Rich just stared at me through this whole thing. I could tell he was thinking carefully about his next words. “Dani, have you ever thought that maybe you should be a bit more careful what you say out loud?”

“What are you talking about?” I asked. “What’s wrong with what I’m saying?”

“Well, I’ve noticed you make a lot of borderline racial remarks.”

“What? I’m not a racist! I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“It’s just, here you are talking about the guys next door, who you think are going to blow something up just because they’re Middle Eastern. I’ve heard you say that when your friend Ina gets her license she’ll be a typical terrible Asian driver, and you just said your apartment was beautifully renovated because your landlord was gay. All those statements could be interpreted as being ignorant, bigoted, or prejudiced.”

“Oh, come on! After 9/11 we were all looking closer at people around us. Shit, the government asked us to! And wouldn’t you think it was strange if a group of those guys lived next door to you and then one night they up and moved out . . . totally disappearing?” I heard my voice rising. “And the Asian-driver thing is a fact—everyone knows they can’t drive worth shit. I have a lot of Asian friends and they all acknowledge this.”

Rich was looking at me patiently. He knew he wouldn’t be able to stop me.

“And what’s so terrible about saying gays have a great sense of style?” I went on. “Queer Eye for the Straight Guy was a ratings bonanza!” I held his gaze, waiting for him to agree with me, but he didn’t. I pressed on. “Gay men have a particularly keen eye for detail that naturally lends itself to home remodeling and dec

orating.”

Rich just sighed.

“Wait, tell me,” I said, “have you ever done a lookiloo at a home or an apartment, and when the Realtor told you a gay couple had lived there and done all the work—didn’t it make you feel a little more secure?”

Rich regarded me inscrutably.

“It’s a positive thing, what I’m saying. And it’s only racist if it’s not true, and all the stuff you’re throwing in my face now is true.”

Rich moved toward the door. “Dani, I’m here to check out where you live and make sure you’re safe. We’ll save the Anti-Defamation League conversation for another time, okay?”

I backed down. “Okay.”

“Now, how about dinner?”

“Tonight? Are you kidding me? Don’t you figure someone like me has plans on a Saturday night?”

He just kept looking at me. “Would you like to have dinner with me tonight?”

I smiled. “Let me grab my keys; I’m driving.”

“Deal.”