If you've ever had characters "mutiny" and march off in a new direction you hadn't thought of before-most writers have-you'll know how I felt when this latest very long chapter took me to a place I wasn't sure I wanted to go. But when Amelie started to tell her story, I decided to let her, even if it winds up being cut or changed in the final draft. She's a remarkable woman! And WHAT a party!

Come DANCE with us!

Okay, here's what little I accurately remember about Freak Bowl. I say that because I got really high for the first time in, like, years, that night. On champagne, mostly, but later on Weezee hit me with this giant blunt full of atomic bud that dentists should use instead of that laughing gas stuff they give you, swear to God.

But it was an epic night. God, it was beautiful. I don't know if I can even begin to take you there, because aside from what my crew was doing, there was mad stuff just jumping off all over the place and nobody could've kept up with all of it.

But let's start all the way from when we were getting ready. Just because that I can do without sounding like I'm on crack or something.

First, we ran to our apartments to drop off all the stuff we'd bought. It wasn't that big a haul this time, because we didn't have time to really go nuts. Only thing that mattered was we'd spent  was enough to make those clerks enough commission to go on a cruise or something, I bet.

So we just threw all the bags and boxes and whatnot down and ran to get into some comfy clothes. I mean, jeans, t-shirts, ultra-casual. Except the girls had had these little midriff-baring bowling shirts made to fit them real nice.

They had "Fun House Girlz" on the back, too. We'd be selling them once we opened. Ones for men, too—not cropped like the women's version, though. And only the initials on the back. What guy wants to walk around with "Fun House Girlz" on his shirt? Though you never know...

Wyatt looked 'way happier in jeans. She also washed off all the war paint, too, even though it had seemed pretty natural to me. And when I came in the bathroom to comb my hair, she walked up behind me and ran a hand up my bare back, kind of like how some cats will touch you to get you to pay attention to them.

I turned and hugged her just because I'm always glad to see her. It's a reflex thing. I see her, I want to lay hands on her. No matter what else is going on between us.

And she looked up at me with these big, warm eyes and said, "So, on what should have been one of the best days of your life, I chose to be a total buzz kill. Discuss."

"What's this jive you're talking now?"

She laughed and sort of slapped her hands on my chest like she was trying to shut me up or wake me up or something.

"The dress," she said. "The attitude. You've given me whole worlds on a silver platter, things I would never have experienced otherwise. And all I've done is fight you at every turn."

"Yeah, but it's weird for you," I said. "I know that. When I first started hanging around with JJ I felt like we were living at warp speed. Couldn't catch my breath or think straight. It was just this steady stream of new things coming and going. Like when those waiters snatch away alla plates before you figure out whether you even like what's on 'em or not. Or what they are, even. So you shut down. Or you fight, like you said, if you're strong enough. Just to have some control over your life."

She ran her fingers through my wet hair and said, "And of course, I knew you would say something like that."

"Quit talkin' nonsense," I said. "What time is it? I bet they're freaking out down there."

When I picked up my brush, she took it and turned me around to face the mirror so she could brush the back for me. She had to reach 'way up, though. It was cute watching her get up on her tip toes to get at it, but I bunny dipped down to give her a break.

And I said, "Celie's going through that right now. She wins an Oscar and expects it to be like this magic wand that opens the doors to paradise or something. But it's almost worse now, than it was when she was out there struggling. She can't get a grip. There's all these subplots, you know? Behind the scenes."

She kissed my shoulder and said, "And I'm one, too. For you. The one that undermines everything." And handed the brush back.

"Only when you say stuff like that," I said, catching her up in my arms again.

She ran a finger down my nose and said, "I apologize. That's the point I'm making."

"And the point I'm making is it's not necessary. I think you're doing a lot better than most people would in the same situation."

"Most people will never be in the same situation. Which is also the point I'm making. I do understand what an extraordinary situation I've stumbled into. And how patient you've been thus far, given all of the enormous responsibilities you have to deal with. I don't want to be yet another burden on those big, beautiful shoulders."

"Never thought of shoulders as beautiful before."

