““We talk comfortably for a few minutes, and then…watch this. Kate’s eyes go wide as saucers, and she dives under the table. I look around. What the hell? I duck my head and take a peek at her. “What are you doing?” She looks panicked. “Billy’s here. Upstairs, in the loft over the dance floor. And he’s not alone.” I start to lift my head when she yells, “Don’t look!” Jesus Christ—this is ridiculous. So much for being over the dickwit. “It’s just…I can’t let him see me like this.” Now I’m confused. “What are you talking about? You look great.” She always looks great. “No, not in these clothes. He said it wasn’t attractive that I was so driven. It was one of the reasons he wanted to break up. That I…he said I was too…masculine.” You have got to be fucking kidding me. I’m masculine. Hillary Clinton is masculine. Kate Brooks doesn’t have a goddamn masculine cell in her body. She’s all woman, believe me.””
