“Wow! I don’t think I can top that. First of all, I got to thank the mayor for being here tonight. I want to thank my pals Denzel, Spike, and Will for their generosity in showing up for the next generation of African-American filmmakers. And most of all, this night would not be possible without our benefit chair, the talented and truly beautiful Samantha Acton. Maybe if we’re really lucky, she’ll sing something for us. Not only does she have perfect taste, she has perfect pitch. Get up here, Samantha.”

Samantha shook her head no. 50 Cent took the microphone. “Get up here, girl.” He began applauding and the room followed.

Samantha approached the microphone and whispered to Barry, “What should I do?”

“Sing,” Barry answered so the entire room could hear.

She looked around the room at the sea of white women dressed as rappers and beautiful black women in red-carpet glamour and felt herself losing her balance. She thought of running, but she saw enormous security guards at every exit. For a moment she had forgotten that the security for the evening would eat up a third of their profit.

“Sing,” Barry whispered to her again.

“Uh, well, since I’m dressed like Diana Ross, I guess I’ll sing Diana Ross.”

She began to sing in a slow, husky blues voice. “You can’t hurry love / No, you just have to wait / She said love don’t come easy / It’s a game of give and take.”

Clarice sat on a plush velvet love seat while Samantha sang. Her eyes scanned the room for Charlie. He seemed like such a nice man. If she had to stay any longer at this, it would have been nice to talk to him.

When Samantha finished singing, Barry took the microphone. “Brava! Brava!” The room whooped again with delight. Barry quieted the crowd. “Hey, New York. We’re still here! Let’s dance!”

As the band broke into a Supremes medley, Barry began dancing with Samantha. While listening to all of “Back in My Arms Again,” “Baby Love,” and “The Happening,” Clarice sat silently sipping a Perrier Jouët. She hadn’t eaten anything all night. Her stomach was too queasy for short ribs or curry, and she would wait until she got home and have a peanut butter sandwich.

Judy came up to her. “Clarice, your husband is such a great dancer! Do you two dance a lot?”

“Only when we travel.” Clarice kept her eye on Barry and Samantha, who had now joined the crowd to “get their freak on.”

“Albert’s worried there could be trouble when we leave. But I told him, it’s not like we’re on the Afghan-Pakistan border,” Judy continued.

At that moment, Clarice saw Barry take Samantha’s hand and leave the room.

“I’m sorry, what did you say?”

“Albert thinks we could get mugged or murdered. But I told him that’s racist.”