“You saw Gabe Kaplan?” Sherri was impressed. She loved Welcome Back, Kotter. She loved all the shows; whatever happened to be on TV was her mother’s only form of entertainment, so Sherri left it on in the background for hours at a time. But her mother’s true pleasure had been to listen to Sherri practice the organ, nodding along to the music she knew by heart, a look of concern crossing her face when Sherri missed a note.

As they crested the hill, Sherri saw the building. It was modern and earthy, with massive overhangs and stucco walls, sprawling and as flat as a sheet cake. It was easy to look at; it didn’t compete with the landscape but managed to appear as if it had grown out of it. Most of her life she’d imagined the Playboy resort as a dirty place, forbidden. But up close it was almost disappointingly normal, not tacky at all. Tasteful, even. What had she expected, some brothel like the ones in the movies about the Wild West?

Roberta had to drive around to find a parking spot. The resort was pretty busy for a blustery Tuesday morning. “Hurry,” she said. “The interview starts in two minutes.”

“You go ahead,” Sherri said. “I don’t want to make you late.”

“But the woman I contacted, she’s expecting you.”

“I don’t even care if I work here.”

Roberta was visibly annoyed. “Then why’d you come?”

“Because you asked!” Sherri started to cry again, and a fresh round of tears began to flow. “I wanted to do something with you. We never do things together anymore. You were my best friend.”

“Oh, Sher.” It was clear that Roberta was moved. “I’ll always be your best friend. Just do this for me, OK? I really want this job or I’ll have to sell jeans at the fucking mall forever. Please don’t make me look bad by skipping out now. Just interview. It won’t take long.”

Sleet began to gather and thicken on the windshield. What could Sherri do? “Fine. Go on ahead, you go first. I’ll be there in a few minutes.” It didn’t matter; they’d never hire her, not with Roberta for competition, and not the way she looked that morning after crying her guts out.

When she finally approached the building, the doorman opened the thick glass doors. “Welcome to Playboy, dear!” He said it as if Playboy was more than just the resort; like it was a way of life. Maybe for some people, but certainly not Sherri.