"What does a dumb Polack know?" Larry said. "Let's go celebrate."
That night Catherine and Larry and four of Larry's classmates and their wives went to the Twenty-one Club on East Fifty-second Street for dinner. The foyer was crowded, and the maitre d' told them that without reservations there were no tables available.
"To hell with this place," Larry said. "Let's go next door to Toots Shor's."
"Wait a minute," Catherine said. She went over to the captain and asked to see Jerry Berns.
A few moments later a short, thin man with inquisitive gray eyes bustled up.
"I'm Jerry Berns," he said. "May I help you?"
"My husband and I are with some friends," Catherine explained. "There are ten of us."
He started to shake his head. "Unless you have a reservation..."
"I'm William Fraser's partner," Catherine said.
Jerry Berns looked at Catherine reproachfully. "Why didn't you tell me? Can you give me fifteen minutes?"
"Thank you," Catherine said gratefully.
She went back to where the group was standing.
"Surprise!" Catherine said. "We have a table."
"How did you manage that?" Larry asked.
"It was easy," Catherine said. "I mentioned Bill Fraser's name." She saw the look that came into Larry's eyes. "He comes in here often," Catherine went on quickly. "And he told me if I ever came in and needed a table, to mention his name."
Larry turned to the others. "Let's get the hell out of here. This is for the birds."
The group started toward the door. Larry turned to Catherine. "Coming?"
"Of course," Catherine said hesitantly, "I just wanted to tell them that we're not..."
"Fuck 'em," said Larry loudly. "Are you coming or aren't you?"
People were turning to stare. Catherine felt her face redden.
"Yes," she said. She turned and followed Larry out the door.
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They went to an Italian restaurant on Sixth Avenue and had a bad dinner. Outwardly Catherine acted as though nothing had happened, but inwardly she was fuming. She was furious with Larry for his childish behavior and for humiliating her in public.
When they got home, she walked into the bedroom without saying a word, undressed, turned out the light and got into bed. She heard Larry in the living room, mixing a drink.
Ten minutes later he came into the bedroom and turned on the light and walked over to the bed. "You planning to become a martyr?" he asked.
She sat up, furious. "Don't try to put me on the defensive," she said. "Your behavior tonight was inexcusable. What got into you?"
"The same guy that got into you."
She stared at him. "What?"
"I'm talking about Mr. Perfection. Bill Fraser."
She looked at him, not understanding. "Bill's never done anything but help us."