iancaldwell&dustinthomason.theruleoffour-第69部分

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　〃Sir？〃　says　a　waiter　dressed　in　white　tie；　who　has　appeared　from　nowhere　bearing　a　tray　of　canapés　and　truffles。　〃Lamb；〃　he　says；　pointing　at　the　first；　〃and　white　chocolate；〃　pointing　at　the　second。
　〃Have　one；〃　Gil　says。
　So　I　do；　and　all　the　hunger　of　the　day；　the　missed　meals　and　hospital　food　fantasies；　all　of　it　instantly　returns。　When　another　man　circles　by　with　a　tray　of　champagne　flutes；　I　help　myself　again。　The　bubbles　rise　straight　to　my　head；　helping　to　keep　my　thoughts　from　drifting　back　to　Paul。
　Just　then；　a　musical　quartet　kicks　up　from　the　dining　room　antechamber；　a　place　where　weathered　lounge　chairs　used　to　stand。　A　piano　and　drum　set　have　been　tucked　into　the　corner；　with　enough　room　for　a　bass　and　electric　guitar　in　between。　For　the　time　being；　it's　R&B　standards。　Later；　I　know；　if　Gil　has　his　way；　there　will　be　jazz。
　〃I'll　be　right　back；〃　he　says；　and　suddenly　he　leaves　my　side；　heading　up　the　stairs。　At　every　step；　a　member　stops　him　to　say　something　kind；　to　smile　and　shake　his　hand；　sometimes　to　hug　him。　I　see　Donald　Morgan　place　a　careful　hand　on　Gil's　back　as　he　passes；　the　easy；　sincere　congratulations　of　the　man　who　would　be　king。　Junior　women　already　in　their　drinks　look　at　Gil　with　foggy　eyes；　sentimental　about　the　club's　loss；　their　loss。　He　is　tonight's　hero；　I　realize；　the　host　and　guest　of　honor　both。　Everywhere　he　goes　he'll　have　pany。　But　somehow；　without　anyone　by　his　side…Brooks　or　Anna　or　one　of　us…he　looks　alone　already。
　〃Tom！〃　es　a　voice　from　behind　me。
　I　turn；　and　the　air　converges　in　a　single　fragrance；　the　one　Gil's　mother　and　Charlie's　girlfriend　must've　worn；　because　it　has　the　same　effect　on　me。　If　I　imagined　that　I　liked　Katie　best　when　I　saw　her　with　flaws；　with　her　hair　up　and　her　shirt　untucked；　then　I　was　a　fool。　Because　here　she　is　now；　tucked　into　a　black　gown；　hair　down；　all　collarbones　and　breasts；　and　I　am　undone。
　〃Wow。〃
　She　puts　a　hand　on　my　lapel　and　rubs　off　a　flake　of　dust　that　turns　out　to　be　snow；　still　lingering　in　this　heat。
　〃Same　to　you；〃　she　says。
　There　is　something　wonderful　in　her　voice；　a　wele　ease。　〃Where's　Gil？〃　she　asks。
　〃Upstairs。〃
　She　pulls　two　more　flutes　of　champagne　from　a　passing　tray。
　〃Cheers；〃　she　says；　giving　me　one。　〃So　who　are　you　supposed　to　be？〃
　I　hesitate；　unsure　what　she　means。
　〃Your　costume。　Who'd　you　e　as？〃
　Now　Gil　reappears。
　〃Hey；〃　Katie　says。　〃Long　time　no　see。〃
　Gil　sizes　the　two　of　us　up；　then　smiles　like　a　proud　father。　〃You　both　look　beautiful。〃
　Katie　laughs。　〃So　who　are　you　supposed　to　be？〃　she　asks。
　With　a　flourish；　Gil　swings　back　the　side　of　his　jacket。　Only　now　do　I　see　what　he　went　upstairs　to　get。　There；　hanging　between　the　left　flank　of　his　waist　and　his　right　hip；　is　a　black　leather　belt。　On　the　belt　is　a　leather　holster；　and　in　the　holster　is　an　ivory…handled　pistol。
　〃Aaron　Burr；〃　he　says。　〃Class　of　1772。〃
　〃Flashy；〃　Katie　says；　watching　the　pearly　butt　of　the　gun。
　〃What's　that？〃　I　blurt。
　Gil　seems　taken　aback。　〃My　costume。　Burr　shot　Hamilton　in　a　duel。〃
　He　puts　an　arm　at　my　back　and　leads　me　toward　the　landing　between　the　first　and　second　floors。
　〃See　the　lapel　pins　Jamie　Ness　is　wearing？〃　He　points　at　a　blond　senior　whose　bow　tie　is　embroidered　with　treble　and　bass　clefs。
　On　the　left　lapel　I　can　make　out　a　brown　oval；　on　the　right；　a　black　dot。
　〃That's　a　football；〃　Gil　says；　〃and　that's　a　hockey　puck。　He's　Hobey　Baker；　Ivy　section　of　1914。　The　only　man　ever　inducted　into　both　the　football　and　hockey　halls　of　fame。　Hobey　was　in　a　singing　group　here…that's　why　Jamie's　tie　has　notes　on　it。〃
　Now　Gil　points　to　a　tall　senior　with　bright　red　hair。　〃Chris　Bentham；　right　beside　Doug：　James　Madison；　class　of　1771。　You　can　tell　by　the　shirt　buttons。　The　top　one　is　a　Princeton　seal…Madison　was　the　first　president　of　the　alumni　association。　And　the　fourth　one　is　an　American　flag。　。　。　。〃
　There　is　something　mechanical　in　his　voice；　a　tour　guide's　inflection；　as　if　he's　reading　a　script　in　his　head。
