Читать книгу Blue Skies - Робин Карр, Robyn Carr, Robyn Carr - Страница 10

When Nikki got to Dixie’s, she walked in on an impressive pity party. Carlisle and Dixie were drinking mai tais with black rum floating on top, eating cheesecake and sorting through a big pile of men’s and women’s clothing that was heaped on the sofa.

“Oh, you are going to hate yourselves in the morning,” she predicted.

“Want one, Nick? We can call you a cab….”

“How about a small glass of wine and an explanation.”

Both were served up quickly. Dixie had whacked Branch in the head with the hotel door, and even though she’d done so unintentionally, she hadn’t made any attempt to help him. She’d heard him moan and stumble away, and at least briefly hoped he was dead.

Nikki sank onto a kitchen stool and leaned her head on her hand, listening.

“I think I might’ve had fifty boyfriends,” Dixie said. “Or a hundred. Do ya’ll know I have eleven tennis bracelets? Plus a good many necklaces, earrings and miscellaneous jewelry. And look at this here,” she said, going to the huge mound of clothes on the sofa. She lifted a fistful of sheer and lacy lingerie. Red, black, silver, gold, white, yellow—leopard? “Negligees, teddies and peekaboos—some I’ve fetched for myself, some given to me. All so that I can look sexy for whichever guy I pinned my hopes on.”

“What are you going to do with all that stuff?”

“Putting it out on the curb for giveaway. I’m getting Bali bras and Jockey For Her briefs from now on, and I’m going to start sleeping in a T-shirt like the rest of the female human race. And the next guy who gives me a teddy is going to be strangled with it.”

Nikki took a sip of her wine. Not only had she never been given a teddy, she had never bought one for herself. She’d worn cotton undies for ten years at least. And if she was honest, she didn’t really need a bra.

“The homeless are going to look très chic,” Carlisle said, slurring just slightly.

“I’ve heard you swear off men before…” Nikki began.

“Oh, no, this time I’m through. I hate all men.”

“That is s-o-o-o unkind,” Carlisle whined.

“Not all men, precious,” she said. “I still love all gay men. Well, not all,” she amended.

“You’re both shit-faced,” Nikki told them.

“It might seem so to you, Nicole,” Carlisle said, “but we have been so badly bruised by love.”

She looked at him seriously for a moment before she burst into laughter, and with the slightest lisp, said, “Carlisle, you get s-o-o-o gay when you’re drunk.”

“Thanks, Butch,” he shot back, taking another pull on his mai tai.

“So what’s your story?” she asked. “What’s driven you to drink? And are you giving up your sexy underwear, too?”

“It’s just Robert, the bastard. He’s chronically unfaithful and nasty to me. And I don’t wear underwear.” Then he began to sing “Alone Again, Naturally.” By the end of the first stanza they were on the floor in uncontrollable laughter.

Nikki indulged herself with another half glass of wine, just because her friends were so hysterically funny in their misery. “As much as I’d love to stay until you two get sick, I really do have to go,” she said at last. “I have two kids, a cranky father and a dead ex-husband to tend to.” But she made a pass by the sofa full of clothes. The men’s had belonged to Branch Darnell, but the sexy girlie stuff was all Dixie’s. She lifted a black shortie nightie that was totally transparent. “I have never owned anything like this,” she said mournfully.

“It’s just as well, sugar,” Dixie assured her. “That stuff’ll get you into trouble.”

Nikki held the nightie up to her, over her pilot shirt, of course. “Do you know what I’d give to look good in one of these things? The hell with men, I’d just wear it on Saturday nights and stare at myself in the mirror.” She waved it toward Dixie. “At least you can console yourself that you’re gorgeous.”

“I’d rather have two kids,” Dixie said.

That gave Nikki pause. She thought for a moment. “There’s absolutely no question that I’d ever give them up, not at the point of a gun, but I would like to have sex again. At least once before I die.”

“Well, then,” Carlisle said, “get down to the Salvation Army first thing Monday morning and you’ll find all that striking boudoir gear on sale.”

Carlisle had a headache the size of Texas when the ringing of the phone in the next room woke him. Dixie was already up, loading all the clothes into large yellow bags for the Salvation Army. She had turned some developmental corner. Five years ago, even one year ago, she’d have laundered everything and had her ex-lover come for it. There might have even been a tearful roll in the hay for old time’s sake. No more, she said. Meet the new Dixie.