"You are beautiful from head to toe," she said. Giving me a poke right between the pecs. "I've had a lot of time to just gaze upon your magnificence today. And it is...magnificent. Totally bra worthy."

I had to laugh. She'd remembered that flying brassiere. But then any woman would, probably.

"What'chall doin' in here?" Aisha asked from the doorway.

"Knock much?" I asked her.

"Lord, Papi, ain't nothin' you could be doin' I ain't seen, seen you do or done witchu myself," she told me. Not...exactly the best time to say it, even if it was true. Given how Wyatt had been feeling that day.

But Wyatt didn't even flinch. She said, "I was asking his forgiveness. And I humbly beseech you, too."

And Aisha looked at me and said, "What she talkin' about now? I don't understan' English teacher English."

I laughed and said, "She thinks she's killing our buzz. Not buying the dress'n' stuff like that."

Aisha gave Wyatt a hug and looked her in the eyes when she said, "Lil Mama, you cain't be walkin' around here scared to do and say what's on your mind. We don't hear what you think, we won't know who you are."

"Damn, I wish I'd said that," I told Aisha.

"Well, that other head you thinkin' wit these days can only hold one thought," she said.

We all had a good laugh about that one. She was kind of right, too. I didn't care what Wyatt did, as long as she let me watch. Mad, sad, glad—whatever. Working through it was a thrill, even. Because I adored the woman I was working it out with.

So I said, "I do try, though."

And Wyatt kissed me where she'd poked me a little while before and said, "And I promise to do likewise. The only gift I can give in return."

"Well, y'all need to get your silly butts outta here," Aisha said, heading for the door. "Cause Carol Ann's here and the crews are ready to roll. They got them big ass lights goin' out front now, too."

"What, Kliegs?" I said. "Goin' all Old School tonight."

We went to the windows in the master bedroom and sure enough, there were two huge Kliegs waving back and forth down there. Even though nobody but invited guests could actually get in. But our PR peeps were on the case. In fact, it's even more enticing to people if they can't get in.

Because we're sick like that, right? People. We want what we can't have. The harder it is to get the more we want it. We also seem to want a lot of things not worth wanting, 'way too much. But this wasn't one of those things. This was something I didn't blame them for getting excited about. And soon, they'd be able to have it all they wanted. Just not quite yet.

So I put on the finishing touches, which included a kinda loose sleeveless black tee because the object of all my private parties is to dance 'til you drop, and black kinda looks cool when you get all sweaty. I know that sounds weird, but you know me.

And then, Yoshi, Kenzo and the "crews" arrived to put little mic things in our hair like actors wear onstage at the theater, so we could communicate with them in the sound and video booth and security and Big Man and all that.

They all had different color hair that day. Neon colors to match these freaky "HAZ MAT" jumpsuit things they had on that looked like they worked in some kind of lab or something. I have never been able to figure out how Asian people do that, because their hair's so black. The girls told me they had to bleach their hair white first, which probably looked even crazier.

But anyway, they had outdone themselves that night. Which was fitting because they were running all the good stuff, as usual. Sound, lights, video, all the media was designed and would be test run with an audience for the first time that night.

So I said to Yoshi, "This is it! Are you sweatin' bullets, man?" He's the head dude over both crews, really. One of the first people we hired back when we started making the transition over to digital media and all that.

I think he's a cyborg or something, Yosh. He doesn't need to eat or sleep, or maybe he just forgets because he's always thinking about all the insane things he sees in his head and wants to make.

He gave me this huge grin and said, "No, I'm very excited." And I'm not going to try to write it like he said it. I can do Aisha and WeeZee and all that kind of street talk—I can do Nick a little bit, too. But accents like Yosh and them have, no way. I mean, it came out like, "I'ma velly egg-site-uhd," you know? You don't really wanna have to wade through a lot of stuff like that, believe me.

My favorite part of that was when he cupped his ear and pointed to me and said, "Say FUCK," to test the sound, and me, the girls and everybody else who'd been mic'd up yelled at the same time. He fell over backwards like we'd shot him and when we all started laughing he started acting like he was having convulsions because that was also going through his earphones.

For us to hear, we had to press this little button when the control box in our pockets buzzed to let us know we were getting a message. That was so we didn't have to hear all the chatter going on all night. All those little details—they all think like that. Buncha geniuses.

