I lean back and wait for Joe, long enough to grab hold of his hand and to fish out the little slip of a handkerchief, easing behind him and tying it over his eyes. "This," I inform him, lips right by his ear, "is for heckling me and calling me a fag for going to Harvard." With that, I yank the knot tight and finished.

"Dinner, on the dock. Things are ready. Then whatever you want. I mean, it's not as if we need to follow what I said we'd do. I doubt you'd really want to stargaze or dance or anything like that."