Well, Carlisle thought, I am the same old me—starving for affection. And sometimes, he thought, needing to be abused. Why else would he put up with so much? What had Robert ever done for him but make him miserable? Robert wasn’t the least self-conscious about cheating; in fact, he became more open about it all the time.

The dark, depressing cloud that hung in the air at Dixie’s town house was caused by the absence of phone calls. Branch hadn’t phoned to beg forgiveness and profess his undying love, and Robert had certainly not bothered them. Neither Carlisle nor Dixie had dared venture around the corner to see if the BMW was back at the curb.

“You’d think that sorry bastard of a pilot would call,” Dixie had said.

“You put him in the hospital,” Carlisle reminder her. “It might have pissed him off. But Roberto…”

“Is very clever. He waits until he knows you’ll be miserably lonely, then he calls, and you’re the big dope who gives him one more chance. It’s happened…what? Twenty or thirty times? At least I always move on to a new man.” She cleared her throat. “Or I used to. I’m not gonna do that anymore. No more men! I just can’t figure out what I’m going to do about sex. I’m awful fond of sex.”

But this time it was neither Branch nor Robert on the phone. It was Nikki, offering an opportunity to keep them from just licking their wounds and medicating their hangovers. She asked if they were up to helping her go through Drake’s clothes and other personal items. “I dread it,” she told them. “School’s going to be out soon and I have to get this behind us. I could use the company.”

“You sure we won’t just be in the way?” Dixie asked. “It’s a mighty emotional thing for kids.”

“I told the kids to think about what they’d like to keep—sentimental things, like watches and cuff links and stuff. The rest, they understand, is going to go to people who can use it. I’m going to get as much of it cleared out as possible while they’re at school.”

“Of course we’ll help you, sugar,” Dixie said. “The three of us. Just like old times. We’ll meet you over there in an hour.” When she hung up, she said to Carlisle, “She needs us more than we need to feel sorry for ourselves. Now, are you going to stay here with me for a while?”

“If you’re sure it’s okay…”

“It’s not only okay, if you go back home I’ll be very disappointed in you.”

So Carlisle went around the corner to his town house to pack a bag while Robert was at work. He looked around the home they’d shared these past three years. You’d think Robert would have left a note or something, but he hadn’t even picked up his dirty clothes or wiped out the sink. He left the scut work for Carlisle…and Carlisle always did it.

He drove his car around the corner to store in Dixie’s garage, and when he pulled into her drive, she was putting the bags full of clothes out on the curb for pickup. This had been the fourth time in the past year that Carlisle had packed a bag to leave Robert. In his heart he hoped he would be strong enough and smart enough not to go back this time.

Of course, he had a long history of running away. Once he got to college, he had gone home to Anoka, Minnesota, as seldom as possible. He had no siblings, and his straitlaced religious parents were not just openly disapproving of gays, they were downright hostile. Carlisle was afraid they’d pick up on clues that would have been obvious years before to anyone else.

But they hadn’t. Carlisle was a twenty-six-year-old fifth-grade teacher when he finally told them the truth, and they acted exactly as he had feared—stunned and angry. “But you went to the prom!” was his mother’s first shocked and disbelieving cry. Mothers who were worried that their sons were gay always hung on to that prom date as confirmation that their worst fears were unfounded.

Then they told him not to discuss that filth around them again until he had examined all his options. Options? Like rehabilitation. There was a church in Minneapolis that was having great success helping gays return to a straight life.

Carlisle often wondered how you could “return” to a straight life. When had he ever been straight? He had no memory of it.

He seemed to be able to have a superficial, somewhat loving relationship with his mother, Ethel, as long as they never broached the subject of homosexuality. But this was hard for Ethel, who always wanted to know if he was still gay.

His father, on the other hand, was barely civil. It was with great sadness that Carlisle had left his teaching job and the Midwest ten years ago to fly for Aries, but he got the distinct impression that his parents were relieved to have him so far away. He visited rarely, and when he did, his father had nothing to say to him. There was no way he would ever introduce anyone in his family to a partner. Carlisle knew he was referred to as the Gay Cousin, and while a couple of his aunts sent Christmas cards and occasional notes, no one bothered to keep him posted on family events, probably fearful he might attend.

