"God, what a song," he said to Mark Barnes, who had come up beside him.
"Classic. How you doing, guy?"
"Hanging in there." More people came in, stamping snow from their boots. Patti Page gave way to Tom Waits belting out, Jersey Girl. "Another classic," Oliver said. Tragedy was just offstage in Jersey Girl, momentarily held at bay by sex and love and hope. "All downhill from here, Mark."
"Life is fine, my man."
"What? Must be a new dancer in town. How do you do it, anyway?"
"Innate sensuality," Mark said. "One glance across a crowded room . . ."
"Yeah, right. My rooms are crowded with women in black pants who have eyes only for each other. Although, I did see a beauty in Becky's this morning. Had two little girls with her—-and a friend."
"What kind of friend?"
"A lady friend, not a black pantser, I'm pretty sure. Francesca, her name was."
"Francesca? Tall chick? Good looking?"