Carrie met Cici around this time last year at Bowery Bar. Carrie was sitting at one of the booths, it was kind of late and she was kind of fucked up, and this girl bounced over and said stuff like, "You're my idol" and "You're so beautiful" and "Where did you get your shoes I love them." Carrie was flattered. "I want to be your best friend," Cici said, in a voice that rubbed up against her like a cat. "Can I be your best friend? Please?" "Now listen, er. ."
"Cici."
"Cici," Carrie said, a little sternly. "It just doesn't work that way."
"Why not?"
"Because I've been in New York for fifteen years. Fifteen years and. .»
"Oh," Cici said, slumping. "But can I call you? I'm going to call you." And then she bounced over to another table, sat down, turned around, and waved.
A couple of weeks later, Cici called Carrie. "You've got to come to Miami with us."
"I hate Miami. I will never step foot in Miami," Carrie said. "If you ever call me again and mention Miami, I will hang up."
"You are just so funny," Cici said.
In Miami, Cici and Carolyne stayed with some rich-guy friends of Carolyne's from the University of Texas. On Friday night, they all went out and got drunk, and Cici made out with one of the Texas guys, Dexter. But she got annoyed at him the following night when he followed her around, putting his arm around her, trying to kiss her—like they were a couple or something. "Let's go upstairs and fool around," he kept whispering in her ear. Cici didn't want to, so she sort of started ignoring him, and Dexter stormed out of the house. He came back a couple of hours later with a girl. "Hi y'all," he said, giving Cici a wave as he passed by the living room on his way upstairs with the girl. The girl gave him a blow job. Then they came downstairs, and Dexter made a great show of writing down her phone number.
Cici ran out of the house screaming and crying just as Carolyne was spinning up the driveway in a rental car. She was also screaming and crying. She'd run into Sam, who just happened to be in Miami as well, and he had wanted her to have a menage a trois with some blond, stripper bimbo, and when Carolyne said, "Fuck off," he pushed her down on the sand at South Beach and said, "The only reason I ever went anyplace with you was because we always get our pictures taken at parties."