Page 29 of Just Not That Into Billionaires

“I can’t take credit,” I say. “It was Francine’s idea. My wife is one in a million. Truly.”

She searches my eyes. What is she thinking?

“We’ve heard that you dance, Francine,” Juliana says.

“Yes, that’s how we met,” she says. “When I was early in my career as a dancer, I did a summer at Beau Cirque Fantastique, one of those huge Las Vegas extravaganzas, and Benny was doing lights and sound.”

Juliana’s excited. She was in Vegas a few years ago and she saw Beau Cirque Fantastique. She’s excited that Francine was in it once. Francine tells her that her part was akin to being a tree in a play.

“She’s underselling herself,” I say. “The part wasnotlike being a tree in a play.”

She looks at me, surprised. “It was a little.”

“She had a small part, part of the background dance corps, but she stole the show every time she was on stage. I guarantee you, a full eighty-seven percent of that audience was mesmerized by her and her alone.”

Everybody’s beaming at me, enjoying my husbandly devotion. Even Francine is watching me intently.

“Benny is extremely supportive of my career,” she says. “I’m going on a European tour with my ballet company soon and he’s so excited for me.”

“Do you have an interest in ballet and acrobatics, Benny?” Juliana asks. “Is that why you got a job there?”

“Applying with Beau Cirque was more about the tech, I’m afraid,” I say. “It was an interesting challenge for me. There are a lot of moving parts to a live light and sound show. A lot of robotic moving parts, actually, in terms of the lighting and some of the props.”

“It was an entire stage show built around the Lady Gaga song ‘Alejandro,’” Francine says. “You know that song?”

It turns out that everybody knows that song. People all over the world know Lady Gaga. The group is discussing the song now.

I’m focusing on Francine’s hair, elaborate twists coiling around like a map of my current state of mind. I imagine tracing one with a finger, around and around.

She didn’t even know we were married. Ten fucking years.

Who does that?

Francine, of course. She’s an artist with zero detail orientation whatsoever, unless it has to do with ballet. Anything having to do with ballet, she’s as serious as a general conducting a mission behind enemy lines. I can’t even begin to contemplate the tax trouble she might be in. Will she have to redo her taxes for the last ten years? Probably. Eventually I should probably inform her of this.

“This I need to hear,” one of the Texan women says to me. “Come on, do the song, Benny!”

I straighten up. “What? What are we talking about?”

“Francine says you can sing a funny rendition of ‘Alejandro.’”

I turn to her, surprised. She remembers my singing that, but not our marrying. I guess I shouldn’t be surprised.

I can’t believe I sang that song. One second I’m having the end-of-the-production-run punch and the next thing I know, I’m singing that ridiculous song—not just singing it, but singing a mocking version I only ever did in my head. Her intense delight at my singing was like the best drug in the world, blazing through my veins, and I wanted more of that. More, more, more. So I kept on with it.

“I wouldn’t even know the words, now,” I grumble.

“Oh, do the song, Benny! You have to!” she begs. “And don’t pretend you don’t remember it.” She turns to the group. “You have no idea, it was so funny, the way he can sing it. You’ll die. Literally.”

“I don’t know about literally,” I say.

She grins. “They literally will!”

It’s here I realize that she’s using it on purpose, to annoy me, another arrow in the quiver of ways to make me sorry I’m forcing her to go around as my wife.

“He completely remembers every single word and every single intonation,” she continues. “We only heard the song a million times. Nothing gets more embossed in your memory than a song you do a show to. Juliana, you should totally make the purchase of this company contingent on him singing it to you at some point. He would love to sing it, but you’ll have to press him.”

Barbara the Texan claps her hands together. “This I need to hear.” Everybody’s enjoying themselves a great deal at this little dinner of ours—except Aaron, of course. Aaron is not a fan.

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