She was everything a man like you should have in a woman. Tall, thin, blonde. Not really pretty in the classical sense, but stunning in a very contemporary way. She worked odd hours, you claimed, so when I asked if she could join us for lunch one afternoon, you told me no. Dinner, then? I offered. Again, no. “She doesn’t really like the summer heat,” you explained.
Correction—she didn’t like the sun, but we didn’t find that out until later, did we?
Finally you decided to throw a couple’s engagement party. Not bachelor or bachelorette, but both together. It started at eight P.M. Sunday night, which is a little late given that we needed to work the next day, but I kept my mouth shut.
If I said something then, would things be different now?
I brought along my sister Chelsea, who wore a pa
