At Popeye’s, they sat at a table near the water even though the simple act of sitting seemed impossible now that the coke was in full effect—she could practically hear the orchestra of synapses firing in her brain. The host smiled at Mitch when she handed him his menu. “Welcome back.” She left.

Sherri leaned forward. “Did she say welcome back?”

He flipped the menu open and pretended to inspect it. “I’ve been here a few days,” he said.

Sherri wanted to clean out her ears. She’d blown off Arthur and nearly cheated Roberta out of Gregg Allman for him, and he hadn’t told her he was in town? Wasn’t she the reason he was there? “Why didn’t you come find me sooner?”

“I did, all right? I asked around. You were busy working and I had stuff to do. What’s the big deal? I didn’t think you were one of those clingy girls. I thought you were cool. Really cool.”

“I am, I just, you know. I could have seen you.”

“I’m with you now, aren’t I?” He reached across the table and grabbed Sherri’s hand. “I flew halfway across the country to see your pretty face.” He leaned forward and kissed her on the nose, then the mouth. “Can’t you just appreciate that I’m here? We’re together now.” He tickled her under her arm the way he might tickle a little kid, and Sherri laughed loudly enough for all the people at the tables around them to turn and look. “Let’s have a good time.”

A good time? Those were magic words for Sherri, who’d already forgotten why she’d been upset. Coke was an independent drug, making her fall more in love with herself than with Mitch, free of the complicated and deep feelings she had for Arthur. She ordered a Cuba Libre. And another. After they ate, they wandered over to the bar. Soon Mitch was striking up conversations with people who seemed as impressed by him as Sherri was. He stood with his arm draped around Sherri’s shoulders and told people that his father had been nominated for an Oscar, and said that his family’s cook used to work as the cook for Elvis, and that he’d had to work in a zero-gravity chamber once when he worked on Battlestar Galactica. He was good at reading the crowd. He knew that his stories of Hollywood glamour would appeal to them.

“It must be so exciting in LA,” Sherri said. “The only thing that’s ever happened in East Troy was a visit from Grover Cleveland a hundred years ago.”