Innuendo. Crystal Green

pretty much screened the men for each other. It’s not a perfect system—sometimes a creep or two slimes through the cracks—but they always make for a good Monday story.”

      Pamela’s voice rang out again. “And the beauty of it is that you don’t need to go into it thinking you’ll end up with this man forever.” She went back to her stance against the wall, folding her arms across her chest again. “I sure as hell don’t.”

      Tam didn’t really know what to say or if this was even something she should consider taking part in. It was exciting to have a vaseful of opportunity within reach…but daunting. It’d been so long since she’d been out in the dating world. Did she even have social skills anymore?

      God, she wasn’t sure. It was nice that they’d decided she was the perfect candidate, but none of them had any idea just how exhausted Tam was, just how many guys she’d tried to connect with and failed. To complicate matters, the failures were likely caused by her sabotaging the relationships before the men could abandon her.

      She thought about the last pseudo-affair: John Yarborough. They’d go out for a movie and dinner, get it on, then take up where they’d left off the next weekend. The thing was, their interaction had never gone anywhere beyond the sex-and-cinema nights.

      What was it about her that made people—men, her own mother—want to leave?

      No matter, she thought. She’d done everything she could to protect herself from ever hurting again: taking jobs as a temp, dating a chain of guys who, in retrospect, showed no inkling of constancy….

      Yet something Pamela had said stuck with Tam.

      The beauty of it is that you don’t need to go into it thinking you’ll end up with this man forever.

      They made it sound so easy, as if she had control over what could happen.

      “Listen,” Danica said, sympathy in her gaze. “If you don’t want to do it, don’t. But I know you’re ready for this. It’s just a way to find a good time and get to know more people. Who knows? You could meet your best guy friend out there. And you can trust the recommendation of every woman here. We’re like you—decent, hardworking…a little horny.”

      Echoes of amused agreement sounded throughout the room, accompanied by a couple of encouraging looks directed at Tam.

      The Boot was placed back on the table.

      “Why don’t you sit back and watch how it works?” Teena said. “Then you can decide if it’s what you want.”

      While Tam listened as the women began their ritual by sharing their dating adventures from over the weekend, she wished she could tell them that she would give anything if they could guarantee a man who treated her as naturally and nicely as they had. A man who would allow her to finally be that footloose-and-fancy-free woman who was in charge of her own destiny and feelings, a woman who did more than just dress the part. He didn’t have to be her soul mate—jeez, she’d prefer that he wasn’t at this point, because she wasn’t ready to settle down—just a playmate would be nice.

      Yeah, she thought, warming up to the idea. A light, casual thing. A baby step. She still didn’t have the energy to try for anything more yet. Not until she’d accomplished her goal of finding herself.

      As the conversation continued, the women’s stories ranged from sad to optimistic to funny. A few women, including Julia Nguyen, had even planned for second dates this weekend with the same guys.

      All too soon, it was time to draw from the vase. Tam held her breath as Danica went first.

      Her coworker held the card up to her face; she’d left her reading glasses in the office. Squinting, she said, “Dana Didrickson, attorney at law.”

      “Oooo,” Teena said. “That was mine!”

      Danica lowered the card. “He’s got a girl’s name.”

      “Read my comment, would you?”

      Squinting again, Danica continued. “‘Polite, smart, witty, but might need a woman who is up to the challenge of dragging him away from the office.’”

      Teena was shaking her finger in the air. “He’s a good one, but I’ve had my fill of workaholics.”

      Tam glanced at her lap. She understood Teena all too well. Her own dad had lapsed into the office disease after divorcing her mom. True, he’d still showered Tam with affection, usually in the form of money, and he’d petitioned for custody—and won—but that didn’t mean life without him at the dinner table every night was easy.

      Danica had popped to her feet, a bundle of energy. “I’m up for a challenge, baby. Bring him on!”

      To applause, Teena happily went on to describe the attorney’s physical pluses while another woman drew from the vase. Three more plucked business cards out of The Boot, too, before it was Tam’s turn.

      “Last draw today,” Julia Nguyen said. “Tamara, you can take a card and put it back during the week, if you want. We always keep The Boot on the table, okay?”

      “Just go for it,” Milla Page said, smiling at her from across the room.

      “What can it hurt?” added Mercedes Estevez.

      Danica gave Tam a supportive nudge.

      New friends, new experiences, a way to get out of the house, maybe even an entertaining time with someone….

      What the hell.

      Taking a deep breath, Tam stuck her hand inside the vase, grappled around, then came out with a card.

      “Julia Nguyen?” Tam said, confused at seeing the woman’s name embossed on the thick paper.

      “I had to use my own business card,” she said, clearly excited to have her recommended man in the spotlight. “Turn it over for my note.”

      Tam did, hardly surprised to find an organized bulleted list of attributes. She read them out loud. “‘Gorgeous gray-blue eyes. Charmer. Dark hair that curls at the ends. Sexy. Waiter. Free spirit.’”

      Free spirit. Could he show her the way? Tam’s pulse started to thump.

      “He was young,” Julia said. “Late twenties, I think, and not what you would call successful yet. He’s a waiter, but talked about owning his own place a lot. When I saw that he didn’t have a card, that told me where he is in life, and it’s not where I need a man to be. Still, very, very—”

      Teena interrupted. “She wouldn’t throw him outta bed for eatin’ crackers.”

      Bumpity-bump. Tam’s heart wouldn’t shut up.

      She would be in charge of this one, right? If she could just go into it with no expectations, she could relax and have a little fun.

      What did she have to lose?

      She glanced at the handwritten name and number on the card: “Kyle Sullivan. Work number: 555-8375.”

      Her baby step into freedom.

      LATER THAT AFTERNOON, a hop skip and a jump away in Union Square, Murphy Sullivan sat at a table in Amidala, the hottest new restaurant from Chef Miike. Known for his experimental Japanese-French fusion dishes, the chef had a cooking show on The Food Channel as well as an avid following of tourists and locals alike. The menu was cutting edge and so was the decor: dark, shiny, modern furniture with avant-garde paintings and sculptures. The main dining room was tinted with chic Blade Runner-style touches, the bar lit by low, soft-blue lighting.

      Now, an hour before opening, Murphy thought the clientele wouldn’t have recognized the atmosphere. Instead of seeing waiters, busboys and bartenders shined to a polish in their white jackets and black ties, they would’ve found a group of loud, raucous poker enthusiasts gathered around a linen-clad table, shouting and joking with each other. This was the time to let go—the hour before the sun began to set and the jackets would have