“I can’t believe he went for it. But look, you’re going to have to play up some disappointment. The man was nervous, certain you’d be devastated.”

“I only intimidate Edgar because I’m six foot three and can quote sports stats.” Bruce high-fived him. “I owe you big-time. Let me know if you want tickets to the game or something.”

“All right. See you later.”

“Hey, Damien?”

“Yeah?”

“Frank okay?”

“Why?”

“It’s his ex-anniversary, right?”

Damien smiled. “He’ll be fine. I’m feeding him chicken wings tonight.”

Kay put on another coat of light lipstick and got out of her Navigator. She tugged at her T-shirt, which must’ve shrunk in the wash.

Once inside, she checked into the office, then went to the gym, where the ladies were setting up the cheer moms table. “Hi. How can I help?”

Nobody bothered to look up. Nobody responded. All five women continued their conversation as if she wasn’t there. Which wasn’t unusual. It was like no one had ever taught them any social skills. She decided to start arranging the brownies on the platters.

“I wouldn’t do them like that.”

Kay looked up. Jill Toledo, dressed in a tight tank and a tighter miniskirt, stood above her, hands on her hips. “Do what?”

“I’d arrange them more stacked, so people will see them.”

“They might get knocked over or off the plate.” Kay tried to eyeball how many inches Jill’s skirt was from her knee. Six, maybe? The woman looked ridiculous.

“I’ve been doing this a long time since I’ve had three daughters in cheer, and I’m telling you that if you don’t stack the brownies, people will walk right on by. These are kids. They have no attention span.”

“What about these balloons we’ve got tied here? That’ll draw attention.”

“Yeah. Right. Like this is fourth grade.”

Kay glanced behind Jill at two of the other moms who were watching. She tried a smile, but they just stared. This was her first year as a cheer mom. She’d been against Jenna trying out for cheerleading, but Damien had convinced her Jenna was really good at it. She hated how pressured the girls were to wear those tight, belly-exposing uniforms. “All right. I’ll stack the brownies. No problem.”

Jill spun around. “Who has the change bag?”

“Nobody’s picked it up,” one lady said.

“Can’t anybody do anything around here?” Jill threw her hands up. Fifteen bracelets clanked against each other. “I’ll be back.”

As Jill stomped away, Kay took in a deep breath. All this drama over brownies? She began taking the brownies, which she’d laid in a perfectly acceptable circle, off the platter and started over.

“Don’t worry about her.” An attractive woman with a sleek ponytail and darkly lined eyes stood next to the table.

“Oh, um…”

“I’ve done cheer moms with her twice, and she’s a total control freak. I’m Shannon Branson, by the way.”

“Kay Underwood.”

The blonde behind leaned in. “She’s having an affair.”

Shannon glanced at her. “Kelly, you’re serious?”

“Totally serious. Susan told me.”

Susan popped up from a box she was digging through. “Nobody really knows what’s going on, except she’s coming home at two in the morning. That’s what her neighbor told me.”

“How do you know her neighbor?” Kelly asked.

“We go to church together.”

Kay tried a casual lean against the table. “All I know is she and Mike are getting a divorce.”

Shannon’s eyes widened. “No kidding.”

“Yeah, um, she told me herself.” Not exactly true. She’d heard something about it while eavesdropping on one of Jenna’s phone conversations.

“Maybe that explains her mood,” Kelly said, then looked at Kay, putting a hand over her arm. “Well, whatever. Don’t mind her. She’s a brat and always has been, which is probably why she’s getting a divorce. Did she say anything else about it?”

Susan said, “The day we were making the posters, I went to the bathroom and she was on her cell phone in there, really upset and crying.”

Kelly roared with laughter. “I see where Natalie gets her drama-queen genes. According to my Madison, Natalie cries at the drop of a hat.” She checked her watch. “The kids will be here in about fifteen. Kay, you want to come with me, grab some Starbucks for us?”

“Yeah, we’ll definitely need Starbucks,” Susan said. “You’ll be our lifesaver and forever friend!”

Kay smiled. “Sure, I’ll go with you.” As they walked off, Kay grinned and looked over her shoulder. “But, Susan, whatever you do, stack those brownies.”

The women howled.

Frank devoured fourteen chicken wings before he spoke a word to Damien, who never kept up, though he tried hard. The problem with Damien was his aversion to gristle, which slowed him down considerably.

Frank downed another bottle of beer and turned the sound up on the television, which had picture-in-picture going so they could watch the ESPN highlight show and the NFL game.

Damien popped open another can of Mountain Dew. “So, how’d it go?” he asked, wiping his mouth and reaching for a few more wings.

“Okay.”

“Okay?” Damien leaned forward. “That’s different.”

“It’s a hard day for me, but I made it through.”

“That’s good, right?”

“That’s good. Maybe it’s getting easier.”

“It probably helped that you didn’t look through your old photo albums.”

“Yeah. Thanks for taking those.”

“Have another chicken wing.”

“My tongue is on fire,” Frank said. “Just the way I like it. You know, the first sign that Angela and I might not make it was the day I ordered chicken wings to surprise her for our anniversary.”

“A good woman loves chicken wings.”

“I know, and I totally thought she was that kind of woman. I really did. I mean, she smokes cigars sometimes. How can she hate chicken wings?”

“I don’t know, dude. Women are hard to figure out. Kay’s going through some sort of high school crisis with the cheerleading mothers. And she’s got a weird aversion to anything Jenna wears that doesn’t look like she stepped off an Amish buggy. I don’t get women, even my own.”

“You’re lucky to have ’em.”

“There are other women out there, looking for someone as loyal as you. In fact, there’s a woman at the office who-”

Frank held out a saucy hand. “Don’t want to hear it.”

“All right, fine. I tried.”

“It’s practically part of our yearly tradition now.”

“Speaking of traditions, let’s get War started.”

Frank hopped up. “Hold on. I gotta show you something. Follow me.” He led Damien downstairs to the basement, where his computer was.

“Aw, man. No, no. Let’s not do this tonight. I was in such a good mood,” Damien moaned.

“It’s not what you think.”

“That’s what you always say, and then the next thing I know, you’re showing me how to install a webcam or a wireless device. And although I appreciate the coolness of GPS, I just don’t want it.”

Frank sighed. “How do you even live in this world? Honestly. It’s not like you have to program anything. I think you must be still scarred from the early days of the VCR. Computers are easy to use.”

“You’re not going to be saying that when they take over the world and start hunting us for food.”

“Funny. If that happens, they’re going after you first because you don’t even know how to turn one off.”

“Now you’re being mean.”

Frank laughed. “You’d score huge points with Hunter if you showed him you were at least open to the idea of computers.”

“Computers are doing nothing but dumbing down our society.”

“Well, at least you’re keeping the resource department open at the library.”

“You should darken the door of a library once in a while. You might like it.”

“Yes. The Dewey decimal system is infinitely fascinating. Pull up a chair.”