"Canada?" Wendell asked.
"South America or Europe," Patrick said.
"I'd never go," Wendell said. "I wouldn't do their dirty work, the assholes."
"They don't want old men, anyway," Joe said.
"I may be old," Wendell said, "but I can put you on your ass, Joe
Burke."
"So could Willow," Joe said, grinning.
"It's a female thing," Willow said to Wendell who might or might not be accepting this.
"Female thing," he said looking at her breasts. This was comfortable territory. "Ha, ha. There's male things, and there's female things."
Joe held up his glass. "Right on, Wendell."
Willow finished her beer and left. They were a pretty decent bunch, she thought as she pedaled home. They treated her like one of the guys, almost. She was getting used to conversations full of fuck this and fuck that. It was a relief after the cautious academic world of her parents. When she arrived home, she was flushed from the ride. Amber was still out. She made a sandwich and went to bed with Henry Miller who was dependably self-involved, hip, sexy, and good humored.