Normally I would say yes to a high school reunion, but I was still pissed about my sister's wedding. Thanks to Nathan's catastrophic visit to my parents' summer home, I was banned from bringing anyone home again.

So when Nathan asked me to go to his high school reunion that wasn't really a reunion, more like an annual summer cocktail party for all the alumni who had attended his prep school, I refused.

"Come on, pleeeease, it will be so much fun. It's at the Bel-Air Bay Club, there's an open bar, and there will be hot men." These were all valid arguments, but I wasn't giving in. I was seriously considering cutting him off for good.

"I'm not even sure I ever want to see you again," I told him.

"Don't say that!" he hissed. "It wasn't that bad, you're totally overreacting. I even got a thank-you card from your sister. She loved me."

I felt unsure about believing him, but it was so typical of my sister to help me not make a point.

"A thank-you card?" I asked. "Thank you for what? Ruining her wedding? How would she even get your address?"

"It was probably on the bottle of Valium I gave her," he replied. "She was a real wreck before she went down the aisle. I only gave her a half because she said she'd never done any before, but after the ceremony she wanted more, so I gave her the bottle."

Now I was fuming. How could I have missed the opportunity to pop pills with my sister who was purer than a Quaker? I was torn between being angry at Nathan and being proud of my sister for finally loosening up her sphincter. This was a girl who, when I was ten years old, used to wake me up after she got home from a party and whisper, " Chelsea, wake up. They had marijuana at the party and I didn't smoke any."

I'd roll over, crack my eyes open and say, "Why not}"

"Nathan, you are ridiculous, you have no respect for anyone. How many times have I been to your parents' house or on vacation and not only behaved myself but quoted actual verses from the Torah?"

"What if I pay you?" he asked.

I had always dreamed of being a professional escort but never thought that there was any real money in it. "How much?" I asked.

"Two hundred dollars," he offered.

I guffawed loudly and then pretended to choke. "Homo you don't!" I said. "That's not enough money to pretend I like you again."

"Please, please, just come with me, it will be fun, we can both meet people."

We had done this type of thing before, on numerous occasions. I would hit on a guy whom Nathan liked, and if he didn't respond to me, Nathan would move in. This way no one ever found out that Nathan was indeed a flaming homosexual, unless Nathan ended up sleeping with him, in which case he definitely knew. The problem with this approach was that Nathan was obsessed with huge lumberjack-type men, preferably with a pickup truck, so if the guy I came on to wasn't gay, I'd usually end up getting stalked and forced to make a quick getaway out the back entrance of some seedy bar.

"I'm not picking up guys for you," I said. "Not for two hundred dollars."

"These guys are all from my prep school, there won't be any dumb ones, I prooooomise," he said.

"You're dumb and you're going to be there," I reminded him.

"There's my girl. You'll do it?"

"Not for two hundred," I told him. "I'll need some other incentive."

"I'll buy you a dress, from wherever you want. "You get it and I'll reimburse you-no more than two hundred and fifty dollars."

"That sounds reasonable," I said in my best impression of a litigator.

I ended up spending less on the dress than the two fifty allotted me by my gay pimp because Barney's was having a 75 percent off sale, so I also bought a head scarf in case it became windy. It was actually a neck scarf, but I had seen J. Lo wrap her head with one and tie it at the nape of her neck, which split the silk into two different sections of flowing magic. The shade of my dress was a hot pink more accurately described as "summer whore" and the head scarf was cream with rings of citrus, lavender, and summer whore as well. I had never worn a head scarf publicly before and was looking forward to finally commanding the respect I deserved.

Nathan picked me up in a town car outside my apartment. He did this when he wanted to impress. He claimed he was just being responsible because we would be drinking, but considering he had been convicted of three separate DUIs, I knew better.

"Look at you!" he squealed as I made my way to the car. "Three words: beau-teee-ful!"

"Thank you," I replied with the cool air of an aristocrat. I wasn't giving in to him that easily; he was going to have to work for my forgiveness.

The Bel-Air Bay Club is located north of Malibu and overlooks the Pacific Ocean. Throughout the course of our ride, when I wasn't staring out the window I had rolled down to aid my scarf in a current of strong wind, I was reminding Nathan of how lucky he was to have a friend like me.

"You better drop this shit when we get to the party. I said I was sorry and sent a letter apologizing to your parents."

"Well, I hope you did. I am not allowed to ever bring anyone back there again!"

"Listen, I'm sorry and I know I drank too much, but let's focus on tonight," he said. "You could meet your future husband here. There are a lot of rich and successful young men who went to this school."

"I'm not that shallow, asshole. I don't need money," I said. "It's way more important for them to be good-looking."

We finally arrived at the front door of the club and the car slowed. "You are my girlfriend unless I tell you otherwise," he reminded me as our driver opened our door.

We checked in at the front and they gave us name tags. I wasn't about to ruin my ensemble with such a cheesy name tag, not to mention the blatant clash of color; the Magic Marker the woman was writing names with was fire engine red. I was already going out on a limb with the head scarf and didn't want anyone to think I was trying to one-up Sarah Jessica Parker.

I told the woman I'd put mine on my purse, and she said she'd prefer if I wore it on my dress. Then I told her I wasn't part of the alumni and that no one would be recognizing me anyway.

"That's not the point, dear. It's just better if everyone's names are displayed so that the lines of communication have already opened."

I thought maybe she was trying to be funny but then realized this was impossible to do without a sense of humor.

"What's your name, dear?" she said.

"Beulah. My name is Beulah," I told her.

Her eyes darted from mine to Nathan's, but he backed me up with a quick nod in her direction.

"How is that spelled?" she asked.

"Just as it sounds, B-e-u-1-a-h," I said. Then she ripped off the adhesive and stuck it right above my right breastplate. "I love your head ornament," she said with a closed smile.

"I love your personality!" I said with wide eyes and an open smile. I had used this look before when a bank teller at Wells Fargo had threatened to put a ten-day hold on a check from my father because my average balance was $3.56.

Nathan grabbed me by the arm and pulled me toward the patio. There were various food stations all around and two bars positioned at either end.

"I'll get us drinks, you find somewhere to sit," I told him. I went to the bar and ordered two Ketel One and sodas.

"Fourteen dollars, please," the bartender said.

"This isn't an open bar?" I asked.

"Only for well drinks," he told me. "The well vodka is Gordon's."

"Who's Gordon?" I asked him.

He half smiled at me, shrugging only one of his shoulders.

"Hold on," I said and ran over to Nathan. "Give me money, it's not an open bar. This party is starting out very badly, Nathan. Not so good, so far!" I intimated that an unhappy Chelsea would lead to unhappy times. He got the message.