“I’m not putting him on the phone,” Ben said.

“Well, tell him I better see him when you guys come home for Thanksgiving. By the way, do you know if you’re coming in Tuesday or Wednesday yet?”

“It’s still three weeks away. I have no idea,” Ben said. Hoping to change the subject he asked, “What else is going on at home?”

“Nothing really,” Sheila said. “I got a piece of mail for you today. It looked like an important bill, so I didn’t know if you wanted me to open it before I sent it to you.”

“Who’s it from?” Ben asked.

“The return address says ‘Mailboxes and Things.’ It has a big stamp on it that says ‘Second Notice.’”

Recognizing the name of the store where he had opened his P.O. box, Ben was confused. He’d already paid them in advance, he thought. “Open it,” he said.

“It’s definitely a bill,” she said. “It says that if you don’t pay the balance, your P.O. box, number thirteen twenty-seven, will be closed, and your mail confiscated. Why do you have a P.O. box, Benjamin?”

“What was the number of the box?” Ben asked, ignoring his mother’s question.

“Thirteen twenty-seven.”

“It must be a mistake. That’s not my box.”

“Should I send you the bill?”

“No, I’ll just go down there tomorrow to fix it. Listen, I really have to go. Give my love to Dad.” Ben hung up the phone and returned to the living room.

“Are you coming out with us?” Ober asked. “We’re going to celebrate my promotion.”

“Of course I’m coming,” Ben said, grabbing his coat from the hall closet. “Miracles like this happen only once a decade.”

Walking into Boosin’s Bar, Ober inhaled the smell of stale beer and smoldering cigarettes. “Ahhh, there’s nothing like bar whiff,” he said. “I feel like I’m back in college.” Their regular haunt since they had arrived in D.C., Boosin’s was the second home for much of Washington’s young shirt-and-tie crowd. It wasn’t long before they were approached by their regular waitress at their usual spot in the back.

“Hey, Tina,” Ben said.

“What’s happening?” she asked.

“Ober got promoted today. We’re hoping to fill him with so much beer that he falls down and vomits in joyous celebration.”

“I’ll see what I can do,” she said as she headed to the bar. She returned with two pitchers and four glasses. After filling each of the roommates’ glasses, Nathan raised his glass in a toast.

“To Ober. May dumb luck embrace you in all of your travails.”

After the friends toasted, Ben put his hand on Ober’s shoulder. “I’m really proud of you, my friend.”

“Wow, a compliment from the Job Guru himself.”

“I’m serious,” Ben said. “No matter how it happened, we all know you deserve that promotion.”

“I don’t know,” Ober said. “I mean, I’m still not a Supreme Court clerk.”

“You don’t have to be a clerk,” Ben said. “All you have to do is be yourself.”

“And always let your conscience be your guide!” Eric and Nathan sang.

A half hour later, Ober was tapped on the shoulder by a beautiful brown-haired woman, dressed in a jet-black designer pantsuit. “Do you mind if we join you?” she asked.

“Lila!” Ober shouted. “What are you doing here?” After getting up to hug the stranger, he looked at his roommates and explained, “This is Lila Jospin. We used to fool around in college.”

“That’s a wonderful introduction,” Ben said. Shaking Lila’s hand, he said, “You are obviously a woman of fine taste. Nice to meet you.”

“You, too,” Lila said.

“Looks like you brought some friends. How many are you?” Ober asked as he began to pull together tables to make more room.

“There are four of us,” Lila said as her three friends approached the table.

“Perfect,” Ober said. “Absolutely perfect.”

At seven-thirty Tuesday morning, Ben entered the office. “You’re late,” Lisa said as he collapsed on the sofa.

“I’m tired,” he said.

“Where were you last night? Drowning your sorrows in beer?”

“Last night, I’ll have you know, there were no sorrows to be found. Last night was full of joy.”

“So you went out to a bar, found a woman, and took her home. Big deal. Who do you think you are, William the Conqueror?”

“Actually, I picture myself more as Magellan. He was so much more regal and imposing-a true visionary. Like myself, he was a Renaissance man living in a world that rarely understood him.”

“Actually, he was a misogynist barbarian who barely understood what he had found. In that sense, you are alike.” Leaning back in her chair, Lisa put her hands behind her head. “So, aren’t you going to ask me how my date went last night?”

“You had a date?” Ben asked, raising an eyebrow.

“What’s so surprising about that? I’m a strong woman with needs of her own.”

“Why didn’t you tell me you were going on a date?”

“Because you’d tease me about it.”

“I’m still going to tease you about it. Now tell me, who was the poor victim?”

“His name is Jonathan Kord. He works in Senator Greiff’s office.”

“Oh my God! Jonathan Kord? I know that guy! A friend of mine, may she rest in peace, went out with him.”

“You don’t know him,” Lisa said, grabbing a handful of paper clips and throwing them at Ben.

“I don’t need to. With a name like Jonathan, I can tell he’s stale.”

“What are you talking about? Jonathan’s a great name. His friends all call him Jon.”

“But he goes by Jonathan, doesn’t he?” Lisa was silent. “I knew it!” Ben shouted. “He’s stale.”

“He didn’t taste stale,” Lisa shot back.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Ben said, sitting up straight on the sofa. “Did you really get some play last night?”

“I might’ve,” Lisa teased. “But even if I didn’t, I get to know that you’re jealous.”

“I’m not jealous.”

“Then why does your face match the sofa?”

“Trust me, I’m not jealous. Now tell me what happened.”

“It wasn’t much. We went to dinner and then we walked around the Washington Monument.”

“Oh, please,” Ben said, throwing his hands in the air. “This guy played you like a fiddle. He buys you dinner and then takes you to walk around a giant erection? What kind of message does that send?”

“I paid for dinner, stud-boy. And it was my idea to go to the Monument.”

“Now that’s a date,” Ben said, nodding his head. “I’m impressed.” He crossed his arms and said, “Go on.”

“And then I dropped him off.”

“That’s it?” Ben asked suspiciously. “You took him out and dropped him off?”

“I don’t know,” Lisa said, her eyes focused on her feet. “I think I scared him off. I might’ve been too aggressive.”

“You? Aggressive?”

“No, I was definitely too aggressive,” Lisa said, suddenly serious. “I think he was really intimidated when I told him that I could teach him a thing or two in bed.”

“You said that?” Ben blurted.

“See, I knew I was too aggressive.”

“Lisa, don’t beat yourself up. You were just being yourself. You can’t be faulted for that. You’re an aggressive woman, and most men are intimidated by aggressive women. You’ve seen the talk shows-the average guy in America wants a complacent, weaker woman, simply because they’ve been taught to feel threatened by strong women.”

“Okay, Freud. Now where does that leave me?”

“You’re left with much less to choose from, but the quality of those men is three hundred percent better than the average loser. The gene pool you’re fishing from is more confident, more sophisticated, more intelligent…”

“They’re men like yourself,” Lisa said sarcastically.

“Exactly. We’re a new breed of men. We’re not afraid to let our feelings show. We like strong women. Sexually, we enjoy being dominated.”

“You’re not afraid to cry at the end of the Rocky movies,” Lisa added.

“Correct. And we like the smell of potpourri.”