”Not so fast.”  I point to my screen. ” This is not looking good.”

They abandon their searches for ”vacation rentals in Provincetown” and crowd around me.  I shake my head as I read aloud, ”Says here you have to be either a resident of Massachusetts or from a state that hasn’t explicitly written into its laws that same sex marriage is illegal.”

”Fucking Prop 8,” Alice cries, ”just did that!”

”Oh! Goddammit!  We can’t do it there.”

Helena says, ”Tina search for when the next balloting is.”

Alice, seeing me near tears, comforts me, ”Bad news, I know. What she’s saying is, when’s the next time we vote on it?”

I brush my tears away. ”Let’s see. Okay, here’s Lambda Legal’s site.  They’re all over it.”  I scroll through the articles with flashing rainbow donation buttons on every page.

Holding my head in both hands, I groan at more bad news. ”Not until next year!” I say, sinking down on both elbows.

Helena counts off on her fingers, while Alice rescues Angelica from crawling off the edge of the computer table. ”Well, technically two thousand and ten begins in four months.”

”She’s right,” Alice agrees bouncing with the baby.  ”I’ve seen GLAAD headquarters and the Lambda Center both, right on Main Street in Santa Monica.”

”There’s one on Sunset, too, nearer to us.”

”Okay, I’m feeling better.”  I say, reading through the site. ”Look at the size of their rallies.”

”And the size of those…” Helena turns my screen to get a better look at a beach volley ball line up of women in bikinis.

”Forget the Cape, Tina!” Alice says, as her eyes widen and we look at more and more pictures of parties.  ”These look like the die hard Happy Hour organizing types.”

Helena looks at her Cartier tank watch. ”Well, it is almost five.”

One hour later –

At six o’clock I send Bette, what probably comes across as a drunk text, my photo and ”Join us!” with the address.

Around me, Angelica is having the time of her life, being passed around the GLAAD headquarters, as the cutest mascot – ever – for the same sex marriage cause.

At six thirty, wearing a long-tailed denim shirt smeared with watercolor paint over jeans, Bette appears in the doorway of the bar I’d migrated to, along with twenty of my newest friends.

She settles across the table from Helena.  They eye each other warily.  The waiter appears with more Rolling Rocks and Bette takes a swallow, before turning her attention to me.  ”So, it’s Tuesday night and now, it’s a party.  What’d I miss while I closed my eyes for ten minutes?”

A man in a bright orange shirt with a matching mohawk delivers Angelica back to our table.

”Thank you!” Bette says, examining her for rainbow markings and unauthorized tattoos.

”Bette,” Helena begins tentatively, ”your baby is lovely and I’m truly happy for you.”

”We’re a little behind on Thank You notes, especially for the gift you and Peggy sent.”

”You can’t go wrong at Tiffany’s.”

”No, you can’t.”  Bette turns her attention to Alice and asks,  ”Are you doing a story about…” she looks around the crowded bar, ”whatever this is?”

Alice sweeps her arms to encompass the boisterous room. ”Welcome to the front lines of California’s next fight for gay marriage.”

”It is?”  Bette says, suddenly taking an interest.

I lead her out of the bar and down the street.  Standing outside the GLAAD headquarters we peer inside at the chaos and she says, ”I could organize the hell out of this campaign. I wonder who’s in charge?”

A harried thirty-something man, his arms overburdened with paper, walks outside, nearly spilling a stack of leaflets on the sidewalk.

”Whoa! Let me help with that,” Bette says, stopping the leaflets from falling.

Pushing his glasses back up his nose he recognizes her, shouting,  ”Fay Buckley!”

”Fuck no!”

”I’m…I’m so sorry,” he stammers, ”I meant we all watched you skewer her on TV.”

”Oh, that.”  Bette’s shoulders sag a little and she turns to walk away.

He calls to her, ”She’s on us, now, Fay Buckley is. I’m sure you’ve seen her all over the news, campaigning hard against us.”

Bette peers back through the windows of GLAAD’s headquarters.  ”Do you guys have any money?  I don’t come cheap, but I’ll fucking destroy Fay Buckley for you.  I’ve given it quite a bit of thought.”