-you deserve to enjoy yourself," Amelie said. "I'm a big fan."

"She is actually," Hugh said. "I think she likes me because I work for you."

"So ax," I said, winking at Aisha just to keep it light.

And Amelie looked around at everyone, shrugged and said, "He's got connections in high places, your Nick. Correct? I mean with government officials and...heads of state?"

"And the people who really run things, yeah," I said. "Those are the ones he goes to."

"Well, a great deal of the aid sent to Haiti and so many other places never gets to the people who need it," she said. "It either sits at the airport because there's no real plan to distribute or it's...appropriated by the military or...well...whoever's holding the reins. And America gets into these ridiculous stalemate situations, or the president does, trying not to ruffle any feathers or being accused of bullying or...trying to be holier than thou. But your Nick could negotiate freely, couldn't he? With the people who really run things..."

I nodded and said, "Any particular places?"

"Well, Haiti, as I mentioned. It's a particularly tough nut. And then we could just...find out where he feels he could be most effective."

Ryan/Joie said, "A noble proposition, Mr. James." And we all did these double takes because we weren't used to hearing that voice. And then we laughed because of that. Joie knew we would. S/he had said it to bring us back to New Year's Eve and my party and the "joie" of life.

And Amelie said, "We need both bread and circuses. So please, don't think-"

"I don't think anything," I said. "Except that it's a great idea. And Nick will probably like it, too. He's mellowed since he got old. Softened up. And who wouldn't wanna go out with something like that for people to remember you by? I mean, he should be damned glad to have a chance to revise his rep."

Amelie hugged me and said, "You are the most...extraordinary young man..."

And I could feel and see in her eyes how sincere she was. And also, I could feel that wherever she'd been had been rougher than she was letting on. There was more to the story than Hugh would ever tell us. Stuff she might not have even told him.

So I said, "I'm going to give him a call when we get done with all this frou frou, okay? You can meet with him and talk him through, if he agrees.

"I'm so grateful. And and sorry," she said. "And I do have a lovely dress for the party. You mustn't worry."

"You could come in a friggin' potato sack if you want to," I said. "Remind 'em how it is in those places. Maybe raise a few bucks."

"Please, don't encourage her," Hugh said. And Amelie took hold of his arm.

"I need a party! It will be so good to ring in the New Year with laughter and love and extraordinary people."

Hugh rubbed her back in a way that just proved what I'd said earlier. Something had happened to this woman. But I just gave her a kiss on the cheek and said, "Glad you came," and then to the girls, I said, "Got another one for us. We need to call up Carol Ann'n' see if we can't get 'er to get on the jet tomorrow."

I didn't have to look at Weezee. I could feel him smiling behind my back. But I looked back and winked at him anyway. And he patted his heart with two fingers, and then kissed those fingers and pointed them at me.

I saluted him with two fingers and gave the girls the news about the baby and all. Which only made Wyatt look even more uncomfortable, of course...