I wasn’t sure how to dress, and Gideon was out of town, so I just put on my nicest outfit and jumped in the car when it pulled up. I’m sorry my choice was inappropriate.”

Constance says, “We’re sorry, too, dear.” She pauses, then adds, “Sorry to hear this is your nicest outfit.”

Another guest, Marie, says, “When you arrived here this evening Charles and I thought Bellamy had hired a circus clown to entertain us.”

Jennifer, strangely silent during dinner, says, “Perhaps your sugar daddy will take you shopping tomorrow.”

Aiden says, “Trudy, the claws are out in full force tonight, I’m afraid. Personally, I’d love to hear more of your animal wisdom.”

Trudy smiles. “Thank you, Aiden.”

“Thank you, Aiden,” Bellamy says, in a mocking voice.

Trudy ignores her and says, “If you’re ever on the fence between buyin’ a mule and a donkey I’d choose the mule.”

The look on Aiden’s face says he’d fuck her right where she’s sitting if only someone would turn out the lights.

“Why the mule?” he asks.

“They can’t drown in quicksand. Donkeys can.”

He laughs heartily. “Not much quicksand in New York City. Or mules, for that matter.”

“Maybe not. But mules are the way to go. We’ve never lost a war when mules were used.”

“Are you talking about your family?” Olivia asks. “Like the Hatfields and the McCoys?”

“We’ve done our share of feudin’,” Trudy admits. “But I was talkin’ about the US of A.”

“Touché,” Aiden says. “But you’re in the Big Apple now, where your biggest critter issue is bedbugs. They’re insanely hard to destroy.”

“Not if you burn ’em with a hair dryer for thirty seconds. That kills ’em and keeps their eggs from hatchin’.”

“So,” Bellamy says. “You’re an expert on insects as well?”

“No, ma’am. I couldn’t claim that.”

“Surely you’re being modest.”

“No, ma’am. And I’m afraid I’ve been monopolizin’ the conversation. I’m sorry.”

“Nonsense!” Bellamy says, unable to control her anger. “I want to hear something we should know about insects. Something you consider useful, like mosquito fornication, or the outsized genitalia of fire ants.”

Again, all eyes are on Trudy, and I feel terrible for bringing her here. But she looks directly into Bellamy’s eyes and says, “Insects are a lot like high society people, Bellamy.”

“How so?”

“It don’t take too many bites at a picnic to figure out which ones are just plain mean-spirited.”

Bellamy pauses a moment, then comes off the couch in full attack mode. She lunges at Trudy, preparing to grab her hair and rip her clothes, but Trudy doesn’t flinch. She cocks her fist, waits for Bellamy’s momentum to bring her into range, then delivers a picture-perfect right cross that catches our angry hostess flush on the cheek and deposits her on her arrogant backside. Bellamy blinks twice, tries to stand, staggers, then trips backwards over an ottoman. As her head hits the floor, her legs go straight up in the air. Her skirt, the first victim of gravity, falls downward and covers her torso.

Are you picturing this?

Imagine you opened an umbrella and turned it upside down. In this example, the handle would be Bellamy’s legs.