"From all what?" she asks, then her eyes narrow. "You didn't like the Waldorf salad, did you?"
"I want to take you away from this," I say, motioning around the kitchen, spastic. "From sushi and elves and... stuff."
An elf walks into the kitchen, setting down a tray of dirty plates, and past him, over him, I can see Paul Owen leaning into Meredith, who's shouting something into his ear over the din of Christmas music, and he scans the room looking for someone, nodding, then Courtney walks into view and I grab Evelyn, bringing her even closer to me.
"Sushi? Elves? Patrick you're confusing me," Evelyn says. "And I don't appreciate it."
"Let's go." I'm squeezing her roughly, pulling her toward the back door. "Let's be daring for once. For just once in your life, Evelyn, be daring."
She stops, refusing to be pulled along, and then she starts smiling, considering my offer but only slightly won over.
"Come on..." I start whining. "Let this be my Christmas present."
"Oh ho, I was already at Brooks Brothers and - " she starts.
"Stop it. Come on, I want this," I say and then in a last, desperate attempt I smile flirtatiously, kissing her lightly on the lips, and add, "Mrs. Batsman?"
"Oh Patrick," she sighs, melting. "But what about cleanup?"
"The midgets'll do it," I assure her.
"But someone has to oversee it, honey."
"So choose an elf. Make that one over there the elf overseer," I say. "But let's go, now." I start pulling her toward the back door of the brownstone, her shoes squeaking as they slide across the Muscoli marble tile.
And then we're out the door, rushing down the alley adjacent to the brownstone, and I stop and peer around the corner to see if anyone we know is leaving or entering the party. We make a run for a limousine I think is Owen's, but I don't want to make Evelyn suspicious so I simply walk up to the closest one, open the door and push her in.
"Pat rick," she squeals, pleased. "This is so naughty. And a limo - " I close the door on her and walk around the car and knock on the driver's window. The driver unrolls it.
"Hi," I say, holding out a hand. "Pat Bateman."