“You can’t stay here,” Donna had said, not very politely. He could picture her in her designer sweats, always overexercising. Her life was a series of downward dogs and extra miles. She’d saddled her daughter, Bee, with a complex about her looks and weight, which is why he’d always tried to build her back up with compliments when he’d visited during her teenage years.

Hearing Donna’s voice made him regret RSVP’ing at all. “I wasn’t going to stay with you,” Joe had answered defensively.

“We have Matt’s parents in the guest room—Matt is Bee’s fiancé—and we have my parents in Bee’s room. We don’t have any extra beds.”

“I reserved a room at one of the inns, Donna, and I know who Matt is. You don’t have to tell me who my niece is marrying.”

“Fine, then. And, Joe, I’m just reminding you that the wedding is black tie.”

Joe grunted. “Donna, it says ‘black tie optional.’ I have a nice suit. It’ll be fine.”

“Just make sure you look presentable.”

Joe resented Donna’s reminder—as if he’d ever looked less than presentable in her presence. He might be a man who had married and divorced too young, lived in “Sin City,” and had a daughter he barely saw, but he could certainly dress himself. In fact, dressing himself had always been one of his special skills. Joe’s brother, Richard, was like their father—a man whose wardrobe consisted mainly of nondescript brown pants and ill-fitting suit shirts. But Joe had always costumed himself like a catalogue model. He was something of a clotheshorse, with a walk-in closet lined with well-tailored suits and stylish shoes. He fit right in on the Vegas strip, but whenever he visited family on the East Coast, he realized that most people—the kind of people who lived in the suburbs and had desk jobs—were comfortable dressing as if they worked in a bank.

Women loved Joe’s fashion sense, which was convenient, because Joe loved women. Joe usually preferred to hit on out-of-towners, and on any given day there were thousands to choose from.

His small company serviced about forty-two gambling-district restaurants, most of which were in hotels. He spent the majority of his afternoons visiting with restaurant managers about supplies, and would usually stay for a free meal, which he’d eat using the silverware he’d ordered specifically for the establishment.

After his work was over for the day, he’d wander out to one of the hotel bars, where he’d talk up a pack of single women on a bridesmaid getaway or, come spring, students on break.

About once every two months he’d fly to Reno. That’s where most of his new business came from. Almost a dozen new restaurants that popped up during the recent housing boom had signed with his company, desperate for high-end sets of forks, knives, and metal chopsticks.

Joe’s business partner was a friend from college who’d given him a sales job when Joe realized he’d have to pay child support to his pregnant ex. Joe was good at convincing people to buy things and wound up making his friend more money than either of them thought possible. Within a year, his friend made him partner.