Chapter 15

Burk had been listening. He stood up and struck a pose, a stereotypical, back of the hand to the forehead, eye-rolling thing I hadn’t seen done so well since one of the older queens in New York City, decades ago, had found a run in her stocking. “Oh, my God!” he orated. “You had a bad week? This is the story of my life! My whole life is in ruins, dear child, ruins I say! I left my ten-inch Givenchy platform heels on the plane, for God’s sake! And my Coach purse has been ruined by…” Here he turned to me and looked normal. “What shall I say ruined it? Did I spill some gin in it?”

But I was laughing too hard to answer.

Fiona was slack-jawed and shaking her head. “Are you making fun of me?”

Burk returned, “Are you assuming I’m straight? The nerve!”

Her face…his face…I had to leave the room, and I did it bent over, holding my side and wheezing.