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Show 54 VOGUE "I am..." she starts to say and then stops to fix the contact lens that is irritating her left eye. "You are what?" he asks. "I am a former cover girl." "What magazine?" He leans forward in his lounge chair. "VOGUE, of course. And I was married to a count for a while." "Really?" "Oh, forget i t , " she says, trying to f i nd a comfortable spot in the orange vinyl cushion. "I never could l i e . The fact is that I am...I am getting older. See these grey hairs, wiry l i t t l e suckers?" "You don't look l i ke you're getting o l d ." " I f a lady t e l l s her age, s h e ' l l t e l l anything." " I d i d n ' t ask," he says, r o l l i n g his glass between his hands. "I don't care about numbers, but I would l i ke to know about you." "Read about me in VOGUE." "You're a b i t coy, but i n t r i g u i n g . " He studies her over the top of his glass from which he sips slowly. "That's what you say to everyone." She t w i r l s the empty ash tray on the shiny table top that reflects neon lights from the dance f l o o r . "My divorced friend dragged me out with her tonight, and now she's over there dancing." |