“Tell us about your date last night,” Lovey asked Dior.
“Oh my God.” Dior put her head in her hands. “Another disaster. I don’t understand why I’m cursed like this.”
“Oh no. What happened?”
“Well, we went for dinner. And the waitress was his ex-girlfriend.”
“Ack!”
Amber made a sympathetic face along with the others. “Did he know she worked there?”
“How could he not? He didn’t seem really surprised to see her. Then he asked her to join us after her shift was over.”
“Sweet cheese-its,” Lovey breathed.
Amber cracked up at Lovey’s funny expression. “Sweet cheese-its?”
Lovey grinned. “Hey, I can’t help it. Grew up on a dairy farm.”
“She says that stuff all the time.” Jillian waved a hand. “You get used to it. Go on, Dior.”
“I got out of there as fast as I could,” Dior said. “It was so awkward. Later on, he texted me and told me he had a really good time.” She rolled her eyes. “Sure he did, he was with his ex. Then he said, and I kid you not, ‘You have really nice boobs.’ ”
Shocked gasps filled the air. Then Lovey burst into giggles. “Shut the front door! He did not say that!”
“Oh yes he did.” Dior made a mallard mouth, nodding, and pulled out her phone to show them. They all read the offending text message.
“I can’t believe that!”
Amber laughed and commiserated too.
“The last guy I went out with showed up for our date dressed as a Ninja,” Dior told Amber.
Amber choked on a laugh. “What? Why?”
Dior shrugged. “No idea. He thought it was cool, I guess. I could go on and on about my bad dating luck. But hey, enough about that. Tell us more about your new job.”
“Have you heard of the Chicago Communities Program?”
Jillian and Leigh shook their heads, but Dior said, “I have. I work for a nonprofit too.”
“Oh cool.” She told them more about the organization. “We help neighborhoods develop partnerships to address challenges around things like employment, education, housing, and safety. My job as a program manager will be acting as an intermediary to bring together different organizations to plan and implement various improvement projects. I had ideas when I was interning with them that I hope to get to work on.”
“That sounds really amazing,” Jillian said. “You make me feel so shallow. I just sell beer.”
Amber laughed. “Beer is very important. And before I start my job, I have to get through school.” She grimaced. “Exams and thesis project to finish. Oy.”
“You’ll do fine.” Lovey gave a firm nod.
“Thanks. I appreciate the vote of confidence.”
They ordered food and watched the game, cheering loudly when the Aces scored, much to the amusement of the other bar patrons.
“They think we’re puck bunnies,” Lovey smirked at one point.
“You are,” Leigh said, pointing at her with a French fry.
“Ugh.” Amber made a face.
“I resemble that remark,” Lovey said. “A puck bunny is a girl whose interest in hockey is motivated by desire to fuck or marry a hockey player. Oh wait—that is me!”
Amber laughed reluctantly, but this made her uncomfortable.
“I’m kidding,” Lovey said, looking at Amber. “I’m only interested in one hockey player. And I know that’s true of you too. And it’s not because they’re hockey players. It’s in spite of them being hockey players.”
Amber relaxed and smiled back at Lovey. “Yeah.” That was exactly right.
“You never texted pictures of your boobs to every player on the team,” Dior said.
Lovey collapsed into laughter. “Oh my God! Can you imagine Duncan if I’d done that?” She giggled again.
“And you never went to games and held up a sign that said, ‘Put it in my five hole, Marc!’ ”
“Or ‘I want my headboard to give you a concussion, Marc!’ ”
As they all laughed, Amber remembered her headboard banging against the wall.
“Um, actually,” Lovey said, “I did hold up a sign that said ‘I love you, Marc Dupuis.’ ”
Amber bugged her eyes out at Duncan’s sister.
“It wasn’t skeevy, it was romantic,” Leigh defended Lovey. She looked at Amber and explained, “That’s how she told him she loved him.”
Amber shook her head, lips twitching. “Seriously?”
“Yeah.” Lovey gave a toothy smile. “I wanted him to know I really meant it. And it worked.”