Now, Joie and Che begged off because they had to synchronize the next night's New Year's Eve extravaganza. I knew they'd wind up Freak Bowling later, but they really needed some time to make sure things were locked down.

So the rest of us hit the lobby ready to rock and ran right into another mob scene, of course. All the invited guests were there, waiting for the bouncers to finally let down the red ropes. And they were a pretty impressive assortment of people, too.

Che had handled all that, so this was the first time I'd actually realized how many famous people were going to be with us—buncha ballers in the mix, for variety. Some that we knew from their U of A days and some that they knew who were at the top of their game at the time.

And oh, my God, when the big gold doors "magically" opened it was like walking into Disneyland for the first time or something. And right on cue, we heard this New Jack joint that goes, "Don't wake me, I'm dreamin'..." (Mixcloud https://www.mixcloud.com/uptownjoe/new-jack-swing/ )

Which was just how we felt when all the smoke, laser beams, disco balls and colored lights went off in the dark. You should've heard everybody gasp and go nuts when they saw it for the first time. Gave me chills, seeing their eyes light up like that.

It was uber retro, but with a touch of today, too.  J and K Crewe had painted the walls with freaky day glo faces and tags and whatnot. And the bowling balls and pins glowed, too, in colors you will never see in a regular bowling alley. Every lane was a different color scheme, so you could find your way back to your friends real easy no matter how messed up you got.

And the only host type thing I did was stand up on the neon bar with Wyatt and the girls and yell, "Eat, drink and be merry, y'all! The party's on," into the mic one time. And then I fell backwards into the crowd, the music started up again, and it was a madhouse in there from then on.

Me and mine got the red lane that had an anime devil on the screen up above where the pins are. Each lane has a different screen character. Satan laughs at you when you leave a few pins and then stands there tapping his foot like Sonic in the old video games until you roll again.

If knock down all the pins you left the first time, he roars and explodes. That's what he does when you roll a strike, too, only then, all this smoke comes out of his ears and his pupils do this pinwheelish thing before he blows up.

Now, the people in the lanes next to ours sucked as bad as we did. They were a whole bunch of rock band guys I met at after parties and stuff like that. I don't even know what bands they were in but by the reaction they got from people on the way in and even at the party, they must've been pretty popular. And they were so drunk they couldn't even see the pins, let alone hit them.

Of course, nobody cared how they were bowling because all the best looking women who'd come, a few models, some young actresses, the hot babes in the house were all standing around our two lanes, trying to get some play.

So this guy Mark who's the singer for one of the bands comes over and starts talking shit about us—nothing mean, just goofing around. And it became this little competition between us, even though none of us could bowl worth a damn.

And the whole time we've got all these people snapping shots on their cells and sending them to Instagram, Twitter, Facebook and all that—you can't avoid being out there even if you don't have press in the mix.

I was a little bit worried about Wyatt, but we played in male and female teams, so you couldn't tell which woman was with which guy at all. And the scores were pretty embarrassing at first. Until Wyatt, the last one on the women's team, comes out and grabs this ball that looked almost as big as she was and almost dropped it.

And I go, "How are you going to throw that thing if you can hardly lift it up?"

But she just gave me this little look, hauled it up to the line, planted her feet wide apart, swung the ball between her legs a few times—while some of the rocker guys ran around behind her to get a good look at her butt—and then just dropped it on the last forward swing. Dropped it, no kidding. Or rather just let it sort of fall, kind of carefully, onto the lane.

And while everyone was cracking up at her, we noticed the ball was heading right for the sweet spot so that when it hit the right pins they fell in this pattern that wiped all the rest of them out like magic. It was sweet, I have to admit.

So the girls all started yelling and slapping five and jumping around, and after that, they all started doing the same thing, only in their own ways. Aisha really put some speed on it when she did it and pins flew every which way. And Mike swung it back and then lobbed it damned near halfway down the lane, but still got a strike.

