"That's the dirtiest thing you've ever said, Molly Rutledge."

"I think it is," she says, reflecting. "I liked saying it."

"What a shame we're both married," I say.

"We might be, Leo," she says, "but I'm not a lunatic on the subject."

"And I am?"

"You and Starla don't exactly have a traditional marriage," Molly reminds me. "She stays with you awhile, starts to lose it, goes off the deep end, and bang, she disappears again."

"I knew what I was getting into."

"Did you really?"

"No. I had no idea what I was getting into," I admit.

"Neither did I."

"Molly, you're married to one of the most successful lawyers in the city. He's from one of the oldest, most distinguished families in Charleston. You were destined to marry Chad Rutledge the day you were born."

"It's a pretty story." Her voice contains a dissident quality I've not noticed before. "But not a true one." She takes a chair opposite me. "Chad was sick of me a long time before we married. You know it, I know it; all of my friends know it. And most tragically, Chad knows it."

"Everyone who knows you is in love with you, Molly. Everybody knows that. Even Chad."

"Sweet Leo." She smiles. "But you don't lie well. Forget it. Let's talk about pleasant subjects, like tonight. Do you think any of us will ever get over what happened tonight?"

"The whole thing caught me by surprise," I say. "I didn't know that bad blood could run so deep. Or for so long."

"That wasn't bad blood." Molly fingers the rim of her wineglass. "That was hatred-of the Shakespearean variety. Sheba was a lot of things when we knew her, Leo, but she was never mean. It's her kindness everyone remembers most."

"I still believe in that kindness."

Betty comes charging up the back stairs carrying the first platter of steaks. She places the food on the large kitchen table, where the Rutledge family eats most all of their meals, then walks directly to the bar. "How can you two lovebirds sit around flirting after that scene? This shit ain't right. Give me a glass of white wine. This is what I get for hanging around you white folks. I like it better in the damn ghetto. We get that mad, we just shoot each other. Leo, honey, I never knew you had a brother. You've always seemed like an only child."

"I should've told you," I say. "It's hard for me to talk about Steve. And I don't think I'd know him if he walked into this room tonight."

"I'm getting worried about Ike," Betty says. "He's been there putting Sheba to bed for a long time."

"He'll be in soon," I say. "Thanks for helping get my mother to the car. I was too paralyzed to move."

"The monsignor did the real dirty work. I've never seen your mother so shaken up. But the good reverend was making fine use of his golden tongue. I got to hand it to the man: he's got a line of bullshit you could take to the bank. He sounds just what you think God would sound like if God was a Roman Catholic-which He sure as hell ain't."

"His sermons pack the cathedral," I say.

"And what an operator he is." Betty sits beside me and grabs my knee with one hand while sipping her wine with the other. "Before I came back to the house, the monsignor asked if Sheba could get four front-row tickets to A Chorus Line A Chorus Line on Broadway next month. What's Sheba got to do with Broadway?" on Broadway next month. What's Sheba got to do with Broadway?"

Molly says, "She slept with one of the producers of the show for a while. At least, that's what I read in People." People."

"You subscribe to People?" People?" I ask. I ask.

"Doctor's office," Molly says. "A guilty pleasure, but a pleasure nonetheless. And it's how I keep up with our girl Sheba."

"I've always wondered what you South of Broad girls read," Betty says. "I'm talking about the real reading-when you're on the commode. I used to think all you white girls jacked off when Southern Living Southern Living came in, then you couldn't wait to get out to the gardens to plant dahlias and sweet peas and shit." came in, then you couldn't wait to get out to the gardens to plant dahlias and sweet peas and shit."

"Dinner is served," Niles calls out as he and Fraser bring in the remaining platters of T-bones along with potatoes and onions wrapped in aluminum foil.

The emotions that spilled out during the evening have left us famished. We have already half-finished the steaks by the time Ike comes in through the back door with worry lines furrowing his handsome brow.

"You get Sheba to bed, honey?" Betty asks.