But then came the real deal breaker, the events of 9/11. Although there had not been an Aries jet involved, airline employees often traveled on other airlines using nonrevenue passes—a professional courtesy. His parents couldn’t know for certain that he wasn’t on one of the hijacked planes, whereas Carlisle had talked to his mother the previous month and knew they had no travel plans and were tucked safely away in Anoka.

As it happened, Carlisle had been in New York on a layover and was stranded by the grounding of all aircraft. He had watched the plume of smoke that grayed the city and wept his heart out at what was happening to the world. Dixie had been in D.C. and Nikki in Boston, and it had taken a couple of days for their cell phones to work properly so they could be certain of one another’s safety.

When his parents saw those huge planes smash into the towers, killing thousands of people, did they not think, “Where is Carlisle? Could he have been on one of those planes? Is he okay?”

They had never called. No one had called. Not his parents, aunts or cousins.

That’s when he realized they weren’t just annoyed with him for being gay. They simply didn’t care about him at all.

Because of that, whenever he and his two best friends groused about their loneliness, Carlisle felt he was the most alone of all.

Ever since Nikki had left the house she’d lived in as Drake’s wife, she had felt a little strange driving up to it. The feeling was even more pronounced now that he was dead and she was a guest in this house that belonged to the bank.

Buck had convinced the children to stay at his house while Nikki was away on her flight, and he had driven them to and from school. It was just too much to expect him to move into Drake’s house; Buck used to seethe each time he had to pick up the kids there. But today after school they would return to this house that had been their home.

Dixie and Carlisle were parked at the curb, waiting for her. They had several hours left before the kids would be home from school.

“I really don’t know what to do with this house,” Nikki said to her friends as they met on the driveway. “There’s not a dime of equity in it and the kids really like the neighborhood and schools, so it makes sense to just live here with them. But for me…?”

“Too many bad memories?” Carlisle asked.

“More than I can count. Plus, thanks to Drake’s poor planning, the mortgage payment is horrendous.”

“They say don’t make any big changes right after a death,” Dixie advised.

“If they had been needled and ridiculed by Drake for a dozen or so years, they might not have said that.”

“I know, sugar, but if you’re patient, just hang around here a little while, and maybe somethin’ will turn up nearby. It might be easier for the kids if you didn’t have to change neighborhoods, at least.”

Since Drake’s death, the master bedroom had been closed off. Now she had to go in there and sort out the remains of his life. She left the clothes to Dixie and Carlisle, while she bit the bullet and opened up his desk, filing cabinets, strongbox and safe. Although she had nurtured the secret hope that she would find some hidden stash that would take care of educations, at least, so far there was nothing. What she did find was debt, and evidence of stock trading. The market hadn’t been good to Drake, and he’d borrowed against his 401K and house. He bought on the margin, sold short and lost his shirt.

With Dixie and Carlisle helping, it didn’t take all that long to get rid of Drake’s personal effects, but going through his paperwork was something Nikki had to do on her own, and it would take more than a couple of days. Resigning herself to that fact, Nikki hunkered down for a long, hot summer in her ex’s house.

But after a couple of weeks, it became harder, rather than easier, to be at the house. Nikki took the kids out for most of their meals rather than cook in Drake’s kitchen. And no way could she move back into the master bedroom.

Then April said the magic words. “I hate being here because Dad died here. I wish there was a way we could start over completely.”

Oh, boy, was there ever. Nikki had the kids pack up their favorite things plus clothes, computer, books and games. She called the real estate agent and listed the house, and they all moved to Buck’s.

“As soon as it sells,” Nikki promised April and Jared, “we’ll get rid of the furniture and start over. Completely. New house, new furniture, new pots and pans. A new life for everyone.”

The only person in the family who wasn’t happy about the sale of the house was Opal. “I was so looking forward to coming back—I’ve always loved that particular guest room.”

Nikki made a note to find a house with a guest room that was not quite as accommodating.

Carlisle had stayed with Dixie for a month, and his restlessness was growing more obvious to her by the day. He was cooking special dinners and complaining that she didn’t have the necessary equipment for his gourmet cuisine. He kept tidying up rooms that were already immaculate, and often she noticed that he never turned the page on the book he was reading.

It was with some concern that Dixie prepared to leave Carlisle at home while she went to work a three-day trip. There was no question he was depressed. And Dixie’s house was not far enough away from Robert to give her any peace of mind. She tried to convince Carlisle to go somewhere for the weekend. Or maybe stay at Buck’s with Nikki and the kids.

