She, however, had a question.“Where did you get that song?” Um, she’d seen it when he’d suggested it. Must mean the publisher.“Wren has a pu...lisher. I can’t remember the name at the moment, but the license was quite reasonable.”“No. The one you sang to the kid. The falling down one.” Okay. Entirely different song.“The Ecumenical Institute is a lay-training group on the west side of Chicago. I learned about it when I was still in New York. Strange that a Chicagoan hasn’t heard of it.” Which was. "Fuckin' Ikea," he mumbled. "Let's move over to the casting couch."Looking at the couch I chose to remain standing since it appeared home to more fungi than a petri dish. He resumed his questions. "How do you feel about hot girl-on-girl action?" Do I pay you four-hundred-bucks for that?" He laughed again; his beer-gut jiggling. "I love a woman with a sense of humor. Except that Ellen DeGeneres after she spurned my advances at the White Castle. But you have spunk. Speaking of spunk, do you. “I didn’t mean we actually do stuff,” added Evelyn, presumably seeing the glint in Candace’s eye.“I understand,” Candace’s grinning gaze flitted from them to me, and back.“Oh after you with the bathroom,” I said to her, seeing the towel in her hand. There’s only one tiny shower room, that we have share between the three of us teachers - all that I’d been able to squeeze in, with Janice having decreed we were going to fit into the attic.“Perhaps I could share with you?” Candace smiled brightly. Betty had even overhear him telling her about a modeling job he might have for her. Selma's eyes had lit up at the prospects, and Betty got the feeling that when she and Doug faded out of the picture, they wouldn't be missed too much, at least by Harvey and Selma. She probably would miss Jean, but knew that she wouldn't go on seeing her. Jean, too, was taken with Selma, so everything had a way of fitting together.Doug and Betty both were relieved when they finally left. They were beginning to.