E was recounting a story of her friend – the one with the difficult relationship past.
They were at Pal’s the day that Trumpet closed on its building here in MidCity and the whole office was in there celebrating. Her friend looked over at one of the guys and told E, “Whoa, he’s hot.” And E suggested, “Why don’t you go talk to him?” And her friend said, “Nah, I’m not his type, he prefers blondes.” And E asked, “How do you know?” And the friend said, “Because his wife is blonde.”
E was giving me a pedicure and I laughed out loud.
D had was slouched in a chair – having ridden by on her bike and needing to cool off.
I said, “Well it’s true, gentlemen do prefer blondes.”
D said without missing a beat, “Let them.”