Amelie sat it down even more carefully than Wyatt had, with this really determined little frown on her face. And about an hour later, it still hit the right bunch of pins and we guys just rolled our eyes as the others fell. And then she did the Running Man after the strike. You have not lived until you see a woman like Amelie bust a move like that. Swear to God, I almost peed a little, I laughed so hard.

Celie's release was almost like ballet or something, the way she swung out her hands all graceful. But the big fun started when Mike started twerking the next time she bent over. Guys starting knocking each other over trying to peep at that, of course. And it went viral in seconds.

So not to be outdone, Carol Ann got up and did a killer stripper "drop" before she started swinging.

And Marc drops his ball back into the little machine thing and goes, "Okay, like anybody even gives a damn who's winning now!"

And WeeZee goes, "How you gon' get all drunk and disorderly up in here, woman?"

And Carol Ann walks up to him, does the "chicken head" thing, and said, "Tha's right! I'm back, mutha fukka," with a circle snap to seal that deal.

Now, Carol Ann is a real "round the way" girl, okay? Still gets her hair done in the neighborhood and reminds me of that girl that sings lead in TLC. T-Boz, was it? That's what she looks like. Or, more like Mary J. Blige, maybe. But back when they still dressed sort of ghetto fabulous, you know? That look and attitude.

I'm sure she was still sad about the baby deep down, but that night she was her old self again, the girl we knew "back in the day" when she was one of our buddies in the projects. That's another thing we love about WeeZee, how he went back "home" when he finally did decide to become "semi-domesticated."

And once she got the booty shaking started, the object of the game became what crazy thing you could do when you got up there. The guys did lame stuff like throwing with their eyes closed or sort of soccer kicking it—nothing "sexy," just stupid guy stuff. Except when one of the band dudes tried to twerk a little, but he didn't have enough ass to shake, really.

I "C Walked" up to the line once. And understand, I grew up in Crip territory, so I learned that stuff to stay alive, okay? Never been affiliated, as they say. But I knew some bangers who could C Walk with deep style. And all us little kids bit off as much as we could.

So anyway, I did that. And then Big Man did a pretty cool robot up to the line and swung his arm all mechanical-like. But I mean how does a guy top a twerk?

The girls knew they had us beat, of course. So they kept on doing the between the legs thing, but they'd shimmy their boobs or get their eagle on or something before they threw. And they kept making strikes, too. Slaughtered us, even clowning around.

Nobody was mad, though, because first off, it was fun. And second, the losing teams had to cough up money for charity, so it was kind of cooler to lose than to win. The winning teams all gave, too, of course. And the losers kept upping the ante.

And one team, some porn industry guys we knew, started making it rain on the women who came to collect. They looked like Hooters girls, and they took drink orders and stuff, too. So when they came with their contribution baskets, those guys started throwing big bucks in there.

So then, to really get the money flowing, we decided to send all our girls—including Amelie and Celie but not Carol Ann or Wyatt—out to see who could get the most money. They could do whatever they wanted to get that cash, and let me tell you, it got buck wild out there.

Amelie surprised us most of all, because she was such a good sport. She didn't do a lot of rump shaking or anything, but she waded into the crowds of guys pretty fearlessly. And they were all more than happy to just take a selfie with her because she had those super model looks and all. I think she did so well because she was so classy.

These were mostly men who had the money and connects but she was on a whole 'nother level, Amelie. She had this sweet smile, like everything you did or said just made her happy for some reason. Someone smiles at you like that, you're a goner.

So I sidled up to Hugh and said, "I reeeeaaally like her. You think she likes us?"

And he said, "She's enjoying herself immensely. Suspected she would. Though I was surprised she was so easily convinced. Given...well...let's just say a few of her colleagues will give her a hard time when she returns. Rather self-righteous, that lot. With reason, but..."

"What does she do, exactly?"

He lit up a little, when I asked that.

"Good work, actually—dangerous work. With a group of journalists who document these things for various news outlets and such. There's a new show on cable here in America—HBO—which relies heavily on their footage. And their access. It's almost like AP or one of those syndicated news outfits. But they are dedicated solely to the sort of muck raking that the traditional news outlets no longer have the guts or money to attempt—Middle East lately. And it's gotten them into some very scary situations. Hence the little ISIS quip that went down like a lead balloon."