“Oh, I couldn’t do that.”

“Why not?”

“You know. When it comes to housekeeping, they’re pretty…”

“Relaxed? Laid-back? Easygoing?”

Carlisle rolled his eyes. “More devil-may-care. Or perhaps Early Vandalism.”

She whacked him with a dish towel. “Stop. She’s not that bad.”

“She’s trying to be.”

“Well, just stay away from you-know-who while I’m gone.”

“Just worry about your own you-know-who,” he replied, making her fear the inevitable even more.

“Huh. I’m not even tempted,” she said, a little surprised that it was true. “And I hate to see you go through any more of those humiliating scenes.”

“But why? I’m so good at humiliation!”

As much as she loved him, Dixie conceded it was a good thing she was getting a little break. While she was preparing to transform her whole life, Carlisle appeared wretched. The situation at home was just getting too heavy. A couple of days away would do wonders for her, and she actually looked forward to the work.

She’d done a little trip trading to get a schedule better than the one she’d had while following Branch around, and she’d pulled a Phoenix-Seattle-San Francisco with a nice long layover the first night. She was looking forward to a little seafood dinner, and a cool ocean breeze as opposed to the desert heat.

But the Trip Gods had conspired against Dixie McPherson. She was supposed to be flying with Captain Danny Adams and F.O. Mike McGee. At least, that’s what it said on her printout when she checked in for her flight. But when she boarded and looked out at the ramp, the F.O. doing the preflight walk-around was not McGee. She’d know that long, lanky, arrogant swagger anywhere.

God, what kind of karma had her constantly drawn to men like Branch? Had she, in a former life, been a cruel queen who took young male paramours and then hacked them to bits once she’d had her fun? She hoped so. She sincerely hoped so.

Since Dixie wasn’t senior on the trip, she couldn’t escape first class, the hardest serving job on the airplane, which meant she had to serve the cockpit, as well as the cabin. Given her lack of desire to fraternize, it didn’t look as if the pilots would be well nourished this trip. But long before she could think about beverage revenge, he poked his head into her galley on his way to the cockpit. Branch Darnell, his hat sitting jauntily back on his head, a roguish grin on his lips, and there at his hairline, a devilish-looking bright red gash. Somehow the wound only added to his good looks, which was par for the course. Anyone else would have been disfigured.

The extent of his injury took some of the bluster out of her sails. She let out a long, slow breath and gave her head a slight shake. “Um, I’m awful sorry about that. It was completely unintentional….”

“Aw, don’t beat yourself up, darlin’. I like my women feisty.”

Her mouth fell open slightly and she stared at him for a stunned, silent moment. Then she said, “Oh, you can’t be flirting with me!” He gave a little shrug and headed for the cockpit. “I don’t believe it!” she said to herself.

Dixie took a few deep breaths, counted to ten and decided to fake composure until the urge to put a matching dent on the other side of his forehead passed.

She was a professional. She wouldn’t let a little thing like a ruined love affair and attempted murder prevent her from doing her job. She poured drinks, fluffed pillows, took dinner orders and spread good cheer through the first-class cabin. Until she heard his familiar silky drawl, she had almost forgotten how angry Branch had made her.

“Welcome aboard Flight 217 to Seattle, ladies and gentlemen. It looks like smooth skies and sunshine all the way to the Pacific Northwest, where you’ll find the temperature to be around sixty-five degrees. We’re cruising at thirty-one thousand feet and the seat belt sign is off. Now, if ya’ll are up and about, take care not to clog up the aisles. We don’t want to make life tough for our flight attendants, five of Aries Airlines’ most beautiful. They’re also the sweetest we got, so you just let them know if there’s anything you need. And when you’re sittin’ down, you keep that seat belt fastened. We thank you for choosing…”

Branch knew that she came from a family of overachievers who teased that “Dixie majored in beauty,” a line that always hurt her. He could have made that announcement to purposely needle her. Then again, it was just as likely he hadn’t listened to her when she’d bared her soul to him. Either way, it was a chancy thing he did, considering that in first class she had access to all those wine bottles and might just lose control and punch him in the stomach with one. Or maybe just whack him in the head to save time.

