I had seen Hillary’s new pad during Drew and Eric’s commitment ceremony, but had yet to be personally invited--- until today. I drove along an exclusive street hidden away in the Franklin Hills, probably unknown even by natives of Los Angeles. Shaded by engulfing green trees and flowering hedges in red, yellow, and blue, I thought of the rest of my night with Betsy.

After drinks at the Formosa we headed over for world famous hot dogs at Pinks. We sat in the back and smiled at each other as we quickly gave up trying to eat the dogs politely. I had a second, Betsy had an order of fries. “So what’s there to do in this town with a young cute lad like yourself?”

Her aggressiveness excited me. “Movie?” She shrugged no. “A walk down the promenade?” Again, no was her answer. “Dessert at a fancy restaurant?” Her eyes lit and we headed for The Ivy.

Two ice cream sundaes later we were completely indulged. “I had better get you home.” (we had dropped off her car earlier.) She sulked appropriately, then said, “I suppose it’s got to happen sometime.”

She was laughing hysterically when I pulled up in front of her dilapidated apartment building. Teasingly, as soon as I put the car in park, she tried to get out. Quickly, I pulled her back in, “I don’t think so.”

“What?!” Still laughing.

“I want some of that.”

“Some of what?”

My lips pressed against hers. I hadn’t felt this warm in a long time. “You want to come in?” She said, pulling away. Knowing I wouldn’t be able to take my hands off her, I regretfully rejected, but told her I’d be back the following Saturday night to get her at eight. She neither declined nor accepted, but ran into the house.

Just thinking of this night had me excited as I entered Hillary’s extraordinary driveway. Bricked, shaded, and private. It was obvious this sugar daddy of hers must be one wealthy son of a bitch.

I suggested she have another party as she hugged me hello. “Too many things going on to host anything, but maybe when I’m all done.”

“Done?”

“You want some coffee? I just made some.” Of course I did.

Later inside Hillary began to tell me why my presence was requested. “My surgery’s in 4 days.”

“So you’re going to go through with it.”

“Goddamn it, you sound like Greg. He’s against it too, you know.”

“I don’t know if I’m against it. I just don’t understand it.”

“I don’t expect you ever will. Anyway, I’ve called you here for your help--- not your judgment. Since you’re the one closest to Steve, I was hoping you would be able to go visit him after the surgery and inform him how everything went.”

“I don’t want to seem rude, but I think you give him way too much credit.”

“I want him to know because although he gives off this tough facade, I think he’s very sensitive and if something were to happen...”

“Nothing’s going to happen.”

“I know, but I’ve taken care of that, too. I’ve appointed you executor of my will and Steve’s financial reward is…well, large. He is my son.”

“Hillary, I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“You don’t want to be executor?”

“I don’t want to be responsible for him especially after he inherits God knows how much money, which I think is a very bad idea. Did you talk to Hawthorne about this.”

“It’s none of his business. Please honor my wishes. There’s no one else who knows the details about Steve or me. Besides, I trust you.”

I hate when people say that. What are you supposed to say, don’t trust me?