The guys were acting like dogs, lusting after a piece of tail. Perfectly reasonable men whom she had known for years became incapacitated as soon as they got a whiff of Fischer and Macdonald—it was hilarious, the leering stupidity. At the same time, Desma noticed how the blond pair kept to themselves, stayed inside their truck, scrupulously avoiding others. Somebody told her they were college kids. Desma had never made it to college. She could have handled the material, but she had gotten pregnant with her first child at age sixteen. At the point when Fischer showed up at annual training, too good to associate with the likes of her, Desma had three children whom she was raising primarily on her own, and she was holding down three jobs. She had no time to better herself by going to college, and no interest in associating with people who had it easy and then decided they were better than she was. Desma dubbed the new girls the Kitty Cat Club. Soon half the unit was calling Fischer and Macdonald the Kitty Cats.