"That's crazy, dude. I mean, it's cool, but a lot of those people are total lunatics."

"She would've argued with you about that once," he said. And then he sipped, shrugged, looked out at Amelie again for a long time. So did I. She was laughing and goofing around so carefree that it was hard to believe what he's just told me.

And Hugh said, "A year ago, she would've said we were reaping what we sewed or...words to that effect. But it's difficult to sympathize with the new ones like Boko Haram and ISIS whose sole objective seems to be literally blowing us back to the Stone Age. And of course, having seen the carnage first hand..."

"And she's here clowning around with us. That's friggin' amazing, Hugh."

He watched her again for a little bit, and then said, "Truly," like a proud papa.

I looked at her for a few minutes, too. With much respect. By then she was walking around with the basket on her head, looking like some of the women in the village she'd probably taken pictures of. Only she was laughing and teasing the guys chasing after her to put money in. They got a little peck on the cheek when they dropped something in. And they were lined up like schoolboys for it. So cute.

"You've been looking for this one for a long time, haven't you?" I said.

"Didn't look. Didn't think there was one."

I raised my beer to him just as this yelling started up somewhere out there. Saw some people go running by, too. And my control box buzzed, so I turned it on and said, "Yo! What the hell?!"

And Cat yelled, "Come toward the VIP door!"

"What's—"

"Just get over here! Hurry up!"

Hugh and I went wading through as best we could. It got a lot easier when security came swarming up around us. And when we got over there, we wedged through this big circle of people just in time to see Carol Ann rip a handful of platinum blond weave off some white woman's head.

WeeZee came flying out of the crowd behind her and snatched her up off her feet and away from whoever she was beating hell out of, and Big Man and I both got hold of the white woman she'd snatched nearly bald and one of the black ones she had apparently been with.

Carol Ann had yanked out some of her real hair and some scalp, too, leaving this bloody patch one side of her head. And she kept screeching this incredible stream of cuss words I hadn't even heard before—Carol Ann, I mean.

 The white woman was screaming, too, but she wasn't as "inventive" as Carol Ann, who had pretty much called her every species of bitch she could come up with. We let security haul the white woman and her friends off and order was restored right quick. A pretty impressive showing by security, I must say. I don't think most of the people in the place even knew there'd been a fight.

But Hugh looked around, all around, and touched my shoulder and said, "I'll meet you upstairs. I've got to find Ami," as he waded off into the crowd again. And his voice told me, again, that there was a story I hadn't heard.

But I didn't have time to think about it because in the elevator up to our private VIP room Carol Ann started slapping WeeZee around, too. We let her get a few licks in because of what she was screaming about him and the white woman. If it was true, he deserved a beat down. But when she took off one of her stilettos I ran over and dragged her out of swinging range and the elevator doors opened.

So as I'm dragging her into the VIP room, she's yelling, "How you gon' bring that skanky ass ho up in here knowin' I was comin'?!" And she kept trying to kick me with the other heel, while she was yelling.

And WeeZee comes running at her yelling, "I ain't invite none o' these people! An' I'll whup yo' ass, you don't settle down'n' quit actin' a damned fool!"

Mike stepped up to him and said, "Nobody's whuppin' nobody's ass, son," while the other girls dragged Carol Ann away. She's taller than WeeZee—he's a tiny little dude, actually. And he sort of smiled and stepped back from Mike like he knew better than to lay hands on her.

When she gets mad, the "man" part of her turns up full blast. Scares most guys, when she flips the switch like that. She doesn't look like a man, there's just something in the vibe that puts them off their game. Their instincts get all discombobulated. It's fun to watch.

I noticed a few seconds later that Amelie was sort of standing in the middle of the room looking sort of discombobulated, too, even with Hugh's arms around her.

And when I went over to check on her, she gave me this shaky little smile and said, "I've just seen my first scalping."

"Are you okay?" I asked.

"A bit shell shocked," she said. "But please don't worry!"

She touched my cheek and her eyes were pleading with me so hard that I took hold of her hand and kissed it.

"We're safe up here. And she'll calm down in a minute. This is a typical night out for those guys. It's like that stupid show on MTV or whatever. With all the rap guys wives beating on each other all the time. You've probably never seen that, though."

