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Cal? Just another trust fund kid mooching off Daddy ’ s
money in the city?”
    “I said nothing,” I reply, a sly smile lifting the corners
of my mouth.
    “Yeah, well. You didn ’ t have to,” he
says, returning the small grin. “Good to know that you think so highly of me, after
all these years. I must have made a great impression on you back when we were
kids.”
    “You were a teenage boy,” I remind him, as he sits beside me
on the marble stairs, “There was only so good of an impression you were going
to make.”
    “That ’s fair, ” he shrugs, clinking his
glass against mine. “To steering clear of these goddamn Westchester parties
whenever possible, and at least finding good company when attendance is
inevitable.”
    “I will certainly drink to that,” I tell him.
    We sit in silence for a moment, looking out across the
crowded room. I can ’ t get a read on Jackson ’ s
emotional state. He seemed pretty wrecked back at the church, but now he ’ s giving me the bulletproof alpha male act. I don ’ t
know what to make of him.
    “So...How ’ re you holding up?” I ask, “I
know that ’ s a stupid question, but —”
    “What ’ s that thing people are always
saying at funerals?” he shoots back, “Oh, yeah. ‘I ’ m doing
as well as can be expected ’ .”
    “I ’ m not asking what people always
say,” I urge him, “I want to hear what you have to say, Jackson. Really.
I mean, you were the only person here who was actually close to Avery when...at
the end.”
    “Was I?” he says shortly, his voice hardening.
    “I mean...You guys were engaged,” I stammer. Clearly I ’ ve said something wrong. And I feel like I ’ m
only making it worse, bringing up their sudden engagement.
    “Look Cal,” Jack goes on, “We ’ ve always
been pals, right?”
    “Right,” I allow, my heart sinking at the platonic term.
    “And we ’ ve always been pretty straight with
each other,” he goes on, “So when I tell you that you don ’ t
actually know shit about what was going on in Avery ’ s
life, let alone mine, you ’ re gonna have to take my word
for it.”
    My mouth falls open as Jack sips his drink, not even
deigning to look at me. I swear, this guy can go from upstanding gent to
asshole in about three seconds flat. I ’ m about to tell him
so, too, until a couple of octogenarian women stop in front of us on the steps,
giggling all over Jack like schoolgirls.
    “My, my ,” says the first woman, beaming beneath her
blue-tinted curls, “Jackson Cole, you certainly have grown up nicely.”
    “Behave yourself, now,” the second woman chides. “Or you
might break a hip.”
    “We just wanted to come over here and tell you how proud we
are of all your success,” the first woman gushes, taking Jackson ’ s
finely formed hand in her own frail claw. “All of us old broads around here
just go wild every time we see you on the television.”
    “That ’ s very sweet of you to say,” Jack
smiles charitably, “That ’ s why I got into showbiz, you
know. To impress beautiful women such as yourselves.”
    My eyes roll all the way back in my head as the two old
ladies shriek with scandalized laughter. Jack shoots me a million dollar smile.
He always has known exactly how to push my buttons, this one.
    “We ’ ve been following that new movie of
yours,” the second women goes on at last.
    “Oh, right,” I say, remembering the film that Avery and Jack
were cast in together—Jack in a much larger role, obviously. “What ’ s the deal with that movie, again?”
    The women look up as if they ’ ve just
noticed me sitting here.
    “My dear, how have you not heard the details of this new
endeavor our Jackson is setting out on?” the blue-haired lady asks. “It ’ s one of those gritty, New York police dramas. It ’ s
going to make him a real star.”
    “Though he ’ s already a star to us,” the
second woman says, giving Jack a wink.
    “I guess I forgot to read the press releases