“I wasn’t called up.”

“Then maybe you should just shut the fuck up.”

Marybell interrupted. “I think that’s enough about Jasper and Cam.” She turned to a congressman from New York sitting next to her. “I see that your city has banned discrimination against homosexuals. Are you in favor of that?”

The conversation turned to gay rights, and Cameron relaxed—too soon.

A question was asked about legislation in other countries, and Suzy said: “What’s the law in Poland, Lidka?”

“Poland is a Catholic country,” said Lidka. “We have no homosexuals there.” A moment of silence ensued, and she added: “Thank God.”

• • •

Jasper Murray left the Lindeman house at the same time as Verena Marquand. “Suzy Cannon is a real troublemaker,” he said as they went down the steps.

Verena laughed, showing white teeth in the lamplight. “That’s the truth.”

They reached the sidewalk. The taxi Jasper had ordered was nowhere in sight. He walked with Verena to her car. “Suzy’s got it in for me,” he said.

“She can’t do you much harm, can she? You’re such a big shot now.”

“On the contrary. There’s a serious campaign against me in Washington right now. It’s election year, and the administration doesn’t want television programs like the one I did last night.” He felt comfortable confiding in her. They had been thrown together the day they watched Martin Luther King die. That sense of intimacy had never really gone away.

Verena said: “I’m sure you can fight off a gossip attack.”

“I don’t know. My boss is an old rival called Sam Cakebread who has never liked me. And Frank Lindeman, who owns the network, would dearly love to get rid of me if he could find a pretext. Right now the board is afraid they’ll be accused of biasing the news if they fire me. But one mistake and I’m out.”

“You should be like Suzy, and marry the boss.”

“I would if I could.” He looked up and down the street. “I ordered a taxi for eleven o’clock, but I don’t see it. The show won’t pay for limousines.”

“Do you want a ride?”

“That’d be great.”

They got into her Jaguar.

She took off her high-heeled shoes and handed them to him. “Put these on the floor on your side, would you?” She drove in her stockings. Jasper felt a sexy frisson. He had always found Verena devastatingly alluring. He watched her as she pulled into the late-night traffic and accelerated down the street. She was a good driver, if a little too fast: no surprise there.

“There aren’t many people I trust,” he said. “I’m one of the most well-known people in America, and I feel more alone now than I ever have. But I trust you.”

“I feel the same. I have since that awful day in Memphis. I’ve never felt more terrifyingly vulnerable than the moment I heard that shot. You covered my head with your arms. A person doesn’t forget something like that.”