When Jessica arrived at Brentano Hall, she found Jack waiting for her outside the back door, smoking a joint.
“Whoa. Holy Hollywood makeover, Batman. You look amazing.” He grinned as he passed her the smoke. “Is it true what Nietzsche says, vanity keeps the well-dressed woman warm?”
“Try hot.” She wished she could give him a makeover, but it was too late for that. They’d have to take him as is.
She fixed the broken Gucci strap with duck-tape, and sloshed around the basement getting everything set up for the big game, unfolding tables and covering them with green felt cloths, cutting limes and lemons to garnish the drinks, counting out stacks of poker chips, and making sure she had the guys’ preferred liquors.
As she worked, she thought of family poker games back home when her grandfath
