"Queen Latifah? Under Q or L?" JD asks.

"Wait," I exclaim, while going over the Ls.

"Lypsinka's coming? What did I tell you guys: we don't want any drag queens."

"Why not?" "They're like the new mimes, that's why."

"Lypsinka is not a drag queen, Victor," Beau scolds me. "Lypsinka is a gender illusionist."

"And you're a little mo," I snarl, ripping down a photo of Tyson in a Ralph Lauren ad. "Did I ever tell you that?"

"And you're a f**king racist," Beau shouts, grabbing the crumpled page from me.

I immediately pull out a Malcolm X cap I got at the premiere- signed by Spike Lee-and shove it in JD's face. "See? Malcolm X cap. Don't accuse me of not being multicultural, you little mo."

"Paul Verhoeven said God is bisexual, Victor."

"Paul Verhoeven is a Nazi and not invited."

"You're a Nazi, Victor," Beau sneers. "You're the Nazi."

"I'm a pu**y Nazi, you little mo, and you invited Jean-Claude Van Damme behind my back?!?"

"Kato Kaelin's publicist, David Crowley, keeps calling."

"Invite David Crowley."

"Oh, people like Kato, Victor."

"Have they seen his last movie, Dr. Skull?"

"It doesn't matter: people totally lock on to the hair."

Chapter Four

"Speaking of: George Stephanopoulos."

"Who? Snuffleupagus?"

"No. George-"

"I heard you, I heard you," I groan dismissively. "Only if he's coming with someone recognizable."

"But Victor-"

"Only if"-I check my watch-"between now and nine he gets back together with Jennifer Jason Leigh or Lisa Kudrow or Ashley Judd or someone more famous."

"Um-"

"Damien will have a fit, JD, if he shows up solo."

"Damien keeps reminding me, Victor, that he wants a little politics, a little class."

"Damien wanted to hire MTV dancers and I talked him out of that," I shout. "How long do you think it'll take me to make him eighty-six that little Greek?"

JD looks at Beau. "Is this cool or useless? I'm not sure."

I clap my hands together. "Let's just finish the late RSVPs."

"Lisa Loeb?"

"Oh, this will certainly be a glittering success. Next."

"James Iha-guitarist from Smashing Pumpkins."

"Billy Corgan would've been better, but okay."

"George Clooney."

"Oh, he's so alive and wild. Next"

"Jennifer Aniston and David Schwimmer?"

"Blah, blah, blah."

"Okay, Victor-we need to go over the Bs, and Ds, and the Ss."

"Feed me."

"Stanford Blatch."

"Oh dear god."

"Grow up, Victor," JD says. "He owns like half of Savoy."

"Invite whoever owns the other half."

"Victor, the Weinstein brothers love him."

"That guy is so gross he'd work in a pet store just so he could eat free rabbit shit."

"Andre Balazs?"

"With Katie Ford, yes."

"Drew Barrymore?"

"Yes-and dinner too."

"Gabriel Byrne?"

"Without Ellen Barkin, yes."

"David Bosom?"

"Okay, but party only."

"Scott Benoit?"

"Party only."

"Leilani Bishop."

"Party."

"Eric Bogosian."

"Has a show. Can't make dinner. Will come to the party."

"Brandy."

"Jesus, Beau, she's sixteen."

"`Moesha' is a hit and the record's gone platinum."

"She's in."

"Sandra Bernhard."

"Party only."

"Billy, Stephen and/or Alec Baldwin."

"Dinner, party only, dinner."

"Boris Becker."

"Uh-huh. Oh my god, this is sounding more and more like a Planet Hollywood opening you'd never want to eat at," I sigh. "Am I reading this fax right? Lisa Bonet?"

"If Lenny Kravitz comes, she won't."

"Is Lenny Kravitz coming?"

"Yes."

"Cross her off."

"Tim Burton."

"Oh god I'm hot!"

"Halle Berry."