She laughed and said, "Actually we've watched it a few times. In awe."

"Yeah, well, that's not what I feel when I watch it. I mean, grown, good looking women acting like that? No man is worth losing all your dignity for."

"Oh, I don't know..." she said. Giving Hugh a little smile. Just playing. Trying to, anyway.

He kissed her and said, "Let's not get any ideas, tough guy. One scalping a night's our limit."

I felt Wyatt touch my back again—like I said, I know when it's her. So I turned and drew her up next to me.

And she said, "Who was that? The woman she attacked?"

"We'll be at the bar," Hugh said. Amelie waggled fingers as he led her away, but I thought she still looked a little "off" somehow.

"Is she all right?" Wyatt asked.

"Just a little rattled," I said. "But to answer your question, it was some...rapper girl or something. I've seen 'er but I don't know her name. She sorta sucks, to be honest. I'm not sure why Che would have her here. Did you see the whole thing?"

"Only her initial reaction," she told me. "We were having a rather intense conversation. And she laughed and said we needed to take an alcohol break and went to the bar. But the next thing I knew she was running for the fire exit. And when I ran down, security wouldn't let me through. I think they thought I'd come down to join in."

I laughed and said, "That's a Facebook shot the kids would love! Miz Taylor in the middle of a Vegas cat fight."

"I've been thinking about that, actually," she said.

"No doubt."

"But she's had an awful time, Carol Ann," she said. "I think she was very grateful to be able to talk to someone who knew what an ordeal she'd been through. But mine was dead in the womb. She had to watch hers die."

"Jeezus—really?"

"Her heart and lungs were...I suppose you'd say underdeveloped, but it sounded a bit worse than that. And there really wasn't anything that could be done. So, they held her until she stopped breathing. Or...panting, she said. The way puppies do. I could almost picture it."

"Yeah, my babies were breathing like that for a few days, too," I said. "Only they pinked up and came alive one day. And I got to take them home. She went home empty handed. I can't even imagine..."

Wyatt sighed and shrugged and said, "She just needed to talk it through. It's still a taboo subject. Women act as if it's contagious and men absolutely don't want to hear it. So you're completely on your own, emotionally. I would cry in my car, sometimes. Before and after school."

I put an arm around and gave her a little kiss on the forehead. And WeeZee came up and said, "I ain't laid a hand on that bitch she so mad about! It's them damned women she be hangin' out wit while I'm on the road. Stirrin' the pot like a buncha damned witches."

So I said, "Any other surprise guests we need to be lookin' out for?"

"You heard me or what?"

"I know you. Almost as well as she does."

"Would I let you bring 'er over here if I'da knew somebody was gon' be here?"

"Well, like you said, you didn't make the guest list. And we should've thought of that, too, so it's partly on us, I guess."

He looked over at Carol Ann and said, "Well, I'ma take her on outta here. Y'all don't need all this ghetto mess—git yo' ass up, woman! We goin'!"

"Who you talkin' to?"

"Talkin' to you! Quit embarrassin' these people! They din fly your crazy ass over here so you could be tearin' up people's weave'n shit!"

Carol Ann smirked a little, but then she started hugging everybody and saying she was sorry but, "Y'all know what I'm dealin' wit" to the girls.

And while she was saying her goodbyes, WeeZee looked at Wyatt and said, "You got a man right here. He gon' do things ain't none of us even thought of."

She smiled quietly and said, "Yes, that's true. And you have a woman to take care of."

He laughed and said, "I guess I know whose side she's on!"

"She's been there," I told him. "She went through the same thing as Carol Ann once."

"Did?" WeeZee asked. And his eyes were very sincere.

And then he then he threw his arms around her and squeezed real hard—I think he thought the baby was mine. Because he put a hand on my cheek before he bear hugged me. And I felt him slide some blunts into my pocket right quick.

"Keep the party goin', playa," he said, when he let go. "Not jus' tonight, you heard?"

I didn't correct his mistake about the baby. I just smiled and said, "I heard. And I've missed you guys. For some reason. You'll be here tomorrow night, right?"

