Glenna was breathtaking in a long, clingy crimson-velvet dress, and I stood near the front door with her. She introduced me to guests as they came in, saying, “This is my boyfriend, Gordon,” which, along with my new assignment, made me less nervous about being around the med students and doctors.

Soon, people were pouring in, and with the stereo blasting and the air clouded by a reefer-and-hash smog and Day-Glo balloons bobbing above the crowd, I felt as if I were backstage at the Fillmore. The black lights gave the faces a twilight-zone tan, and in the hot, noisy press of bodies I got separated from Glenna and wandered back to the alcove, where a merry circle was seated around the water pipe.

“Having fun?” I said to Robin, sitting on the cushion next to her. Her dark eyes and flowing raven hair brought to mind an Indian princess, but she had swapped her standard bleached-denim overalls for a billowy, tiger-striped jumpsuit, which made her look like a young, man-eating Buddha.

“You’re bored,” she replied, dipping a spoon into a quart of Breyers butter pecan. “Guys are only interested in me if they’re bored.”

“No mint chocolate chip?”

She chuckled. “Mint chocolate chip’s too fattening.”

Someone on my left passed me a stem, and I did a few tokes of the hash.

“You’re being très cool, Meyers,” Robin said, feeding me a spoonful of ice cream.

“About?” I asked, passing the stem back to my left.

“About being here with all these strangers and knowing Glenna invited her ex-boyfriend. Especially a guy like Rick Siner. He’s going to be an orthopedic surgeon, tools around on a Harley, and could win a Tony Curtis look-alike contest.”

My rush of jealousy wasn’t slowed by the opiated hash. I remembered Glenna mentioning Rick; he was the one who had recommended that she buy me Henry James’s Portrait of a Lady. I felt like Glenna had suckered me. She knew the party was freaking me out, so what was the purpose of inviting him?

“You knew, didn’t you?” Robin asked.

I lied and said yeah, when the truth was that I’d avoided asking Glenna about her past because there was no percentage in asking any woman about that stuff, particularly a real looker who was an acrobat in bed. My philosophy was simple: better to enjoy the skills Glenna had learned than to worry about where she had learned them.

Robin said, “Different strokes for different folks, Meyers. But it would bother me.” She stood up, then nodded toward the front door. “See, Rick just came in.”

I stood and saw a Tony Curtis double in a belted suede jacket, and he had one arm draped over Glenna’s shoulders. Before the adrenaline stopped surging through me, Glenna was looking over at the alcove. She said something to Rick and slid out from under his arm as they walked toward us.

I was less philosophical now, and Robin must have noticed, because she said, “Relax, Meyers. I got a secret for you.”