All were Fijis, all the same to her, all reminded her of her father.  The looked like mini-me CEOs, with their parted, combed hair, dockers, deck shoes, and polo shirts.  They all laughed in the same reserved manner, cocked their head slightly when greeting one another, drank too much, and stood about 5’10,” studying finance, accounting, or communications.  She wondered if David knew she’d been sleeping with her German professor.  Catherine figured David would have cared only if it interfered with his attention at parties, or became common knowledge amongst his Fiji brothers.  To save herself the trouble, really to save herself, Catherine always referred to her meetings as study sessions. 

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