“I changed it.” “Why?” “Because it sounds like a girl who might live next door to you. And I've always wanted to be the kind of girl you feel lucky just to lay your eyes on.” She tilted her head back and finished her wine. “Like you.” “Oh, stop.” “You stop. You know damn well what you are. How you affect the people around you. Id kill for a chest like that and full lips like yours. You make people think of undressing you just by showing up in a room fully clothed.” I felt flushed hearing her talk about me like that. Having her talk about the way men saw me. I’d never heard a woman talk about me that way before. Celia took my glass out of my hand. She threw the wine back into her own throat. “We need more,” she said, waving the glass in the air. I smiled and took both glasses into the kitchen. Celia followed me. She leaned against my Formica counter as I poured. “The first time I saw Father and Daughter, do you know what I thought?” she said. Billie Holiday was now faintly playing in the background. “What?” I said, handing her her glass. She took it and put it down for a moment, then hopped up onto the counter and picked it up. She was wearing dark blue capri pants and a white sleeveless turtleneck. “I thought you were the most gorgeous woman who had ever been created and we should all stop trying.” She inhaled half the contents of her glass. “No, you did not,” I said. “Yes, I did.” I took a sip of my wine. “It makes no sense,” I told her. “You admiring me like you’re any different. You’re a knockout, plain and simple. With your big blue eyes and your hourglass figure . . . I think together we really give the guys a wild sight.” Celia smiled. “Thank you.”