For thirty-two minutes, everything was fine. We entered, her slightly in front, and were led to the table where Vince and Adeline already sat. They greeted us warmly, and we responded in kind. For thirty-two minutes, Suzanne acted normally; wordy and cosmic. Thankful for the invite. We both thanked them. The couples sat across from one another. Vince spoke and Adeline smiled. We listened and laughed when appropriate. Cocktails were served, menus were offered and declined. Vince would order for the table. For thirty-two minutes, the mood was bright, and I had nearly forgotten I was being blackmailed by one of them and had slept with two of them and was in considerable danger because of all three.

We spoke of frivolous matters; of changing seasons and food and music and recreation. We did not discuss work or relationships.

“I still remember your set here,” Vince said to Suzanne.

“You sang here?” I asked.

She looked down and suppressed as smile. “It was a long time ago.”

“It was fantastic,” Vince said.

“It was,” Adeline agreed.

“Swanky place,” I said.

“There was a time,” Vince said, “when Suzanne sang at least once a week in the valley. Always the classiest spots.”

It went on like this for thirty-two minutes, cordial and flattering and almost fun. The second round of drinks were served and the food was ordered—steaks for the men and seafood for the women. We talked and laughed and I didn’t think of the perils of my situation. I didn’t think of smuggling heroin. I didn’t think of Vince’s words, which hung in the air when they said them and kept me awake that night.

You’d be dead before you reached the station.

I didn’t think about it. For thirty-two minutes I drank martinis and ate beef tartare and didn’t think about it.

It started with Adeline. She sat across from me, and yet I hadn’t been worried about anything going wrong with her; I’d been focused on the one to my left. Adeline gave me eyes when we sat down, and again when she took a drink of her martini. That didn’t matter; no one saw. She brushed my shoulder once when she excused herself to use the restroom. That didn’t matter. She laughed at most everything I said, and winked at me once. That didn’t matter. None of this mattered, because neither Suzanne nor Vince saw it, and because I ignored it. I wanted to stare at her and yell—Cut that shit out!—every time she made contact. But I couldn’t. I just had to get through the dinner. And for thirty-two minutes I did.

In the thirty-third minute, Adeline touched my foot with hers beneath the table, and this time Suzanne saw it. It was a harmless, innocuous touch—less blatant than her other cues, could have even been an accident—but she saw it. She saw it, her face went blank, and she stared at me.

She spoke eventually, but at first she just stared. Vince was telling a story about a party years ago, recounting a pot- and whiskey-fueled happenstance. He laughed, Adeline laughed along and so did I. Suzanne stared, but he kept talking.

“You piece of shit,” she said, coldly looking straight into my eyes. “Are you serious?”

“Excuse me?” I asked.

Vince stopped his story. “Everything alright?” he said.

“No,” she said, still looking at me. “Not at all.”

Adeline said nothing. I said nothing. We stared at Suzanne and waited.

Vince surveyed the situation, then cleared his throat. He’d seen behavior like this before.

“Listen,” he started.

“No,” Suzanne said, and raised a hand. “This doesn’t concern you.” She looked at Adeline, who wore a nervous smile, then back at me.

“Actually,” Suzanne said, “perhaps it does.”

Vince cleared his throat to speak again, but before he could, she started yelling.

Bastard. Son of a bitch. Go to hell. All the classics, all out of virtually nowhere, all very loud. She yelled something at Adeline, too, but I couldn’t understand what it was. Something about a bitch. Her lovably eccentric demeanor was gone, and she just yelled, like a normal person. The fact that we were in a private room didn’t matter much; I could tell without looking the other patrons could hear it.

“Suzanne,” I said, trying to calm her, “you’re acting crazy.”

“Am I?” she shrieked. “Am I?”

“What are you even talking about?” I asked.

“Suzanne, honey,” Adeline said, “I don’t know what’s going on, but there’s no need to make a scene like this.”

“Oh fuck you,” she said, finally lowering her voice.

In the corner of her eye, I saw the beginning of a tear.

“Fuck both of you,” she continued. “Fuck all three of you.”

“Just what in the hell has gotten into you?” Vince asked in a hushed voice from across the table. He was becoming aggravated. His face reddened and he clenched his teeth. “You need to calm down.” He put extra emphasis on the last words, enunciating them slowly.

At that moment, three waiters entered the room with our entrees. The conversation ceased. Suzanne held her tongue, but tipped back her martini and gulped the rest of it.

“I’ll have another,” she said. “Ketel One, dirty.”

A waiter acknowledged her and they served our plates. In front of me was a twelve-ounce filet and asparagus. It looked impressive and smelled delicious. I wouldn’t be able to appreciate it.

“We’ll all have another round, actually,” Vince said, and the servers left to fetch the drinks.

As soon as they left, she started again.

Asshole. Whore. The words flew around the room and crashed into each other.

“Did you know about this?” she asked in Vince’s direction.

“Jesus, Suzanne. About what?”

“Of course you don’t,” she said. “Why would you? You’ve never seen what’s beneath the surface. You never have.”

She kept going, plowing straight ahead, spewing out half-sentences and disconnected thoughts that made little sense. It scared me, both the way she was acting and the fact that she knew the truth. She could ruin me. She could take me down right there. She was trying.

I looked across the table at Adeline. She wore a blank expression, neither engaging nor concerned. Simply watching the train wreck. A spectator. When I caught her eye, she turned her head and, ever so slightly, winked at me. The woman actually winked at me. That was when I knew she was insane.

The drinks arrived and the conversation again ceased. Uncomfortable silence hung in the air as the waiter placed martini glasses in front of each of us—mine next to my last drink, still half full.

“You’re seriously that stupid?” Suzanne continued once they left. “These two…”—she pointed to Adeline and I—“…have been together. Intimately. They have us fooled.”

Vince looked at her, then the two of us. His eyes narrowed, and for a moment he studied my face, and then hers. His eyes moved back and forth between us, like watching a tennis match. I should have said something, but all I could do was shake my head. My mouth was dry.

He looked at us, back at Suzanne, and after far too long of silence, he tipped his head back and laughed. A deep, belly laugh, reserved for only the most humorous situations. He laughed for thirty seconds, and the rest of us watched. There was a nervous energy. The laughing was misplaced.

“Oh Suzanne,” he said when it died down. “Oh Suzanne.”

Vince rocked forward in his chair and leaned across the table, putting his face in hers. His face straightened.

“Listen,” he said, “you need to calm the fuck down.” His teeth were gritted and his words measured. “I don’t know if you’re going through something, or you keep having episodes, or you’re just not right in the head. But you need to get your shit sorted out. This has gone on long enough, and I will not tolerate it any longer.”

She looked down at the table, like a scolded child. She avoided eye contact and didn’t say a word.