Nicole, olive complexioned, with dark, seductive eyes, was as statuesque as any runway model. And although none of the friends could be considered at all unattractive, she was the most hit upon. To the dismay of her would-be suitors, she was also the woman with the oldest marriage license and most number of kids—three.

“Deposition over and done,” Nicole said. “It is so weird having the absolute goods on someone, and sitting in a deposition listening to them lie.”

“A-gree,” Kim said. “I’m as big a baseball fan as the next person, but to hell with a grand slam home run or a no-hitter. Lying under oath is the true Great American Pastime.”

“And I am now absolutely ready to participate in the other Great American Pastime.” She caught the bartender’s eye with little trouble. “Wild Turkey, neat.”

“Oooh! That kind of day, huh?”

“Loooooong,” Nicole said as her drink appeared on the bar.

Kim could not resist another glance at the touchy-feely couple, and Nicole caught her looking. “Do you think they’re really happy?” Kim asked.

Both women watched as the couple kissed lightly.

“I wouldn’t say they’re unhappy,” Nicole said. “But I remind you of the first rule of Pepsi Generation sanity.”

“I know. I know. Never go around comparing your insides to everyone else’s outsides. I think we need to start importing more men. Is it just my imagination, or is every guy in D.C. married, or gay?”

“There are still some eligibles rooting about. It’s not like you weren’t a former beauty queen, darling,” Nicole replied. “You just don’t flaunt it.”

“I don’t think my eighty-hour workweeks have done much for my overall desirability, that’s for sure.”

“Trust me, you’re still a stunner,” Nicole said.

Kim gave her friend a hug. “Flattery, my dear, will get you another drink.”

“And a little cleavage on display will get you half a dozen.”

As if on cue, the bartender motioned to Kim and guided a bottle of Amstel Light down the crowded bar to her.

“I take it back,” Nicole said. “With a face like that, you can keep your cleavage in the henhouse.”

“You sure you got the right woman?” Kim asked the man.

“He was very clear it was for you.”

“He, who?” Kim asked, looking over at a pod of perhaps a dozen and a half eager twenty- and thirty-somethings beginning the evening’s hustle.

“I … don’t see him.”

“Well, what did he look like?”

“I didn’t really notice. He looked like … all of them. What can I say? I think he wore glasses. Maybe dark hair. I do know when he passed me the drink, he had slid money for the beer and an extra two bucks between the bottle and the coaster.”

“Two bucks?” Nicole exclaimed.

The bartender chuckled. “If it had been a five, I might have remembered him better.”