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it.
    “Although,” she adds, “not at first.”
    My mind reels. “Not at ... ?”
    “When I was born, I was named 0. On my first birthday, I was renamed 1. It was especially meaningful, having my new name as well as my age in frosty blue icing on my birthday cake.”
    “Oh, please,” I say. 6’s fantasy world is threatening to overwhelm me. Her lies are so obvious that I can’t help but believe them a little. “Even if you could remember your first birthday, you’re telling me that you were renamed to a new number every year?”
    “That’s right,” she says.
    There’s an obvious flaw in this little story, and I wait for her to explain it. She doesn’t, choosing instead to sip at her wine. I sit for a moment to see if I can ride out the urge to quiz her further, and, as it turns out, I can’t. “Okay,” I say. “What happened to 7?”
    6 puts down her glass and looks at me. “My parents were killed in a plane crash. When I was six years old.”

mktg case study #3: mktg shampoo
    PICK A RANDOM CHEMICAL IN YOUR PRODUCT AND HEAVILY PROMOTE ITS PRESENCE. WHEN YOUR CUSTOMERS SEE “NOW WITH BENZOETHYLHYDRATES!” THEY WILL ASSUME THAT THIS IS A GOOD THING.

messages
    Despite everything, by the time I’m driving back to the Porsche dealership (Gee, you know, maybe I won’t buy this after all) I’m feeling pretty pleased with myself. 6 is very interested in my idea, and while she’s less interested in me, I have survived a first date without humiliating myself. My biggest mistake was just hoeing into those tortellini when they arrived, because as the plates were being cleared I realized that I never saw 6 take a single bite of her meal. She either exquisitely orchestrated it so that I missed it all or slipped the whole meal into her folder. Either way, I’m impressed.
    When I get home, there are four messages on my machine. The first three are from someone who likes calling answering machines and hanging up without saying anything and the fourth is from Cindy. Cindy is a friend of mine from high school, and she’s tall, cute and determined to marry Brad Pitt. I almost believe she can do it, too; when Cindy gets set on something, she’s pretty hard to dissuade.
    Cindy’s message is something about meeting up for lunch, and since the dinner with 6 has left me with enough adrenaline to lift a truck, I call her.
    “Hello?”
    “Hi there.”
    “Scat,” she says, pleased. “You just caught me. I’m off to Berlin tonight.”
    “Hey, great.” Cindy is a flight attendant. “Another international flight. You must be doing well.”
    “The job sucks,” she says. “On the last run from Paris, three guys tried to pinch my ass. I am so close to quitting, I swear. The second I catch a break with my modeling, I’m out of here.”
    “Well,” I say. “You go, girl.”
    She laughs. “So, do you want to do lunch sometime?”
    “Yeah, sure. I’ll tell you about my get-rich-quick idea.”
    “Oh, Scat,” she says, bemused, “you’re such an upper in my life.”
    “Uh, thanks,” I say.
    “See ya.”
    “Ciao, ”I say, and hang up.

prowlers
    I’m still awake when Sneaky Pete comes home around two. Lying in bed, I hear him go through his regular routine: percolating some coffee, zapping through a dozen TV channels, flicking through a magazine. Our apartment doesn’t have a hell of a lot of soundproofing and thus is no good for bringing home dates, but then it’s also so dilapidated that no girl would want to sleep with either of us after seeing it, anyway. Hot beachfront apartments are nice for the image, but way, way out of my league.
    I consider going out to him for some more advice but decide against it. Sneaky Pete has helped me enough. From here, I fight alone.

what a wonderful company
    I call Wednesday morning and get 6’s personal assistant. “I’m afraid Ms. 6 is very busy,” the PA tells me. She sounds suspiciously like my mother, so much so that my mind spins with conspiracy theories. I