"But you just a minute ago said you wanted me to quit show-biz and settle down to being your wife."
"Oh, did I?" I said.
"Of course you did," she said, slightly exasperated. I felt her move away from me an inch or so. It made a lot of difference. They broke into a mambo suddenly. We both could mambo very well. That meant something. It meant more confirmation of Mr. Xlptl, because Jack Brody, private eye, didn't know a mambo from a mango.
"When do you go on?" I said.
"You know when. In half an hour."
I looked down at her. Would Dan Carboy kiss his wife now? Probably, I thought. This version of Dan Carboy would only if he thought the real Carboy would. I waited for her to make some kind of a gesture, to take the play away from me. We just danced. Then the music stopped and we went to our table where drinks were waiting. Mine was a martini. From the color, it looked very dry. And it was.
"Xlptl," I said.
"What?" She'd heard me. She didn't understand. Her face showed absolutely nothing.
She obviously wasn't Mrs. Xlptl. "Hiccup," I said, searching surreptitiously through my suit-jacket pockets for the list of names. She smiled at me. I smiled at her. I couldn't find the list. I didn't want to make it obvious, so I didn't go digging down into my pants pockets. That could wait for when she went on. What did she do? I wondered. Sing? Play the piano maybe? Her gown told me nothing. It was long and sheath-like, in a bright scarlet which almost matched her hair in the dim lighting.