camp and then you see them in your regular life and it’s kind of awkward and strange, even though you still love them. But overall it was great.
Nelson and Jason arrived. Jason had his girlfriend in tow. Their newborn baby was in a sling on her chest and was quite adorable. And Patrick showed up with his burlesque girlfriend Sal. I was a tiny bit frosty toward him at first, but gave Sal a huge hug. I did bring myself to ask Patrick about his skating, and he said—modestly—that he’s been making it to the skate park almost every day. “I wouldn’t expect anything less of you,” I said, and I meant it. I admire him for maintaining the slacker ethos we all grew up valuing so highly. I’m just also really glad he isn’t my boyfriend. I said goodbye and made my way through the crowd.
I stopped and chatted with people I know as I went, like Teal, and a bunch of the burlesque girls, and my old college pals who I’ve gotten really close with again since we all went to about a million wedding events in the run-up to Yo’s fabulous nuptials (where my reading of a passage from “Love in the Time of Cholera” was a big hit, I must say). Annie appeared at my side with the hotness squared Castro twins in tow. (She told me that now that Jeff has a neck tattoo, she’s decided he’s by far the sexier of the two and has thus laid off her risqué flirtation with Joe.) The three of them sailed off together to check over the microphones for the fund-raising games.
I was standing alone for a moment, taking in the happy crowd, when Artemis came up and grabbed my elbow. “How are you doing?” she asked. I had been a little nervous about Artemis being at a party with booze, but she looked perfectly content to be sipping a LaCroix. I couldn’t help but follow her gaze toward FAIL BETTER! The entire time I was flitting around like a (very popular) social butterfly, I’d been trying to ignore the fact that the band was in the far corner playing a quiet acoustic set. Texas (a.k.a. Sam) was slapping the bongos, which I tried to tell myself looked stupid, but was actually pretty hot. Artemis and FAIL BETTER! lead singer Arsen Alton made steamy eye contact.
“I’m fine,” I said. “I think I acted like a giant immature idiot to Texas, but I’m fine.” I turned so my back was to FAIL BETTER! Seeing Texas was just too distracting. “How’s work anyway?” I asked. A couple of weeks ago Artemis landed a job as the Girl on the Swing at the Old San Francisco Steak House. In her new role she wears an 1880s–style (family friendly) prostitute getup and belts out old jazz standards while curled up on a piano. She then performs a rather seductive and death-defying round on the swing. Apparently when she was in her early twenties, Artemis did a stint as a trapeze artist, and so the swing comes naturally to her.
“My manager says I learn faster than any Girl on the Swing they’ve ever had before. I could kick the bell on the ceiling and do a back flip off the swing after a week of practicing.”
Right then Captain Tweaker joined us, grinning widely to show off his pearly whites. “How are my favorites doing?” he asked. We told him we were fine. “Hey,” he said. “I don’t mean to be nosey, but Sam told me he called you to ask you out and you said no because of his kids.”
“I kind of did,” I said miserably.
“You don’t look happy about it.”
“I’m not. I mean, I always kind of think of myself as a kid. But I don’t even like kids. Or like, I’ve never wanted them.”
“Did he ask you to be the mother of his children?” Captain Tweaker asked, inexplicably deploying his fake Irish accent.
“No. He just said he wanted to ask me out. But—”
“Did he even ask you to meet his kids?”
“No, but—”
“Would you want to go out with him?”
“Yes!” I wailed. “But—”
“Then why don’t you just try one date? When I used to think ahead into the future I would get so stressed out I had to smoke meth just to deal. But now I take things one day at a time and my life seems to be working out fine.” It was surprisingly good advice.
Just then Dirty Steve came