"No. No, darling. It's different with us. We.... Did you see her? What she looks like? I could kill her." "Have I seen you? What do you really look like? Maybe there'll come a day when I'll really see you and want to kill you." "Gabby!" "Don't do that to me. Don't shame me now." "What do you want me to do?" "Don't be angry and hateful. I want you to be honest and kind to everybody. I want you to go in there and speak to her like Jordan Lennox.... Not like Roy Audibon." "Gabrielle," he said, "You're a great woman ... but I'm not a great man." He kissed her, then turned and re-entered the back room of the Baroque. Gabby followed him. He walked directly to Aimee's table and smiled down at her as pleasantly as he could fake. "Good evening, Aimee," he said. "Mind if we join you?" "Hi, Clarence," Aimee said. "Your friend deliver that coat and book?" "That's why I'm here. Have you got a minute?" "Sure." Lennox and Gabby sat down. As Lennox held Gabby's chair for her, Aimee darted her a look of hostility. "Taking it from the top," Lennox said. "My name isn't Clarence Fox. It's Lennox. Jordan Lennox." "Naughty, naughty!" Aimee said coyly. "Say, are you really the guy which writes that TV show like you said?" "Yes." "How about me? Popular with the big-shots. I should've asked for your autograph." Aimee glanced at Gabby. "This is Miss Gabrielle Valentine ... Aimee Driscoll." "Miss Aimee Driscoll," Aimee snapped. "Of course. I'm sorry." Lennox hesitated and finally forced himself to meet Aimee's eyes. He saw in them an anger that startled him. He'd been too drunk to notice that photograph of Aimee's father in her apartment, and even if he had noticed it, he wouldn't have seen the connection. No one knows what happened between Aimee Driscoll and her father. Anyone can guess, but it doesn't matter. The important result was that the particular chasm over which she walked her tight rope was an inescapable physical attraction for any man who resembled her father plus an uncontrollable hatred for him. Lennox hadn't gone to bed with Aimee that Saturday night. She was relieved, professionally, and infuriated, emotionally. She looked at him now with hatred and at Gabby with venom, completely unaware of what she was feeling or how she was showing it. "Sweet guy you are," she said archly. "Sweet guy ... making a sucker out of a poor working girl from the lower classes. You owe me ten bucks." "I do? What for?" Lennox was terrified of what the answer would be. "The doctor. I had to see him Monday on account of what you done to me. You practical jokers don't know your own strength." Aimee winked at Gabby. "Your boy friend's a funny guy with a Christmas tree, Gabrielle. We had a million laughs. He tell you?" "No," Gabby said quietly. "I guess he wouldn't at that." "Do you want to tell me, Aimee?"