　〃Just　make　up　a　costume；〃　Katie　interjects；　joining　our　conversation　from　the　foot　of　the　stairs。
　I　glance　down　at　her；　and　the　leverage　gives　me　a　new　appreciation　for　the　way　she　fits　into　her　dress。
　〃Oh；　listen；〃　Gil　says；　looking　past　her；　〃I've　got　to　go　deal　with　something。　Can　you　two　manage　on　your　own　for　a　second？〃
　Over　by　the　wet　bar；　Brooks　is　pointing　to　one　of　the　white…gloved　attendants；　who　is　leaning　heavily　against　the　wall。
　〃One　of　the　servers　is　drunk；〃　Gil　says。
　〃No　rush；〃　I　tell　him；　noticing　how　Katie's　neck　looks　impossibly　thin　from　this　height；　like　the　stem　of　a　sunflower。
　〃If　you　need　anything；〃　he　says；　〃just　let　me　know。〃
　Side　by　side；　we　begin　to　descend。　The　band　is　playing　Duke　Ellington；　the　champagne　flutes　are　clinking；　and　Katie's　lipstick　has　a　high　red　gloss；　the　color　of　a　kiss。
　〃Want　to　dance？〃　I　say；　when　I　step　down　from　the　landing。
　Katie　smiles　and　takes　me　by　the　hand。
　Listen　。　。　。　rails　a…thrumming　。　。　。　on　the　〃A〃　train。
　At　the　foot　of　the　stairs；　Gil's　tracks　and　mine　diverge。
　
　Chapter　26
　
　The　dance　floor　is　ten　degrees　hotter　than　the　rest　of　the　club；　couples　pressed　tight　into　each　other；　merging　and　turning；　an　asteroid　belt　of　slow…dancers；　but　I　instantly　feel　fortable。　Katie　and　I　have　moved　to　a　lot　of　music　since　that　first　night　we　met　at　Ivy。　Each　weekend　on　Prospect　Avenue　the　clubs　hire　bands　to　suit　every　taste；　and　in　just　a　few　months　we've　tried　ballroom　and　Latin　and　every　style　in　between。　With　nine　years　of　tap　behind　her；　Katie　has　enough　elegance　and　grace　for　three　or　four　dancers；　which　means　that　between　us　we　average　about　as　much　as　the　next　couple。　Still；　as　her　charity　case；　I've　e　a　long　way。　We　get　bolder　the　longer　we're　at　it；　succumbing　to　the　champagne。　I　manage　to　dip　her　once　without　falling　on　top　of　her；　she　manages　to　spin　from　my　good　arm　once　without　dislocating　anything；　and　soon　we're　dangerous　on　the　floor。
　〃I've　decided　who　I　am；〃　I　tell　her；　pulling　her　back　toward　me。
　There's　a　wonderful　contact　between　us；　her　cleavage　tightening；　breasts　buoyant。
　〃Who？〃　she　says。
　We're　both　breathing　hard。　Tiny　drops　of　sweat　are　forming　at　the　top　of　her　forehead。
　〃F。　Scott　Fitzgerald。〃
　Katie　shakes　her　head　and　smiles。　Her　tongue　flits　in　the　gap　between　her　teeth。　〃You　can't；〃　she　says。　〃Scott　Fitzgerald's　not　allowed。〃
　We're　both　talking　loudly；　our　mouths　closer　and　closer　to　each　other's　ears　in　order　to　hear　above　the　music。
　〃Why　not？〃　I　ask；　getting　my　lips　tangled　in　a　few　strands　of　hair。　She　has　a　dot　of　perfume　on　her　neck；　the　same　way　she　did　in　the　darkroom；　and　the　continuum　between　there　and　here…the　idea　that　we　really　are　the　same　people；　just　differently　dressed…is　enough。
　〃Because　he　was　a　member　of　Cottage；〃　she　says；　leaning　forward。　〃That's　blasphemy。〃
　I　smile。　〃So　how　long　does　this　keep　up？〃
　〃The　ball？　Until　the　service　starts。〃
　It　takes　me　a　second　to　remember　that　tomorrow　is　Easter。
　〃At　midnight？〃　I　ask。
　She　nods。　〃Kelly　and　the　others　are　worried　about　turnout　at　the　chapel。〃
　Almost　on　cue；　we　make　another　turn　on　the　floor　and　Kelly　Danner　passes　into　view；　pointing　her　index　finger　at　a　sophomore　in　a　flashy　tux　vest；　the　body　language　of　a　witch　changing　a　prince　into　a　toad。　All…powerful　Kelly　Danner；　the　woman　not　even　Gil　trifles　with。
　〃They're　making　everyone　go？〃　I　say；　thinking　even　Kelly　would　be　hard…pressed　to　manage　that。
　Katie　shakes　her　head。　〃They're　closing　the　club　and　suggesting　that　people　go。〃
　There's　an　edge　to　her　voice　when　she　talks　about　Kelly；　so　I　decide　not　to　press。　Watching　the　couples　around　us；　I　can't　help　but　think　about　Paul；　who　always　seemed　alone　here。
　Just　then；　the　rhythm　of　the　entire　party　is　thrown　off　when　one　final　couple　arrives　at　the　door；　late　enough　to　upstage　everyone　else。　It's　Parker　Hassett　and　his　date。　True　to　his　word；　Parker　has　dyed　his　hair　brown；　parted　it　rigidly　down　the　left　side；　and　donned　an　inaugural…style　tuxedo　with　white　vest　and　white　tie；　for　a　strangely　convincing　resemblance　to　John　Kennedy。　His　partner；　the　always　dramatic　Veronica　Terry；　has　also　e　as　billed。　In　a　windswep