The “big event” in question is an old fashioned ball.

Okay, you’re probably laughing if you pictured me at some Gone With The Wind southern cotillion wearing a hoop skirt and fanning myself when a handsome man gives me the vapors, but I assure you that aint happening.

This blast from the past dance is some benefit for one of Tish’s favorite charities that involves a whole bunch of lawyers providing pro-bono work to people who can’t afford an attorney. Fine, it’s a good cause, and I’m happy to help out. Though I begged to simply write a check for the two tickets and not drag poor Josh to this thing, my friends insisted.

Almost makes me long for a Celine Dion concert. This won’t exactly make my heart go on, if you know what I mean.

About the only thing I had in my closet remotely resembling a ball gown was the outfit I wore to the senior prom, and I’ve only hung onto that dress for an occasional Halloween costume. Yes, it still fits. As for an actual ball gown, there was no way I would actually buy such a thing, so I rented one. (By the way, if you ever want a really good laugh, visit eBay and search for ball gowns. And I thought bridesmaid’s dresses were bad.)

Meanwhile, poor Josh has to wear a monkey suit to this thing. However, the thought of seeing him in a tux does soften the blow.

And as I’m getting dressed, it’s bugging me. How come women have to get all gussied up with these ridiculous dresses and a guy can simply pull something out of the closet that works for dozens of occasions? As my teenage cousin would say, this is so not fair.

Of course, along with this will be the inevitable interrogation from Tish, who will already be in lawyer mode as we’ll be surrounded by a horde of them.

This will be date number four with Josh, so I am “allowed” to invite him up to my apartment after the ball. I’ve already discussed this with Gypsy and told her I do not wish to be interrupted this time. Like that’s gonna have any effect. Note to self: ask the contractor to change out all the door handles for knobs.

Funny, the cat has been quiet today, not even stealing anything or launching a sneak attack. The weather has been chilly and overcast, so perhaps the lack of sun squares has her a bit depressed. I couldn’t even get her to play.

Which means she’ll want to do so when I go to sleep.

***

JOSH PICKED ME UP AT six, looking all the world like James Bond in a tux.

Without the British accent, of course.

(I know, I know, I need to stop thinking about Beckett.)

We arrive at the upper crust hotel hosting this thing, me on Josh’s arm in a royal blue gown made out of fabric that makes some weird swishing noise every time I take a step. The ballroom is spectacular (even though it is filled with lawyers) and I spot my friends already seated at a table in the corner.

All three of them are busy eying Josh. And looking impressed.

And I note that not one of them brought a plus one.

This is so not fair.

Poor Josh, one guy with four women. (Though I guess from his point of view that’s not a bad thing.)

We arrive at the table and I handle the introductions.

And then the interrogation begins.

***

A COUPLE HOURS LATER Josh excuses himself to go and say hello to a friend. I jump on the chance for immediate feedback, not wanting to wait till tomorrow for the de-brief. “Well?”

Rory licks her lips as she keeps an eye on him. “I’m sorry. Ask someone else. I’m busy watching him walk away.”

“You said the same thing about Beckett.”

“Occupational hazard with  guys who have great asses.”

“But what do you think of the rest of him?”

She turns to me as Josh disappears into the men’s room. “Fine. The man is smoking hot. He’s hot and Beckett’s cute. Seems like a nice guy. You gotta get him on the dance floor though.”

“Tish?”

“No red flags so far. I’m rating the two men as even to this point.”

“Madison?”

“Too early to tell. But yeah, I wouldn’t kick him to the curb. Things will simply have to work themselves out.”

“You guys are absolutely no help, you know that?”

Madison shakes her head. “You still don’t get it.”

“Get what?”

“Without our help, you wouldn’t be in this position, trying to decide between two terrific guys.”

***

JOSH EAGERLY ACCEPTS my invitation for a nightcap and we head into my apartment as I consider how far I’ll go in ravishing double-oh-seven. He’ll be shaken, not stirred.

And then I see something which immediately makes me forget.

Gypsy, lying on her side, head on the floor, panting.

“Oh my God, Gypsy!” I run to her and crouch down to get a closer look.

Josh stands next to me. “What’s wrong with her?”

I slowly stroke her fur and she doesn’t purr or react. “I don’t know, I’ve never seen her like this. I gotta get her to the vet right now.”

He slowly nods. “Sure, I understand.”

I run to the kitchen, grab the vet’s business card from the fridge and call the emergency number. Fortunately he’s Madison’s next door neighbor and tells me to bring Gypsy right to his house. I grab the pet carrier from the closet, gently put the cat inside and head for the door.

“You want me to wait here?” asks Josh.

The questions strikes me as odd. “I might be awhile. Best that we just say goodnight.” I start to head out the door. “You can let yourself out.”

***

THE VET QUICKLY ASSESSES the problem. “In human terms, this is kind of like cat flu.” He pulls a hypo from his medical bag and prepares a shot. “Good thing you caught this in time. Cats can go downhill quick. You pet Gypsy to distract her while I give her the shot.”

I get in front of Gypsy so she can see me and lock eyes with her, then scratch her head. “You’re gonna be okay, sunshine.” I can tell she’s not feeling well as she’s not “smiling.” The vet administers the shot and she doesn’t flinch.

“She should be back to normal in a couple days. You can take her home.” He hands me a small bottle. “Five drops twice a day until you use up the medicine. Have you ever given medicine to a cat?”

“No. Do I need oven mitts and peroxide?”

“You might. They’re not wild about it.” He explains how to do it and gives me a brochure as well. “The good thing is that this medicine has a flavor cats like, so I think she’ll be okay. Some cats will even lick it from a spoon. Meanwhile, keep her warm. Turn up the heat a bit. She doesn’t need to be in that screened porch you have. Too chilly this time of year.”

“Sure, I’ll keep a close eye on her. I’ve got one of those cat beds which looks like an igloo that she curls up inside when she’s cold. Thank you so much, Doctor.”

“Not a problem, and call if she doesn’t start getting better by tomorrow morning. I know how special this particular cat is. Though every cat is special to its owner.”

“You have no idea. She’s my sunshine.”

He seems to finally notice my outfit. “Were you at a wedding or something?”

“It was an old fashioned ball my friends dragged me to. Don’t ask.”

“Well, it’s certainly a different look for you, but you look terrific.”

“Thank you, but I can’t wait to get out of this thing.”

***

I LAY IN BED A FEW hours later, wide awake, stroking Gypsy’s head. She’s tunneled under the comforter to keep warm. She already looks better, and gave me a lick, but it’s clear she’s not in the mood to do anything but rest.

Still, I can’t get Josh’s reaction out of my mind.

“You want me to wait here?”

How would Beckett have reacted? How would any man after a date invited him up to her place? Personally, I wish he would have said, “C’mon, get the cat and I’ll drive you.”

Maybe it’s something, maybe nothing.

Whatever. Right now Gypsy is top priority.