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dickhead!” Carla said.
    Lissa shrugged. “He’s always been nice to me.”
    “Was he hitting on you?” I asked.
    “No, he was getting me some data from the nineteen forties on forts that he knew about.”
    “And he wasn’t a jerk to you?” I said.
    “Not a bit. He’s an awful oenophiliac, but I can forgive that in most people.”
    “You can forgive someone for having a blood-clotting disorder? That’s big of you, Liss,” Scott said.
    “Actually, it’s blood thinners he’s on, I heard,” Lissa said. “And I said ‘oenophiliac,’ not ‘hemophiliac,’ you dope. As in, if you cut him, he’d hemorrhage wine.”
    “Not lately, I’ve heard. He’s been on the wagon.”
    “Then you’re behind the times,” Jay said. “I saw him lapping it up earlier. And yeah, he’s not a bad guy. Bit opinionated, maybe.”
    “He shouldn’t be drinking, not with that ticker of his,” Scott muttered. “Petra says he’s on a boatload of new prescriptions.”
    “Well, I’ve never minded him either,” Brad chimed in.
    “Who asked you?” Carla was really annoyed now. She liked consensus in her loathing. I have to admit, I was surprised at Brad as well.
    Brad ignored Carla. “I don’t have a problem with him. He’s not a friendly guy, but he’s usually been decent to me. And look what he’s done for the field. Practically established the field in the Northeast, one of the founding members of ASAA, authored some of the most important artifact studies of the early years. You can’t deny that.”
    “Fine. By any standards, yes, he’s achieved a lot, but it’s like admiring the pyramids without asking who suffered to get it done. Runs roughshod over people, uses and abuses them.” Carla looked to Scott. “Help me out, man. Tell us some horror stories from your days as his lackey.”
    “Nope.” He fiddled with his beer bottle, giving it all hisfocus. “I don’t live in the past. It was tough, it’s over now. That’s it.”
    “You’re an archaeologist; of course you live in the past.”
    “Not me. It’s over, I don’t worry about it now.”
    Carla snorted with disgust.
    I got the bidding started and watched Jay get more and more excited. His bet—and potential raise—would tell me whether I could get away with what I planned. I mentally crossed my fingers.
    Carla said, “So did everyone see Emma’s new car? Quite the sporty little number. Jetta.”
    “How do you like it, Em?” Chris asked.
    “I like it a lot, so far. Peppy,” I said, feigning concentration.
    “Yeah, and it’s just the car for her too,” Carla said. “Heaps plenty of abuse on her, just the way Emma likes it. Little Miss Control Freak.”
    “Oh?” I said. This was a well-worn path we were traveling.
    “Yeah. You’re so uptight that when the ABS light comes on, you think it’s time to go to the gym and work on your gut.”
    “Very funny, Carla,” I said, feeling unreasonably nettled.
    Lissa was caught drinking, and ended up gargling some of her beer, not quite a nostril purge. “Yeah, and when she sees the airbag logo, she thinks the car is telling her she’s talking too much!” She almost choked again, laughing at her own joke.
    “You’re all a riot,” I said, shuffling my cards around one more time. I couldn’t understand why these retread jokes, as much a tradition as the game itself, should bother me so. “Don’t we ever talk about archaeology anymore?”
    “Jeez, Em, all we do here is talk about archaeology. This is for fun, this is us hanging out. Talking about your uptightitude, Jay’s familiarity with every croupier in every casino on the planet, Lissa’s sex life—”
    “Well, if we’re not talking shop, let’s go back to discussing Lissa’s sex life. And leave me and my foibles out of it.”
    “Fine with me,” she said, wiping the last of the beer off her chin. “Did I tell you—?”
    We heard a strangled noise come from across the table. “Emma! Play the frigging game!”
    We all turned