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the kitchen, making another drink, of course. Matt and Jeff are at the foosball table they have set up in the dining area. I figure it’s a good time to ask the guys what they want to order.
    I turn my body halfway around on the couch.
    “Hey!” I shout, looking at each of them. “What kind of pizzas should I order? And I’m not ordering a shitload, either. Four is plenty.”
    Once again I’m the mother hen, and I don’t want them throwing a bunch of different preferences on how they like their pizza at me.
    “I like the pineapple one. You know, with ham on it, too,” says Jared while he’s still messing around with the remote.
    “Of course Jared likes the ‘pineapple’ one,” Roger chimes in from the kitchen. Rolling my eyes, I look over at him.
    “Well, what do you want, Roger?” I ask.
    “Meat lover’s, baby.” He winks at me as he starts making his way into the living area. I look behind my shoulder and ask what Matt and Jeff want, but they’re not even paying attention. They couldn’t care less.
    “Okay, I will get one with pineapple and ham.” I touch Jared’s leg and smile. “I like that one too.” Glancing back over at Roger, I continue, “I will order one meat lover’s, a supreme, and maybe just a plain pepperoni and cheese one. Sounds good?” I turn around and look back at Matt and Jeff.
    “Sure, sounds good,” they mumble.
    After I’m done with the order, Jared gently cleans off his movie by rubbing it on his shirt.
    “These damn players nowadays. One little scratch and they don’t play for shit.”
    Once he pops it back in, though, it starts right up.
    “Cool,” he says and hops back on the couch.
    When the pizzas arrive, we all sit around the living room with our beers in hand and begin to watch the movie. Halfway through, Roger grunts and stands up.
    “Fuck, see these Hanson brothers? That’s what Detroit needs. Ever since they lost Tootoo, last season sucked!”
    “Hey, man. They’re kicking ass this year. It just took them getting used to the Eastern Conference last year, is all,” Matt laughs.
    Oh my God, don’t get Roger started on the Red Wings. It will be the topic of discussion all fucking night. Roger looks over and points at Matt.
    “Yeah, that shit, too. But Christ, at least when they had Tootoo, nobody pushed them around as much. And what the fuck did they do? Halfway through season they sent him packing back to the minors. Now look, he’s a fucking Jersey Devil. Shit!”
    “So . . .” I change the subject. I like watching hockey, yes. But talking about it all night? No! “Who wants to challenge me in a game?” I gesture with my thumb over to the foosball table.
    “I will,” Jeff says as he stands. Roger gets up and puts on some music.
    “Yeah, it’s about that time,” he says, and after the music starts playing, he walks over to the island. “Sophia, you want another beer?” he asks me.
    “Yes, please,” I say back to him just as Jeff pushes the ball through the hole. Since this will be the last night I will see my boys for a couple weeks, I might as well get a little buzzed.
    After a few games, which I totally got my ass kicked in, Roger comes over to me.
    “Hey, girl. Do you mind if I invite a couple of chicks over?”
    Why would he even ask me that? He never has before. I don’t care who they hang around with. And I really do like Tiffany.
    “Is Tiffany one of them?” I smile up at him, still trying to keep my focus on the game.
    Roger smiles back at me.
    “Of course.”
    I nod my head, grinning, and continue on. The next song that comes on is Stone Sour’s “Through the Glass.”
    “Hey! Who put this sappy song on?” Roger yells.
    I smack him with my free hand while trying to make a comeback against Jeff.
    “Shut up!” I say. “This is a good one.”
    I’m not even paying attention to what is happening when all of a sudden, there’s a knock at the front door. Hmm. Must be the chicks already. Roger goes and answers the door.