Subsideways

The Bitch is actually a little frightened of Léger, and she wasn't too interested in di Rosa's Miami Beach landscapes — she knows what they look like — so she wandered into the food part of the party, which was being catered by a stunned Marie Vanille. Vanille's tropical-European muffins and fish samosas were excellent, but the gracious Haitian woman from Hollywood could barely contain her shock over a phenomenon The Bitch should have warned her about: The Bass members and patrons look well-fed enough, but they have never before seen food. How else to explain the crush of blue-coiffed grandes dames and ascot-twirling walkers shoving their way to the crudites and stuffing their pockets with chicken fingers? "Yes, we need more empanadas!" Vanille trilled to her team of assistants, who could not replenish the supply of snacks quickly enough to prevent a near-Axl Rose-Tommy Hilfiger smackdown between two parties whose total age must have been in the four digits.

As The Bitch watched cautiously from the sidelines, a tall woman with a salt-and-pepper pageboy and startling, childlike blue eyes introduced herself: "Hi there. I'd like to thank you for coming, and welcome you to my museum!"

Oh! I thought the Bass family donated the museum to the city of Miami Beach, like, a long time ago....

"The museum belongs to everyone, but mostly to the members ... and I am a member," the woman explained. "My name is Rebecca. I grew up in Miami Beach, but I had a breakdown, a total breakdown, when I was seventeen, and then my sister had to take care of me."

The Bitch didn't really know what to say about that and sipped her Diet Coke pensively.

"Well, I have to go mingle, but you should definitely become a member as well," Rebecca advised.

Um, I'll definitely consider it!