He slapped me on the back, said, "You know we will," and then headed for Carol Ann like she'd never pulled a stiletto on him or anything.

Wyatt said, "Brave man," but with a little laugh in it.

"Not really. He's never going to leave her for someone else. They both know that. She just gets tired of having to turn the other cheek sometimes."

I took Wyatt's hand and we headed over to Hugh and the rest of our crew. Amelie was still pale, but I don't think anyone else had noticed anything wrong.

So I said, "You good?" Mostly to see if I could get a read on how she was really feeling.

And Hugh said, "It may be time for us to head back up."

But Amelie gave him a little pat on the chest and said, "Absolutely not. I'm a bit knackered as he would say, but I'm having the most wonderful time!"

"How 'bout we go up top and get some fresh air, then?" I said. "I've got some party favors from Weez."

"Ah, medicinals," Hugh said. "Chemical or agricultural?"

We all laughed and headed for the fire exit, and up to the roof. There's a big indoor lounge sort of thing up there, but we walked just walked through it to get into the open air and look down at all the lights. That seemed to make Amelie settle in again. That and being in Hugh's arms.

She said, "In the movies, they always say, 'All this will someday be yours,' when they stand there looking down at some city like this."

And then she looked at me and Wyatt and the girls nearby and said, "But this time it's not just a line in a movie. What does that feel like?"

"Feels like this," I said, pulling out one of the blunts.

And after a few hits we all went back in and sat on the floor to wait for the world to stop spinning around. I let Big Man know where we were, and he brought Celie up but headed back down to keep an eye on things a while longer.

And then Joie came stomping out of the fire exit door going, "All the dish! Let's hear it! Who hit who and why?"

"Keep your shirt on," Aisha said.

"I may actually," she said. "I haven't been untucked for this long in ages."

S/he came over and sat with the girls, still dressed like a guy—totally messed with my mind, whenever s/he did that. S/he had this sort of...David Bowie vibe. Like s/he would maybe own an art gallery or a swanky, foodie restaurant or something.

"I always forget how good looking you are like that," Mike said.

And Cat winked and said, "I bet the girlies are trippin' over you, huh?"

"They do stare, these women," Joie said. "But I feel bad for them. There's no pretense at all. I miss the old game, you know? High rollers, flipping you a hundred dollar chip in the elevator—'Go buy yourself somethin' nice, pretty lady,' you know? The old wine and dine—they romanced you a little."

Celie blinked like she was stunned and sputtered out, "You...I mean, I'm just...curious how they...dealt with you. Or how you dealt with them." 

Joie laughed and said, "I told them I came with accessories. But they would laugh and still take me to dinner or even up to their room just out of curiosity. I mean, it's Vegas! You come here to do things you'd never do back home. Fantasyland, you know? Or it was. Now, it's just those gigantic clubs full of smug young guys and desperate young girls they won't remember five minutes after they pull those thongs back up. Sacrificial lambs..."

"You don't sound like your other self at all," Celie said.

"Well, she's got the two heads both working right now," I said. "Gotta be a little confusing."

"I've always wondered...well...has there been any damage, after all these years?" Hugh asked.

And Amelie shot him a playful glare but Joie laughed and said, "This is the Fun House Gang, sweetie. No holds barred. And to answer that question, I don't actually do the full tuck that often. But if you do it right there's really no harm done. I won't give the graphic details here, though."

Mike said, "She can handle it. She can pro'bly handle anything, Ami."

From that, I figured Amelie had told them at least a little about her work.

    Especially when Cat said, "I can't believe she's even here," the way I had.

"What else did I miss?" Joie asked. Picking up on this new thread.

"Y'all don't make her talk about that," Aisha said. "She been laughin' and happy—she don't need to be talkin' about that crazy stuff."

Amelie said. "Don't scold, my love," and then she smiled at Joie and said, "Talking about it actually helps me cope."

"What happened?" Celie asked, leaning into it then, like a young girl sitting with her crew at lunch at school, right? Full focus.

