“You’re Tyson!” the supermodel says, a huge grin on his perfectly perfect face. He walks over to me, grabs my hand, and shakes it vigorously. “I heard about you! Sandy told us about you when we got back from Asia. You’re the supersmart guy, right?”

“Uh, I guess,” I say.

He leans in. “Did you know they don’t have fortune-cookie factories in Asia?”

He looks completely serious, so I nod. “Yeah. They’ve been determined to have been an American invention in the early part of the twentieth century.” Wow. I’m so glad I’m contributing to the madness.

“See?” he says to Paul over his shoulder. “What else have we been lied to about?”

Paul sighs. “Vince, I don’t think they meant it to be a malicious lie.”

Vince scowls, which makes him even hotter, if that were possible. “I’ll never trust the fortunes again.”

“Kori,” Paul says. “You’re looking smoking hot, as usual.”

“Thank you,” Kori says, blushing. “You like my hair?” She flicks it around her face and poses, batting her eyelashes.

“I do. It looks good on you long. You should let Sandy curl it for you tonight when we go out.”

“Maybe,” she says. I have a feeling her hair will be curled before day’s end.

Paul turns to Dom and his eyes go wide as he looks him up and down. “Holy sweat balls, Gigantor! Did you eat an entire orphanage when you got up this morning?”

Dom shrugged. “Better than raping a parrot.”

Paul narrows his eyes and turns back to Sandy. “You will pay for your crimes,” he says, going for sinister but coming up a bit short. It’s like being accosted by a puppy covered in bubbles.

“How many times have you threatened me,” Sandy asks, “in all the years I’ve known you?”

“You gigantic vagina,” Paul says. “I mean it this time!”

“I’m the vagina?” Sandy retorts. “I seem to remember the only pussy in this room is you.”

“You sure talk about vaginas a lot for gay guys,” Kori points out. “People might start to think you’re misogynistic or something.”

Paul waves him off. “Oh please. If you think that means I hate women, you really need to lighten the fuck up. It’s a joke. People who get offended that easily are probably the same people who complain on the Internet about everything under the sun.”

“Touché,” Kori says.

“Nice to meet you,” Vince says, shaking Dom’s hand. “You’re the cop, huh? I was going to be a cop once, until I realized guns make me queasy. If they let you be a cop and have, like, a sword or something, I’d totally be on board.”

“It’s almost time to eat, my pretties,” Sandy says. “If we can mosey on toward the table, mimosas will follow for those of age to have one.” He winks at me. “Don’t want you to get in trouble with your cop.”

“He’s not my cop,” I say, but no one is listening to me at all. It’s a mad, mad, mad, mad world.