"I should've come out to help," Molly says.

"Yeah, you should've," Ike says. "All of you should've. But not one of you did."

Fraser says, "Why do you say that, besides making us feel guilty as hell?"

"Sheba thought you were taking sides," Ike explains. "Choosing Dr. King over her."

"Both were jerks," Niles says. "I didn't feel like choosing."

"Let me fix you a drink, Ike," Molly says, rising out of her chair.

Ike washes his hands at the sink, considering Molly's request. "I think I'll have a Cuba libre."

"Rum and Coke," Fraser says. "I haven't heard of that since high school."

"My husband, Che Guevara," Betty says.

"Your husband, Pontius Pilate," Niles says. "Would you quit washing your hands?"

"Our girl's in trouble out there. Bad trouble," Ike says. "Sheba passed out in the bathroom. I went in there and found cocaine all over the floor, everywhere. I flushed two bags of it down the pot. She had a nosebleed that I had trouble stopping."

"You should have called us to help," I say.

"You should've arrested her," Betty says. The rightness of her words and their careful delivery shock the room into an edgy silence. "If you'd found a brother or a sister living in the projects with that much cocaine, they'd be in jail now."

"I thought about all that," Ike tells her. "Thought about everything. It'd've been the right thing to do. Except for us ... all of us. Our past together. I decided to honor that instead of my badge."

Fraser says what the rest of us are thinking. "You could get fired, Ike. Right before you take over as chief of police. It'd be the biggest scandal in years."

"It'd make a great column, though," I say. Every eye in the room flashes toward me with unabashed hostility. "That is one of the drawbacks of having a world-class sense of humor: my literalist friends take me seriously when I've delivered my most hilarious line."

"Why is Sheba here?" Molly asks. "Did she tell you why she came back, Leo?"

"I think it's Trevor," I say. "I think something's happened to Trevor."

"Did she tell you that?" Fraser asks. "Or are you just guessing?"

"His name hasn't come up once," I say. "I find that strange."

"When's the last time you heard from Trevor?" Niles asks. "When did you get that postcard, doll baby?"

"Over a year ago," Fraser says. "He was visiting the Monterey Aquarium with his boyfriend of the month. He sent a card with a sea otter on it. But he'd drawn a picture of a huge dick on the otter."

"That's our boy," Molly says.

I say, "Trevor called me last year at about this time. He needed to borrow a thousand bucks. Some emergency. But he didn't tell me what it was."

"He borrowed a thousand from us too," Molly says. "I don't remember when it was, but it was a while ago."

"Did you idiots send him a thousand bucks?" Betty asks.

"Of course," Molly and I answer at the same time.

"What's our boy borrowing money for?" Ike says. "He's always made a great living playing the piano."

"The news isn't good for San Francisco," I say. "Especially in the gay community."

"Trevor's gay?" Fraser says it in an exaggerated Southern accent while fanning herself with her napkin.

"Do you remember when you brought Trevor out to my grandmother's house on Sullivan's Island, Leo?" Molly asks me. "I was sunbathing in my bikini. Leo and Trevor came walking down the path to the beach. Trevor took one look at me and said in that amazing voice of his, 'Molly's so lovely, Leo. It almost makes me wish I were a lesbian.' I'd never heard anybody talk like him. He and Sheba were originals. I don't think Charleston's seen anything like them before or since."

"Remember his phone calls?" Niles asks. "I dreaded answering when I heard Trevor on the other end of the line. He could talk for hours."

"It was impossible to get the little son of a bitch off the phone," Betty agrees. "He could talk about nothing and make it sound like the most interesting thing in the world."

"You think Trevor could have AIDS, Leo?" Fraser asks.

"Trevor's neither celibate nor cautious," Molly says.

"If he doesn't have it, it'll be a miracle," I say.

"It's not just San Francisco," Ike says. "It's come to Charleston to stay. I got two cops with it."

"We've got gay cops in the city?" Fraser asks.

