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the
    three different carts of sizzling and highly aromatic ethnic food that
    men in varying costumes and facial hair were steaming, slicing,
    sauteing, skewering, frying, and heaving toward the hungry suits.
    "It's all some sort of meat on a stick or dough-filled something,"
    I said tonelessly, surveying the smoky meats. "Does it
    matter?"
    "Someone's in a great mood today."
    "Oh, I'm sorry, I forgot, I should be thrilled that five years of
    slave labor have turned out so well. I mean, look at us, how glam-
    orous is this?" I waved my arms expansively in front of us. "It's sad
    enough we don't get to go out to lunch at some point in the middle
    of a sixteen-hour workday, but it's fucking pathetic that we
    aren't even permitted to pick out our food ourselves."
    "This is nothing new, Bette. I don't know why you're getting so
    stressed about it now."
    "Just a particularly lousy day. If it's possible to distinguish one
    from the next."
     
    I wanted to say "Two rings?" but restrained myself as an overweight
    woman wearing a skirt suit worse than mine and a pair of
    white leather Reeboks over her tights spilled hot sauce down the
    front of her embroidered, ruffled blouse. I saw myself in ten years
    and nearly lurched forward with queasiness.
    "Of course nothing happened, that's the whole point!" I all but
    screamed. Two blond guys who looked fresh off the Princeton eating
    club path turned and looked at me curiously. I thought about
    composing myself for a minute since, well, they were both really
    cute, but I soon remembered that these obscenely hot lacrosse
    players were not only way too young, but most likely also had obscenely
    gorgeous girlfriends eight years my junior.
    "Seriously, Bette, I don't know what you're looking for. I mean,
    it's a job, right? It's still work. It doesn't matter what you do, it's
    never going to be like sitting at the country club all day long, you
    know? Sure, it sucks to spend every waking minute at work. And I
    don't exactly adore finance, either—I never fantasized about working
    at a bank—but it's just not that bad."
    Penelope's parents had tried to push her toward a position at
    Vogue or Sotheby's as the final finishing school in the pursuit of
    her Mrs. degree, but when she'd insisted on joining the rest of us
    in corporate America, they'd acquiesced—it was certainly possible
    to find a husband while working in finance, as long as she kept
    her priorities straight, didn't display any overt ambition, and quit
    immediately after the wedding. Truth be told, though, while she
    whined and complained about the job, I think she actually liked it.
    She handed over a ten-dollar bill to cover both of our "kebab"
    plates, and my eyes were drawn to her hand like a magnet. Even I
    had to admit the ring was gorgeous. I said as much, for the tenth
    time, and she beamed. It was hard to be upset about the engagement
    when she was so obviously giddy. Avery had even stepped it
    up since the proposal and had managed to impersonate a real, caring
    fiance, which of course had made her even happier. He'd met
    her after work so they could go home together, and had even
    brought her breakfast in bed. More important, he had refrained
    from clubbing, his favorite pastime, for a full three weeks now, the
    only exception being last week's soiree in their honor. Penelope
    didn't mind that Avery wanted to spend as much time as humanly
    possible wedged in between banquettes—or dancing on them—
    but she wanted no part of it. On the nights he was out with friends
    from his consulting firm, Penelope and I would sit at the Black
    Door, dive-bar extraordinaire, with Michael (when he was available),
    drinking beer and wondering why anyone would want to be
    anywhere else. But someone must've clued Avery in that while it's
    acceptable to leave your girlfriend home six nights a week, ditching
    your fiancee is different, so he'd made a concerted effort to cut
    back. I knew it would never last.
    We retraced our steps to the