The waiter kissed his fingertips. “We have the best ice cream,” he announced. “Made on the premises. We have vanilla, cherry, rum, banana, strawberry—” / Jack stopped him. “You’ve hooked me,” he said. “Bring a dish of banana.” / “With hot chocolate sauce?” / “The works.” / “Nuts?” / “Everything!” / “And two cappuccini?” / “I think I’ll live dangerously and have a plain coffee with Amaretto on the side,” Jade said.

He stood outside the dressing room and thumbs-upped or thumbs-downed each choice.

Then his plate was put before him: hominy grits and a scrap of bacon. He wanted to cry, like a child: ‘But, Mama, it's my birthday!’

Johnson scolded him for ‘leaving his social friends, to go and sit with a set of wretched un-idea'd girls.’