Page 36 of Pity Pact

“Really?” Cami sounds equal parts horrified and delighted that such a person exists. “What do you want?”

“I’d settle for the courthouse and a reception at the Rib Barn if I could just find a guy.”

Before she can respond to that, another woman joins us. Her hair is teased so high it’s like she just escaped from Texas. She’s the redhead who asked about drinking. “Hey!” she practically shouts at us. “My name is Brittany!” She’s still yelling.

“I’m Paige, and this is Cami.”

“What?” she shouts again. I can’t help but wonder if she’s hard of hearing, so I flash her the only American Sign Language I remember from fifth grade. I’m either saying it’s nice to meet you, or I’ve declared war on her village. My teacher was a firm believer that we should be able to say a wide variety of things.

Looking at my hands, she demands, “What are you doing?” But before I can answer her, she tips her head to the side and presses her hand to her ear. Then in a much quieter voice, she says, “That’s better. I’ve had water stuck in my ear all day.”

“Why?” Cami asks.

“I’m taking an aquatic aerobics class, and I get water trapped in my ears almost every time.”

I wish we had an indoor pool in town. I would love to swim in the winter. “Do you like it?” I ask.

Her brow scrunches up. “No, it’s annoying.”

“Not the water in your ear,” I explain. “The aerobics class.”

She nods her head in understanding. “It’s just me and a bunch of retired people, but my butt is firming up so I’m not complaining.” I briefly wonder if Steve had considered exercise before going to such extreme lengths to enhance his booty.

“What do you do for a living?” Cami asks Brittany.

“I’m a longshoreman from Chicago.”

“Really?” I don’t mean to sound so surprised, but not only have I never met a longshoreman, but I guess I always assumed they were men. Burly men with beards and pot bellies—a plethora of naked mermaid tattoos on their arms. Not petite redheads with impish smiles.

Before she can answer, Cami asks, “What do longshoremen do?”

Brittany picks a thread off her skirt while saying, “I unload boats that come into the docks.”

“By hand?” This woman must be a veritable superhero of strength.

She eyes me skeptically. “With a forklift.”

“Huh,” Cami interjects. “It’s amazing how many different kinds of jobs are out there that I know nothing about.” She smiles at Brittany. “That’s pretty cool.”

“Thanks.” Brittany doesn’t sound like she’s sure she believes Cami.

To bridge any divide that might be developing, I announce, “I drove a pickup truck once.” They both look at me like I’m an idiot, so I add, “It was a stick. It was hard.”

Cami’s face scrunches up in confusion before turning to Brittany. She says, “I rent a duplex in Wrigleyville. How about you?”

“I have a condo on Lake Shore Drive.”

Lake Shore Drive is a swanky address and before I can stop myself, I blurt out, “Being a longshoreman must be pretty lucrative.”

“It’s okay, but I don’t make enough money to buy a condo like mine. I’m lucky I can cover the HOA fees on my salary.” She lowers her voice and adds, “I inherited, but I’d rather not advertise that. I don’t want to meet a guy who only wants me for my real estate.”

“We won’t say a word,” I promise.

And just like that, I’m feeling better about being on this show. I’ve already met two nice women. If I can do that within ten minutes, surely there might be one man for me.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

TIM

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