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Becca shifts beside me.

Paul turns to her with immediate polish. “And you are?”

“Becca.” She gives him her best girlish smile. “Thanks for having us.”

“Of course.” He looks from her to me. “I know all of this is unusual.”

That word again. How about fucked up? Or batshit? Or balls-out crazy?

“Little bit,” I say.

“There are quieter rooms inside if the party becomes too much. If you need anything, Landy can help.”

I glance past him to the pool where one of the pretty boys has started dancing in the shallow end while three older men clap and whistle.

“This is what you call a celebration of life?”

Becca’s fingers tighten on my arm.

A flicker crosses Paul’s face, then his mouth curves slightly. “Renny resented tasteful.”

A laugh almost gets out of me. I catch it just in time.

Something shifts between us. Just a strange little recognition of two people surprised by each other.

“He planned this?” I ask.

“His whole life planned this.”

“Even the slutty pool boys?”

Paul’s eyes move briefly toward the water. When they come back to mine, I catch the smallest trace of embarrassment.

“Renny collected beautiful people,” he says. “It was frequently exhausting.”

That one gets a laugh out of me.

Paul’s gaze drops to my mouth before he can stop it. Fast, but I see it.

I shift my weight.

Paul’s eyes return to mine, controlled again.

Becca looks between us. I pretend not to notice that she notices.

Another drag queen takes the microphone near the DJ booth and announces, “Ladies, gentlemen, and everyone clever enough to avoid those categories, we are about to begin Renny’s favorite game: What’s The Craziest Thing You’ve Done For a Drink?”

The yard erupts in cheers and laughs.

Becca leans close. “I love funerals now.”

Paul steps up and watches with us. “Renny always wanted people happy.”

“Happiness of strangers.”

The words come out sharper than intended.

Paul goes still, then looks at me for a long second.