“Firstly,” said the woman, “you notice everything, it’s one your defining characteristics, and secondly, hi, my name’s Lauren.”

“And I’m Leah,” said the final woman, who was sitting up against the end of Nina’s bed. The room was beautiful, but with four people it was a little cramped.

Lauren had dark hair with a natural wave, and a sardonic sense of humor. She wrote for TV and mined everyone’s life for material. She was single and generally horrified by the human race, particularly that segment of it that lived and dated in Los Angeles. Leah, on the other hand, was recently engaged and currently freaking out.

“Also,” continued Lauren, “Leah, Lauren, and Laura sounds like a singing trio from the 1960s.”

“I think it would be Laura, Lauren, and Leah,” said Nina, interrupting. “Alphabetical.”

“Or Lauren, Laura, and Leah, that’s the best one,” said Leah.

“Now none of them sound like names at all,” said Nina. “Can we get back to the point?”

Laura realized she’d walked in on the middle of something. Nina turned to explain.

“Leah got engaged a month ago.”

“Congratulations,” said Laura, because that’s what you say.

“Thanks,” said Leah, because that’s what they say.

“But,” continued Nina, “now she’s flipping out because she isn’t sure she wants to get married.” She sat down in the armchair and pulled her legs up under her.

“To her fiancé, or at all?” asked Laura.

“She doesn’t know,” said Nina.

“I don’t know,” said Leah.

“Both,” said Lauren.

“Huh,” said Laura. They all looked at her, as if waiting for her opinion, which they couldn’t possibly want. She plucked at the fabric of her yoga pants and looked down.

“Well? What do you think?” asked Nina.

They did want her opinion. Laura swallowed. “Uh, well, being engaged and being married are two different things. Do one at a time.”

Leah gazed at her, then looked at Nina. “You didn’t say she was Yoda.”

“Or Forrest Gump,” said Lauren, raising her eyebrows. “No offense meant,” she added.

“Never saw it,” said Laura, “so no offense taken.”

Leah sighed. “I think that’s probably good advice, though.” She smiled at Laura. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome,” said Laura, not sure how she’d managed to say the right thing.

“Right, then,” said Nina, “here’s the deal. Trivia teams play in leagues, and theoretically the winner of each round in the league goes forward, but in practice it’s largely disorganized and ad hoc.” She leapt up and pulled a T-shirt from a basket under her bed. It read First Loser in a classic baseball-type script. “This is the T-shirt my boyfriend, Tom, got when they came in second last year.”

“They call second place First Loser? Wow, that’s harsh.” Laura was surprised. Who knew trivia could be so competitive?

Nina shrugged. “I guess someone thought it was funny.”

“And you guys won?”