“It’s not just them,” Max went on. “Those people behind you have been staring at you the whole time and taking pictures of the back of your head with their phones. Price of fame, huh?”

“I have to go…somewhere,” Spencer said, getting up. People must have been talking about the fact that David Frieze had been sitting in their midst, because Scarlett saw many heads turn as Spencer passed through the room and out into the lobby.

“Sorry,” Max said when he was gone.

“Not your fault,” Scarlett’s mom said.

“I think I know that man over there,” Mrs. Amberson said, pointing to some random older guy in a suit, one of many random older guys in suits. “It’s going to bother me if I don’t find out from where. Excuse me.”

The Sutcliffes came over as they began their post-dinner circuit of the room and asked Scarlett’s parents to accompany them.

“You guys all right here for a minute?” Scarlett’s dad asked.

“Sure,” Scarlett said, speaking as the remaining senior Martin child.

“It totally wasn’t an accident,” Marlene said when they were gone. “When she hit you, right?”

“No,” Max admitted, sitting back in his chair like he owned the place. “She knocked me down.”

“What did you do?”

“Nothing,” he said.

“He’s lying,” Scarlett said.

“I had cancer,” Marlene said.

“What kind?”

“Leukemia.”

“Still have it?” he replied.

“No,” she said, playing with her mint leaves. “Were you lying about the thing about performing, too?”

“Yep,” Max said.

“Do you guys want some privacy?” Scarlett asked. This was mostly to Max, and was intended as a slight, but Marlene nodded.

“Why don’t you go find Spencer or something?” Marlene said.

“Fine,” Scarlett said, getting up, booted from her one place of safety in this whole room. “You two have a good time.”

“We will,” Max said. “I have lots of things to tell your sister.”

Marlene’s eyes glistened. She was in love. Scarlett’s night was complete.

Danse Macabre

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ACT V

A SPIES OF NEW YORK EXCLUSIVE!

WE LOVE A DEBUTARD WEDDING…as much as anyone else. Probably more than most. We love the spectacle of New York’s richest and dumbest making the tie that binds. Like all the royal families of the world, our Society Friends always fail to notice that constant inbreeding makes Mother Nature cross, and this amuses us. Also, they have open bars full of top-shelf booze.

EVERY ONCE IN A WHILE…we get a truly exceptional account of one of these anti-Darwinian extravaganzas. Our in-boxes were exploding with reports of such an occasion. It seems that on Saturday night, Charles “Chip” Sutcliffe III, age 18, celebrated his marriage to a certain Lola Martin, age 18.