She settled her people with their food and their movie, then fixed up a tray with two meals and drinks for the cockpit.

Captain Adams greeted her. “Dixie, you must have read my mind…I was just wondering if there was any food.”

“Coming right up,” she said. “One beef, one chicken.”

“What’s your preference, Branch?” he asked.

The cockpit crew ate different entrées on the off chance there was tainted food on board. But it was the captain’s call and Danny was a gentleman. “Well now, let’s see.” Branch made a slow appraisal of each entrée. His answer should have been, “Whatever you don’t want, sir.” But instead it was, “Believe I’ll take the chicken, if that’s all right. I hate what a caterer does to good old Texas beef.”

“Thanks, Dixie,” Danny said.

“Captain, I have a small favor to ask, if you’d be so kind.”

“Sure thing. What can I do?”

“I’d sure appreciate it if you’d have a little chat with your second in command, sir, and tell him we’re not hired to be pretty or sweet. By FAA regulation, we’re trained to open the door of this 767 upside down, in the dark, underwater, and get the people out safely. And we’re mighty good at it, too.”

Danny chuckled. “Be happy to, Dixie,” he said, taking the tray from her.

The ride into Seattle was smooth and uneventful, and they were under way to San Francisco in no time. Because it was a good city for a layover and the layover was long, the whole crew was planning to go out together for dinner. This would definitely include Branch, who was very popular with the flight attendants. But before anyone even asked her, Dixie had an excuse ready. She was right in the middle of a very good book and would just grab a bite to eat at the hotel coffee shop or get a sandwich in the bar.

“Welcome aboard Flight 982 to San Francisco, ladies and gentlemen,” the Texan drawled in his lazy, sultry voice. He gave the weather, the cruising altitude, the instructions about seat belts. Then, unbelievably, Dixie heard, “You’re gonna want to stay out of the aisles while our flight attendants are serving. They might not be the prettiest we got here at Aries, but they can be mean as junkyard dogs. But you gotta admit, they’re workin’ like a pack a mules back there, aren’t they?”

Danny Adams had seen her come into the hotel bar at about nine o’clock, just in time to order dinner before the place stopped serving hot food. She had a book in her hand and took a corner booth with a hanging Tiffany lamp over the table. In her jeans and knit shirt, her usual fluffy blond hair pulled into a clip at the nape of her neck, she looked like a young girl, though he knew she must be at least in her mid-thirties.

So, she hadn’t gone out with the crew. Probably because of Branch. The first officer wasn’t specific, but Danny got the impression he and Dixie had had some sort of misunderstanding. Tiff. Lover’s quarrel?

At the age of thirty-eight, Danny had never been in a serious relationship. He was shy around women, which might be one explanation. Another would be height (short), weight (more than necessary), hair (very little) and general features—bland. Homely, he was homely. Each time he faced that reality, which was every morning as he shaved, he heard his mother’s voice: “Now, Danny, you are not! You’re simply average-looking, that’s all.” But Danny knew the truth—he was pretty ugly. His eyes were too small, his nose too big, no chin, large ears. His teeth were at least straight, thanks to Dr. Ward, with whom he’d spent the second Tuesday of every month for the majority of his adolescence.

Even though he’d known Dixie McPherson for years, Danny still felt that familiar old anxiety creeping over him at the thought of striking up a conversation with her in a social setting. He was great at work, especially as the captain in charge, but after hours he was a putz, and he knew it. Especially around a woman like Dixie. She was so incredibly beautiful, so poised and confident, so unattainable.

He was going to have to just suck it up and go to her, because he was on a mission. Picking up his glass of beer, he walked across the bar to her booth. “Dixie?” he said, looking down at her.

She glanced up from her book. “Hey, Danny. You didn’t go out with the others?”

“No, I’m more the quiet-evening type.”

“I’m sure your wife appreciates that,” she said, closing her book.

“Huh?” he answered, then laughed in amusement that she might think that. “I’m not married.”

“You sure? I hear that a lot and it’s usually not true.”

Without asking permission, he slid into the booth across from her. “Oh, man, do you? That’s terrible. No, I mean it—I’ve never been married. Or even engaged.” He cleared his throat. “Ah, Dixie, I owe you an apology. I had absolutely no idea Branch was going to make that PA about the mules. I told him I was going to check with you and see if you were planning to write it up. I’ll support you if you decide to. That was uncalled-for.”

