For the next week and a half, Phoebe was cordial to Karl. She wasn't overly friendly; she didn't seek him out, but she was very polite when he stopped by her desk to chat several times each day. Her reasoning was that, while nothing disastrous had happened the evening she spent at his house, nothing very good had happened either. She decided she just wasn't interested. The problem became that Karl didn't seem to get the hint. The more she smiled and nodded and pretended to be on deadline for a project, the more frequently he dropped by. It got to the point where she considered making a little sign for her desk that said, “Not interested,” except Carlotta would undoubtedly see it and take it as a statement of how Phoebe felt about her job.

Finally, Karl asked Phoebe out for dinner. She explained that she was on a very strict diet that required her to eat exactly five proteins, five carbs and two to three fats each day. Going out really messed with her count. Who knew what they put into restaurant food?

“That's funny,” Karl said. “Because when you came over you had two hot dogs. That's like two proteins and seventeen fats.”

“Well, I wasn't on the diet then,” Phoebe said, and pretended to find a hidden pile of press clippings that needed copying. “I'm sorry, but I've got work to do.”

---

On Thursday afternoon, Phoebe saw Kali Sanger from the Special Events Department in the staff room, buying a Fresca. Kali was about Phoebe's age, too thin, with a tattoo on her lower back that she liked to show off.

“Did you hear about Corey Feldman's bachelor party?” Kali asked.

“Who?”

“Corey Feldman, in Corporate Giving? He's getting married,” Kari said and sniffed, picking at some chipping nail polish. “I slept with him. After The Apprentice.”

“He wasn't engaged then?” Phoebe asked.

“Not yet. He said he had a girlfriend but he wasn't that into her. Then, bam, he's engaged. Right after I slept with him.”

“Oh, that's interesting,” Phoebe said, eyeing the door.

“He must not have any real friends or something because he invited every male that works at the museum to his party. Plus, like, his brother.”

“That's sad.”

“They're going to this place in the suburbs called The Hill,” Kali said. “In a party bus. I'm totally crashing it. You should, too.”

In truth, it seemed like a dubious plan, but Phoebe found herself agreeing to go. It beat staying home and watching yet another “Dateline” about a mysterious murder in a small town.

---

Kali picked Phoebe up in her rusted Dodge Neon. Phoebe ran out to the car wearing sunglasses and a headscarf.

“What's with the outfit?” Kali asked, smoking a cigarrette and pushing her hair back into a pony-tail, excentuating her dark roots against bleach blonde.

“I don't want them to recognize me.”

“So you dress up like Audrey Hepburn? The Hill isn't really that kind of place...”

Twenty minutes later, they pulled into a dusty parking lot crammed full of cars. Directly next to a cinderblock building festooned with banners advertising free chicken wings and specials on Bud Lite was a fenced-in area for sand volleyball. Two teams darted after the ball while trying to keep their beers from sloshing out of plastic cups.

“Sand volleyball?” Phoebe asked. “Frightening.”

“Yeah, but there's the party bus so they must be inside,” Kali said. “Let's go.”

They pushed their way in. The bar was packed.

“What's going on here?” Phoebe asked. “Why is it almost all guys?”

“I guess it's a popular place,” Kali said. “Let's get some drinks.”

It took several minutes to push themselves up to the bar and then they had to elbow their way in between several beefy guys to order.

“Hey, look, it's grandma,” one of the guys said, gesturing at Phoebe's head scarf.

Before Phoebe could think of a retort, the lights went down and pounding music pumped over the sound system. Spotlights bounced around the room and settled on the stage as an announcer screamed into a microphone.

“Hey everybody! ARE YOU READY? I SAID, ARE YOU READY?”

The crowd erupted in cheers and whistles. The beefy guys pounded their hands on the bar.

“THE HILL PROUDLY WELCOMES YOU TO BURGERS-N-BUNZ!! LET'S HEAR IT FOR THE BUNZ!”

On cue, a line of women sashayed out from behind the stage curtain wearing cut-off t-shirts, microscopic denim shorts and high heels. Each of them carried a tray of burgers. They took turns taking center stage, showing off their tray and then turning around and showing off their rear ends, most of which were partially exposed due to their tiny shorts. A mob of men rushed the stage, reaching out for the women, who descended the stage with their trays of burgers held high and started handing them out.

“Oh my god, this is terrible,” Phoebe said. “I feel so sorry for those women.”

“Everyone's gotta make a living,” Kali said and then gripped Phoebe's arm. “Oh my God, there's Corey!”

Corey sat at a table just off the stage, surrounded by the male staffers from the museum, all of whom still wore the oxford shirts and khakis they'd worn to work. Some looked uncomfortable and stood with hands in their pockets but many, most of them museum guards, stood on chairs and cheered. Corey's hair was ruffled and his tie hung loosely around his neck. One of the Bunz danced in front of him, snaking her tray of burgers around her body. Corey made a feeble attempt to wave her away but two guards egged her on with twenty dollar bills. The dancer cozied up to Corey, shaking her ass and then turning around to force-feed him a burger.

“I think I'm going to be sick,” Phoebe said and turned away intending to get a stiff drink. She had to push through the crowd of men, all of them clamoring for their chance to eat a burger with one of the Bunz. To Phoebe's right, one of the Bunz put a burger between her cleavage and a burly man wearing a “Git-R-Done” trucker cap chomped at the bun. Horrified, Phoebe pushed harder, bouncing off barrel chests and beer bellies. She pitched forward and slammed into Karl, who was threading his way through the crowd with his hand held protectively over a glass of beer.

“Phoebe,” Karl said as the beer soaked his shirt and dripped on his shoes. “What are you doing here?”

NEXT