“I’d rather have a Mark or a Marcus,” Gianna complained. “Take off some of your rings.”
“You can’t do that; it wouldn’t count.” Dropping her hands, she started walking toward the end of the row that they were standing on.
“Wait!” Penni called after her. “We didn’t do yours.”
“I counted them. There aren’t twenty-nine letters in the alphabet.”
The women all went to different doors; Ginny took the first at the back, waiting for Penni to press the unlock button.
“What happens when that happens?” Zoey asked. “Do you just start counting over with the remaining numbers?”
“No, it means you’ll be an old maid.”
Penni pressed her finger on her key fob. “That’s harsh.”
“Most deeply rooted superstitions are. Back when they originated, life was much harder. It provided a way to display humor or to explain why bad things were happening.” The older Ginny got the less credence she gave to the old superstitions that Freddy had teasingly taught her and Leah. “Truthfully”—Ginny slid into the back seat with Zoey sliding in behind her, as Gianna got in from the other side and Penni and Grace sat in the front—“I don’t think they considered women wearing so many rings. Many didn’t have the money for them.”
“It doesn’t matter, anyway.” Zoey patted her thigh. “Superstitions aren’t real.”
Buckling her seatbelt, Gianna made a wry face at Zoey. “That’s easy for a woman who’s going to marry a Mark to say.”
Zoey buckled her own seatbelt before reaching into her pocket to give Gianna an engraved business card. “Call me.”
Chapter Thirty-Nine
“Are you sure your husbands are okay with you being out with me tonight?”
Ginny hid a smile at the determined efforts of the group of friends plainly ignoring Zoey’s question. The busy nightclub in Queen City was packed, and only Penni would be able to find a table to fit the large group. Ginny thought it ironic. If she had planned the outing, they would have been standing outside in the long line of people who were still trying to get in.
“What can I get you ladies to drink?”
“I’ll take a lime daiquiri,” Grace spoke up first.
“A strawberry margarita for me,” Casey ordered next.
“Cranberry juice,” Zoey ordered when the waitress looked at her.
Ginny patiently waited her turn. The women sitting at the table were attracting most of the male attention in the room. Ginny almost felt sorry for them, knowing that none of the men stood a chance of scoring with any of them. Grace was married to the president of the Predators, Casey was married to Max, a soldier of the club, and Penni was married to Jackal, the enforcer. Two other women sitting with them were Sawyer, Kaden’s wife, and Vida, her married friend. The only three at the table who were single were Zoey, Gianna, and her. Gianna was waiting for her college boyfriend to propose, Zoey was a life coach and would more than likely talk them into introducing themselves to another woman, and with her, they would plain strike out.
“Vida and I will both have amaretto sours,” Sawyer ordered for her and her best friend.
“How about you, Ginny?” Penni prompted.
“I’ll take a diet soda,” she ordered before looking at Penni’s disappointed expression. “The only reason I’m here and not in bed is because you said I needed to be the designated driver,” she reminded her. The past three weeks, since their last outing together, hadn’t found her any closer to finding a job, and she didn’t want to waste any money.
“I told you that to get you out. Girl, that’s what Lyft is for,” Gianna told her, then ordered, “I’ll take a rum and coke, and bring my girl one too.”
Ginny started to cancel her roommate’s order for her. Rum was her least favorite alcoholic drink. “I’m not drinking, Ginny. If you want it, go ahead,” Zoey offered, bopping her head to the music.
“Exactly how do you think you can give us rides home on that skateboard?” Penni joked, slapping her hand on the table and drawing the eyes of the customers at nearby tables. “Don’t worry about rides home. I’ve got it covered.”
She would stick to her Diet Coke. Ginny had no intention of finding herself on the back of a Predator’s motorcycle.
“I’m with you with the rum, Gianna, except I’ll take mine in a mojito.” Penni gave her order to the waitress who was impatiently waiting. “And bring us a platter of the nachos. I’m starving.”
“We ate before we came here,” Zoey reminded her. “And should you be drinking with your heart condition?”
Penni shrugged. “The burger and fries didn’t fill me up, and if one drink will kill me, I don’t want to live,” she joked. “Besides, the damage to my heart was only short-term. I’ve had annual checkups since I had Wylie. I was lucky. Not only did I survive an amniotic fluid embolism when almost seventy percent of women don’t, but I don’t have any damage, other than memory loss, and Jackal swears I had that problem before.”