“I’m not gonna write him up,” she said.

“He said you wouldn’t. You two must have had some kind of—Sorry, Dixie. It’s none of my business.”

“We were seein’ each other,” Dixie told him, then suddenly realized how Branch had contrived her silence—she had been protecting him by being discreet, not the other way around. Who cared if she was dating a pilot? She was single, over twenty-one. “He said he was going through a divorce. He was lying.”

It took Danny a moment to absorb that. His experience with the volatility of love affairs was limited to the movies. “Why do people do things like that?”

“To get laid, Danny,” she said with a note of irritation.

“I know, but I mean why?” Before Dixie could snap back, Orgasms, Danny, he said, “Doesn’t he know how lucky he is to have a wife, a family? Why would you threaten that? There are people in the world who would give anything to have what he has.”

And I’m one of them, came instantly to Dixie’s mind. She was saved from comment by the arrival of her food. “Have you eaten, Danny?” she asked.

“Yeah. A couple of hours ago.”

“Well, have a French fry so I don’t feel self-conscious eating alone.”

“Thanks,” he said, taking one. “I’m really sorry, Dixie. About all of it.”

Dixie gazed at him for a long, somber moment. She remembered what she had overheard the day of that fateful flight with F.O. and Mrs. Darnell. What did she expect? She’s such a ditz. “I have to take some of the responsibility. I didn’t check him out thoroughly, and I could have. I just believed him—the old smooth-talker.” She sighed. “Sometimes I’m just a ditz.”

He laughed outright. “You? Come on, Dixie, you were conned. It’s not your fault. You’re no ditz. I’ve worked with you a lot over the years. I know how smart you are.” He grabbed the book she had been reading. “John Adams by David McCullough. Jeez,” he laughed. “Who are you kidding?”

“I love John and Abigail Adams. Now, they were a real couple, a team. They checked everything with each other, gave each other advice and support. And that was not the typical way of marriages back then.”

“The last time I flew with you, you were reading The Lexus and the Olive Tree.”

Her eyes lit up. “That’s right! We had a big discussion about it! I forgot, you’re an avid reader, too.”

“Have to have something to do on these layovers,” he said, then instantly wished he could withdraw the remark. No point broadcasting to the world that he was always alone.

“Do you ever get so sick of this?” she asked. “Sometimes it’s hard, boring and just plain lonely.”

Dixie? Lonely? Not from what he’d witnessed. She always had someone to spend the night with when she was out on the road.

“I’ve wanted to fly since I was a little kid,” he said. “It gives me a rush every time. I still can’t believe they let me check out a hundred-and-sixty-ton 767 and take it out for a spin every time I come to work. It’s the one thing in life that never lets me down. In fact, it’s one of those things that when it’s a challenge, when it’s just a little bit scary, it gets even better.” He took another French fry off her plate. “Do you remember Joe Riordan? He was at Aries briefly, about twelve years ago—when the company was still pretty young and real small. In fact, he was responsible for a lot of the growth.”

“Sure I remember him,” she said. “But my friend Nikki knows him real well.”

“Yeah, Nikki would’ve known him—she did something in management. Training or something. He left here for TWA, closed that one down, consulted for a couple of years, and now he’s in Las Vegas starting a new airline.”

“Oh, so he’s certifiable?”

Danny laughed. “Actually, it’s not as crazy as you might think. The really big companies are having a hard time getting costs down—like Aries. The odds favor a new start-up to the old dinosaurs that are bleeding millions a day. I’m thinking of calling him. I’d love to get in on the ground floor of something new.”

She almost choked. “Danny! Are you crazy? You were in on the ground floor of this company.”

“Sort of. The company was a few years old, but we only had three jets. But, God, it was fun. We were a bunch of kids and scabs and crop dusters and ex-patriots…. We did anything we were told. We swept up, dispatched, hauled trash, washed planes, cleaned up the cabin after every flight. And every single one of us would have paid Aries to fly their planes. Now? Hardly anyone is happy. They complain constantly. They’d turn their backs on Aries in a second. I have a feeling this company isn’t going to make it.”

“But you’d start over? At your age? That’s a pretty big risk….”

“There’s only me,” he said, shrugging. “If I had a family to worry about, I might be more cautious…. Butthere’s only me. And I want to be in a place where I’m having a great time. Like I had when this outfit started.”