Amelie hugged Hugh's arm, shrugged and said, "Boko Haram destroyed a market just as we were finishing a shoot. For a documentary we're doing for CanalPlus. I think they came because they'd heard we were filming, actually. I can't be sure, of course, but...it's the sort of thing that might set them off. White foreigners asking questions, taking pictures..."

"Aw, c'mon, you're not blaming yourself, are you?" I said. "Every day there's something heinous on the news. Hundreds killed or kidnapped. They're outta control."

"Let's say...we were an easy excuse," Amelie said, but with a smile. Not trying to contradict me, just telling the truth as she saw it. And she knew more about it than I did, so it was nice of her to say it that way. I felt sort of stupid, trying to argue with someone who'd actually been there.

Celie rescued me by asking, "You weren't hurt, though, right?" She seemed really freaked out. And so was Wyatt. I could tell by how still she was, beside me.

Amelie turned that sweet little smile on Celie and said, "No. I was very lucky."

And Aisha blurted out, "Lucky?!" which made us all laugh a little. And Amelie reached over and gave Aisha's arm a squeeze.

"Yes, luckier than most."

"Because she lived to tell," Joie said. "Got out just in the nick?"

"No, we weren't that lucky," Amelie said. "But..."

She stopped for a moment. I could feel her really bracing herself. So I looked at Hugh, but he gave me an index finger, down low, like a secret signal for me to pipe down and let her get it said.

So I backed off. And she shrugged again, or maybe shuddered a little, and said, "I hid myself. Between two bodies, face down. I was fully covered, except for my face. So they could not see that I was a white woman. We were half inside one of the little shops. In the doorway—they'd been pushing and shoving to get out, you see. But they threw...grenades or...some type of explosives. It was chaos. Even if you got out, they were there, waiting, shooting. So there was such a lot of blood that they must have thought we had to be dead."

Nobody said a word. Nobody could speak.

Except Amelie, who was in sort of a daze by then.

"I remembered hearing others talk about doing that, burrowing under dead bodies. And I thought it was very callous—selfish. But they even shoot the dead ones. To be sure. And carry off any women they find alive. They've captured thousands of women. But there weren't any left alive that day."

Wyatt said, "Except..." but couldn't even finish the sentence.

Amelie smiled at her and said, "Yes. Only me. And some of the crew. We lost two. And...an interpreter. Beautiful young man we'd worked with several times. He had gone back to school, with the money he earned. We were so proud of him..."

Hugh got hold of her again and said, "Stop now..." very gently.

And she kissed him and said, "There's no more to say."

And to me she said, "So you see why tonight is so special to me. Why you and your girls are so special to me. That you...do what you do."

"We don't do anything even close to what you do," I said.

"Think a little," she said. "About the people who are having a real holiday right now, because of you." And to Hugh she said, "Do you know that they even added up how much those women would get from all the things they bought? I heard them, in the dressing room, working out how they could make sure everyone got close to the same amount. And a large amount, too. Who does this?"

"They do," Hugh said, with a little chuckle. "Because they're special."

She reached for both my hands and said, "And bless you, for it. Bless you for that and for Nick and for this crazy night in this crazy place."

I had to look away because I felt sort of embarrassed to be singled out. But she squeezed my hands and said, "There is so much evil in the world. So yes! Throw parties! Make carnivals! Give us laughter and...glowing bowling balls and big baskets full of money for those who have none. I'm honored to be here. To laugh and play here with my dear one and all of you."

She gave Hugh a look that we could all feel. And when he put his arms around her and kissed her Wyatt turned her head away right quick, really fighting to keep from bawling her eyes out. We all were.

So I put my arm around her shoulders, and she just smiled and rested her head on my chest for a second. Like she was hugging me back.

And Celie said, "Who are you people?"

Which gave us an excuse to laugh our asses off for a minute. And then I sparked up a blunt right quick, to keep the party going, like WeeZee'd said.

But everything had changed. We couldn't go back down there and act like lunatics, after what we'd heard. Or rather, we realized even more how blessed we were to be able to act like that, after what we'd heard.

But for the moment, all we wanted to do was sit there passing the weed around, watching Hugh rock Amelie in his arms. Glad she was safe there, with all of us. As one of us. A special one. Who loved us with eyes that smiled despite all the evil they had seen.