Patrick was as good as his threat: the centrepiece of the buff at the party was a large cake in the shape of a rather portl bear, complete with a fine set of fangs and a lascivious pink I It inevitably invited questions; and Patrick directed all enquiries ~ who was then obliged to tell the story of the attack a dozen time pressing it with every repetition until it was honed to the impr~ casual: Sure, I got chewed up by a bear.

'Why didn't you tell me?' Drew said, when the information ha( its way around the room to him. 'I thought you'd got the scars in s But Jesus, a bear!' He couldn't resist smiling. 'That's really some

Will claimed the slice of chicken and artichoke pizza Dre devouring and finished it up.

'Are you trying to tell me something?' Drew said. 'Like stop eat?'

'No.'

'You think I'm too fat, don't you? Admit it.'

'I think you're just fine,' Will said patiently. 'You have my pen to eat every slice of pizza you can get your sticky fingers on.'

'You're a god,' Drew said, and returned to the buffet table.

'Are you two picking up where you left off ?'

Will looked up around and there was Jack Fisher, elegant as eve a brooding white boy in tow. There were the usual hugs and h. before Jack got round to introducing his friend. 'This is Casper. He believe I know you.'

Casper pumped Will's hand, stumbling over some words of adm 'You were one of my idols when I was a kid,' he said. 'I mean, sh; stuff's so real, you know? I mean, it's the way things are, isn't fucked up?'

'Casper's a painter,' Jack explained. 'I bought a little erection He only paints dicks. Don't you, Casper?' The boy looked a lit comfited. 'It's a small market,' Jack said, 'but it's devoted.'

'I'd love to ... maybe show you some of my work some time,' said.

'Why don't you go get us a drink?' Jack said. Casper frown clearly didn't want to play the waiter. 'And I'll persuade Will to painting.' Reluctantly, Casper departed. 'They're pretty good, ac

Jack said. 'And he means what he says, about you being an idol of his. Sweet, isn't he? I'm seriously thinking of taking him off to Louisiana and settling down with him.'

'You'll never do it,' Will said.

'Well, I'm certainly over this fucking town,' Jack said wearily. He lowered his voice a little. 'The truth is, I'm sick of sick people. I know how that sounds, but you know me, I call it the way I see it. And I've got more scratched-out addresses in my little book than I care to count.'

'How olds Casper?' Will said, watching the fellow weave back towards them with two glasses of scotch.

'Twenty. But he knows all he needs to know.' Fisher grinned conspiratorially, but Will looked away. He didn't want to leer over this kid who for all Jack's domestic talk would be out on his ass, fucked and forgotten, within a month.

'You must drop in at the studio,' Jack said, picking up the hype now that Casper was back within earshot. 'He's doing a whole series of sperm pieces next-' He stopped in mid-sentence. 'Uh-oh,' he murmured, his gaze going to the door, where a striking woman in her fifties, dressed in flowing grey, had just made an entrance. She surveyed the thirty or so guests somewhat imperiously, then, spotting Patrick, headed directly over to him. He left off his conversation with Lewis, who was using the event to circulate a very slim volume of his poems, and went to greet her. She lost her regal manner as Patrick hugged her, kissing his cheek and laughing raucously at something he said.

'Is that Bethlynn?' Will said.

'Yep,' said Jack. 'And I'm not in the mood, so you're on your own. Just don't let her have the ruby slippers.' With that, and a sly smile, he made himself scarce, Casper in tow.

Will was fascinated, watching Bethlynn chat with Patrick. He was hanging on her every syllable, no doubt of that; his body language suggesting an uncharacteristic meekness on his part. He nodded now and again, but had his eyes downcast a lot of the time as he listened intently to her wisdom.

'So that's her,' Adrianna had sidled up to Will, and was casually attempting to scrutinize the pair while she nibbled a piece of polar bear icing. 'Our Lady of the Crystals.'

'Does anybody like her?' Will said.

'This is the first time any of us have even seen her. I don't think she descends to the mortal plane very often, though Lewis claims to have seen her shoplifting egg-plants.' She guffawed behind her hand at this unlikely vision. 'Of course, Lewis is a poet, so his testimony doesn't really count.'

'Where's Glenn?'

'Throwing up.'

'Too much cake?'

'No, he gets nervous when he's around a lot of people. He thinks they're all looking at him. It used to be that he thought they were looking at his ears but since he got his ears fixed he thinks they're trying to work out what's different about him.' Will tried to suppress a laugh, but failed. It erupted from him so loudly that Patrick looked up and at him. The next moment he was leading Bethlynn across the room. Adrianna pressed a little closer to Will's side, to be sure she was included in the introductions.

'Will,' Patrick said, 'I'd like to introduce you to Bethlynn.' He was beaming like a schoolboy. 'This is so great,' he said. 'The two most important people in my life-'

'I'm Adrianna, by the way.'

'I'm sorry,' Patrick said. 'Bethlynn, this is Adrianna. She works with Will.'

Close up, Bethlynn looked a good deal older than she'd first appeared, her highboned, almost Slavic features etched with fine lines. Her hand, when she took Will's, was cool, and when she spoke her voice was so low and husky Will had to lean closer to hear what she was saying. Even then he only caught:

... in your honour.'

'The party,' Patrick prompted.

'Pat's always been a master at throwing shindigs,' Will said.

'That's because he's a natural celebrant,' Bethlynn replied. 'It's a sacred quality.'

'Oh, is giving parties sacred these days?' Adrianna chipped in. 'I hadn't heard.'

Bethlynn ignored her. 'Patrick's gifts burn more brightly every day.' The woman went on, 'I see it. Manifest.' She glanced around at him. 'How long have we been working together?'

'Five months,' Pat replied, still beaming like a blessed acolyte.

'Five months, and every day burning brighter,' Bethlynn said.

Out of nowhere, Will heard himself say: 'Living and dying we feed the fire.'

Bethlynn frowned; narrowed her eyes as though she was listening to the echo of Will's words to be certain she'd heard them right. Then she said: 'What fire do you mean?'

Will was of half a mind to withdraw the remark, but if the man who'd coined it had taught him anything, it was the importance of speaking up for your beliefs. The trouble was, he didn't really have an answer. This phrase, which had dogged him for three decades, was not readily explicable, which was perhaps why it had proved so tenacious. Bethlynn, however, wanted a reply. She watched Will with her big grey eyes, while he floundered.

'It's just a phrase ...' he said. 'I don't know. I guess it means ... Fire's fire, isn't it?'

'You tell me,' she said.

There was a distinct smugness in her scrutiny, which irritated him. Instead of letting the challenge slide, he said:

'No, you're the expert on burning brightly. You've probably got a better theory than me.'

'I don't have theories. I don't need them,' Bethlynn said. 'I have the truth.'

'Oh, my mistake,' Will replied. 'I thought you were just flailing around like the rest of us.'

'You're very cynical, aren't you?' she said. 'Very disappointed.'

'Thanks for the analysis, but-'

'Very hurt. There's no shame in admitting it.'

'I'm not admitting to anything,' Will replied.