“Honey, do you want to dance?”
She turned to face me, “Honey? when did you start calling me Honey? What happened to Punkin?”
“I’m sorry Punkin, I’m not thinking clear tonight.”
She took my hand. “I’ve noticed. Let’s go sit - talk.”

Suddenly, Gloria Tatum was standing in front of Demi. “Hello Demi,” she said, her voice dripping bile. “Where’s your moron brother tonight?”
Demi’s eyes flashed. “Steven is not a moron.”
“You sure couldn’t tell by looking,” Gloria said. “Everything he wears is black, black, black. You can tell him for me that he looks stupid.”

She may have been saved by her date, as he pulled her onto the dance floor. Demi was steaming. “That… that - if anyone earned the ‘B’ word Gloria would be her.”

I took Demi in my arms and we finished dancing to the waltz. I begged off for the next two dances, in truth, because I didn’t know what they were doing. Demi called it Rock and Roll.

Denny and Marilyn returned to their chairs, both were sweating profusely.