the cool leather banquette. Zoe nodded. They took turns choosing, matching the game to the chooser’s mood. They’d started with the chess and backgammon in the café’s collection, and then moved to games they brought themselves.
Fifteen minutes later, the three watched Emily Decker push through the door in a chic pantsuit, trailed by her husband Barry, who held two shopping bags by their handles. Emily hustled to the booth, determinedly kissed each woman on the cheek, smelling of her personally blended perfume mixed with expensive car leather, then slid in beside Kitty.
Barry set the shopping bags at his wife’s feet. “I’ll pick you up in three hours,” he said, then gave the rest of the Chickateers a weak smile. He probably saw them as evil witches stirring up trouble over a bubbling brew. After one Game Night discussion, Emily had declared him a flop at oral sex; after another she’d convinced him to propose marriage.
“We were shopping for a valance for the guest bathroom,” Emily explained. “Later, I’ll show you some swatches.” Emily had quit her job at a bank and now devoted herself to fixing up the home in Scottsdale they’d recently bought. To Claire, she seemed bored. The Chickateers already had been forced to admire her choice in kitchen knobs and light-switch plates.
Barry was kind of a schlub, and yet Claire couldn’t help thinking how great it would be to have a man willing to shop for something as mundane as a valance. What heterosexual man even knew what one was? Or cared? Jared, she’d thought. But she’d been wrong about Jared. Completely wrong.
“So what’s the game?” Kitty asked Emily. She filled Emily’s wineglass with the “cunning” pinot noir she’d selected for their first bottle. Kitty always chose the wine.
Emily took an eager sip and held up her glass. The other three joined her in their traditional toast: “All for one and one for all…No sniveling!” Except that’s exactly what Claire would be doing tonight.
Emily reached into one of the shopping bags and lifted out a board game, which she set on the table. “Voilà!”
“‘Life’?” Kitty asked in amazement. “You brought ‘The Game of Life’?”
“Yeah. Isn’t it perfect? It was in a toy-store display window and I couldn’t resist. I loved playing this as a kid. Choosing my career, earning my paycheck, getting married, putting the little pink and blue kids in my car…” She opened the lid as she talked, laid out the board and began to separate the money denominations.
“The Game of Life.” How ironic, since Claire seemed to be losing her own private version. All messed up with love and uncertain at work, with an apartment she could no longer afford. So much for her perfect life. The bright, cheery game board blurred as her eyes filled. Enough with the self-pity, already. She ducked her nose into her wineglass to hide.
“Pick a car color. I’ll be yellow,” Emily said, shuffling the career and income cards.
Kitty grabbed the red car and Zoe said, “Green or blue, Claire?”
Claire couldn’t speak, and a single fat tear plopped onto the table.
“What’s wrong?” Zoe turned to look Claire full in the face.
Claire would be strong about this. She brushed the water from her cheeks and lifted her chin. “A demonstration,” she said. She picked up the green car and inserted a little pink person into it. “Here’s me, right?” Then she took a little blue person. “Jared goes here, right?” She started to put it beside the pink person, then stopped. “No, because he’s already here.” She stuck the blue token into Emily’s yellow car. “Jared’s married.”
“He’s what?” Zoe exclaimed, sucking in a breath.
“No!” Kitty and Emily said, jaws sagging like in a bad comedy sketch. The three friends looked from Claire to each other and back…twice. Their shock made her feel loads better.
“But, I thought Pinkie was moving in with you,” Kitty said. Over one too many Fuzzy Navels, Claire had once mentioned that Jared’s penis was a pinkish color and Kitty had seized on it as a nickname.
“How did you find out?” Emily asked.
“A radio call-in show.”
“No!” all three said at once.
“Oh, yes.” She told them the whole K-BUZ debacle, gratified by their horror and anger on her behalf. “So, Happy V Day to me.” She took a drink of wine.
“Screw Valentine’s Day,” Kitty said. “It’s just a plot by the jewelry industry to soak men for big bucks and make single women feel like roadkill.”
“I’m so sorry, Claire,” Emily said. Emily’s advice would be practical and down-to-earth, which Claire valued, even if it came via bulldozer, aka, Emily’s way or the highway.
“I really thought he loved me,” Claire said.
“I’m sure he does love you.” Zoe pulled her into her banana-paba-smelling arms for a quick hug. “He’s just a little…well…mixed-up.”
“Well, duh,” Kitty said.
“Did he explain himself?” Zoe asked.
“His wife and he have grown apart. He didn’t realize it until he met me.”
“And started getting regular blow jobs,” Kitty added.
“Kitty!” Zoe said.
“It’s true. I bet Lindi-with-an-i hasn’t delivered since she got him to say ‘I do.’”
“It’s more than that,” Claire said, though Jared did seem stunned and grateful when she performed that particular act. “Anyway, he says we can work things out.”
“And of course you told him to go piss up a rope,” Emily said.
Claire didn’t answer.
Kitty shook her head and tsked. “I wish you’d help yourself the way you help us.”
Claire felt another tear escape and roll down her cheek.
Zoe hugged her again and they all remained supportively silent while Zoe frantically patted Claire’s back. And patted.
When she felt welts forming, Claire gently extracted herself. She blew her nose on the tissue Emily proffered, forced a watery smile and lifted her wineglass in a toast. “Come on. No sniveling!”
“You just snivel away,” Zoe said. “This is a special occasion. Right, girls?”
The four clinked glasses, then took a solemn drink in Claire’s honor.
“What do you want us to do to Pinkie?” Kitty demanded, her eyes gleaming in the golden light. “Blow his cover with Lindi-with-an-i? Slash his tires? Trash his apartment?”
“Kitty!” Zoe said. Zoe kept trying to tone Kitty down, but they all knew it was no use and loved her for trying anyway. And Kitty for refusing to change.
“It’s the company’s apartment,” Claire said gloomily. “He was going to move in
