Niki laughs. “Please. I’d rather have options than a track record.”
Watson gives a soft woof, letting us know we’re annoying him, then returns to the serious business of positioning himself for optimal treat acquisition.
“You know what your problem is?” Niki continues, apparently unaware that she’s poking a bear dressed as a leopard. “You’re thinking like it’s 1955. Modern dating requires modern solutions.” She pulls out her phone and wags it our way. “This is where all the good men are hiding these days.”
Loretta recoils like Niki just offered her a live snake. “I don’t need the internet to find men! That’s for desperate women who can’t get dates the traditional way.”
“You mean by ambushing them at restaurants and starting catfights with senior citizens?” I ask.
“That was a strategic territorial dispute,” Loretta huffs. “And I won.”
“You got escorted out by management,” Cooper reminds her.
“Details,” Loretta waves dismissively.
Niki scrolls through her phone, ignoring Loretta’s digital dating horror. “Look what I just found. Sparks and Stripes Speed Dating at the lake pavilion on July Fourth. It’s perfect!”
I love how she goes from insulting the woman to becoming her wingman. That’s my sister.
She shows us the screen, which features an ad with holiday appropriate graphics and the tagline,Find Your Fireworks Match!
“Three minutes per man,” Niki says. “In, out, no wasted time. It’s like shopping, but with better lighting.”
Loretta narrows her eyes. “Three minutes is barely enough to order a drink.”
“It’s enough to check the watch, the shoes, and whether he says, ‘My ex was crazy,’” Niki shoots back.
“That’s fair,” Loretta admits, almost against her will.
Niki brightens, sensing momentum. “Ages thirty-five to fifty-five. Prime range.”
“Prime for who?” Loretta says, but she’s already leaning in to read.
“For you,” Niki says. “Financially stable, emotionally available, still has decent knees—this is your lane.”
Loretta scoffs. “Please. I don’t need a lane. I create traffic.”
“Sure,” Niki says. “But this way the traffic lines up for you.”
Loretta considers that. “Three minutes…” she murmurs. “That’s enough time to assess income, posture, and whether he lies about his height.”
“And if he opens with crypto,” Niki adds, “you walk.”
“Immediately,” Loretta agrees.
I blink between them. “Are you two getting along?”
“Don’t get used to it,” they say in unison.
Watson huffs like he’s disappointed this isn’t escalating into snacks.
“It’s like a romantic cattle call with fireworks,” Niki says, way too excited about this.
Loretta goes still. “Did you just compare my dating life to livestock?”
Watson gives a low whine, then immediately abandons the tension to track a passing plate of patriotic popcorn shrimp like it’s his true purpose. It sort of is.
“Only in a high-demand, premium-cut kind of way,” Niki says quickly. “Look, I could coach you. Prep you. Wardrobe, strategy?—”