"We've got everything in this city," Ike tells her.

Fraser thinks about it for a moment, then says, "When I was growing up, I thought the world was composed of white people and black people, and that's all I knew for certain."

"We were the girls of Charleston," Molly says. "They raised us to be the most charming of idiots. We're the sweet confections, the sugar dumplings who are the pride and joy of a dying society. I don't think my parents even know they were coconspirators in the scheme to erase my brain."

"I don't know about that," Betty says. "You white girls sure look like you live fine lives to me."

"But at what price?" Fraser asks. "The only thing that separates Molly and me from the girls we grew up with are the friends who are gathered here tonight."

"You're not a cliche, Fraser," Niles says. "That was a shallow creek you were fishing in when you decided to marry me. I wasn't on the A-list of too many debutantes the year we got hitched."

"Yeah, but I got the gold standard." Fraser smiles. "Though my parents still won't admit it." She then walks over and sits in her husband's lap. They fit together like two silver spoons, and kiss each other lightly on the lips.

"Damn, I'm glad your marriage worked," Ike says. "I almost died when Niles asked me to be one of his groomsmen."

"You almost died?" Betty says. "I was the first black bridesmaid in the history of St. Michael's Church." almost died?" Betty says. "I was the first black bridesmaid in the history of St. Michael's Church."

"Y'all looked so beautiful that day," Fraser says. "I think you were the two best-looking members of our wedding."

"What about Trevor and Sheba?" I ask.

"They don't count. Sheba was already famous. And Trevor was always the prettiest belle at the ball," Molly says. "Trevor's words, not mine."

"This won't surprise any of you," Fraser says. "My parents weren't very happy with our list of bridesmaids and groomsmen."

"But be fair, honey bun," Niles says. "Their real problem was your choice of a husband."

"You weren't their first choice," Fraser admits.

"Hell, mountain boy," Ike says. "I think Mr. and Mrs. Rutledge would rather have seen her marry me instead of you." Molly says, "I wouldn't go that far, Ike."

With that line, our group of friends, tested to the limit by this ferocious night, explodes with shared laughter, the way we always do when we gather together.

"Ike," Betty says, "let's tell the white folks how we felt going out to the wedding reception at Middleton Place Plantation."

"They're not interested in that crap, Betty."

"The hell we're not," Niles says. "I bet you didn't feel any weirder than I did. And I was the goddamn groom."

"You've got to remember the times," Betty says. "Before I met you white folks in high school, I thought all of you subscribed to the Ku Klux Klan Weekly Ku Klux Klan Weekly. What did I know? I thought it taught you how to sew better-looking Klan outfits for your menfolk. Gave you tips on how to make picnic baskets attractive before you and the family went out for a lynching."

"I miss those lynchings," I say. "They were the high points of my youth."

"Me and Ike drove out to the reception thinking we were going to be strung up on an oak tree. Sort of like dessert," Betty says.

"How horrible that you thought that," Fraser says. "Did the guests treat you well?"

"They treated us fine-like we were invisible," Ike contributes. "Only one time all night did anybody notice me. The wedding party had our own table, and I went to get everybody a round of drinks. I was carrying them back to our table on a tray when white folks started grabbing them one by one. They thought I was the help."

"Then Toad got drunk and asked me to dance," Betty says. "I said, 'Get away from me, you crazy cracker.' But Toad lifted me out of that chair and dragged me to the dance floor."

"Starla said she'd never talk to me again if I didn't dance with you," I tell her. "She kept kicking me under the table to dance with your sorry ass."

"That's when Starla asked me to dance," Ike says. "What a nightmare."

Fraser says, "I knew I had pushed the social limits of Charleston with my marriage. But I never thought I'd introduce interracial dancing to society."

"Trivia time," Niles says. "What was the song playing when the crackers and the colored danced for the first time under a Charleston sky?"

"It was a slow song," Molly remembers. "I tried to get Chad to dance with me, but he would have none of it."