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just gave her a blank look. “You do?”
    “Yep. We’re starting early.”
    And hallelujah.
    Anything to get Anne out of this god-awful situation with some of her pride intact sounded good to me. I ignored any inner conflict. Yes, the thought of giving up my chance with Ben hurt. I’m pretty sure my heart and vagina would never forgive me. But Anne looked devastated, her hands trembling. I grabbed her arm and towed her toward the door. A muscle-bound dude done out in all black, who just had to be security, met us beside a shiny new Escalade. We all bundled in with minimal small talk. Everything inside was leather. Seriously, the car was one sweet ride. Not sweet enough to get the sour out of my mouth over Mal’s defection, however.
    “I don’t understand.” I turned to face Anne, sitting so eerily still in the backseat. Every inch of her was wound tight and inward, her shoulders rounded and hands clasped in her lap. It was like she was just waiting for another attack, for more hurt. I hated that. If Mal Ericson had kicked a puppy I couldn’t be more pissed.
    “This,” I said, waving a hand at her. “He makes you happier than I’ve ever seen. It’s like you’re a different person. He looks at you like you invented whipped cream. Now this. I don’t understand.”
    She shrugged. “Whirlwind romance. Easy come, easy go.”
    My mouth opened to call bullshit, but I couldn’t. I knew Anne too well. We stared at each other for a long moment until the luxury car started rolling forward. The past seven years had bound us tightly together. Tighter than either of us might have liked, truth be told. Love and hope equaled pain. They fucked you over and left you high and dry.
    Stupid to believe otherwise. Those were our home truths and we’d learned them the hard way when Dad up and left. Love sucked, and men … well, it seemed they were as dependable as they’d ever been.
    Still, I couldn’t get the memory of Ben out of my head. The way his dark brown eyes had fixed on mine and never wavered. In all honesty, it could have meant anything.
    Nothing, or everything, or something in between.
    I just didn’t know.
    *   *   *
    “I do not need him,” Anne announced from atop the coffee table, her chocolate martini held high in the air.
    A round of applause from Lauren.
    “I really don’t!”
    “Right on, sister. Amen.”
    “In fact, I don’t need any man! I’m a … I’m a…” She clicked her fingers impatiently, face deep in thought. “What’s the word I’m looking for?”
    “You’re a modern woman.”
    “Yes-s-s,” my sister hissed. “Thank you. I’m a modern woman. And penises are just weird anyway. I mean seriously, who the fuck even thought that shit up?”
    On the floor, Lauren started laughing so hard she had to clutch at her belly. Me, not so much. Why Anne couldn’t give her speeches with her feet safely on the floor was beyond me.
    “No, really. Think about it. They’re fine when they’re hard, but when they’re soft…” With a faint frown, my sister crooked her pinkie finger and then wiggled it. “So wrinkly and weird looking. Vaginas make much more sense.”
    “Oh god.” I squeezed my eyes shut for a moment.
    We’d finally arrived at my sister’s apartment late afternoon, due to Ev needing to make a couple of stops. First there was a liquor store. Next, Voodoo Doughnuts. And last but not least, a pizza shop in the Pearl. The big burly security guy driving us had taken it all in his stride. He’d lugged the myriad bags, boxes, and bottles required up the stairs into Anne’s small two bedroom apartment. When it came to throwing an impromptu man-hate party, Evelyn Ferris clearly had all bases covered.
    My rage toward the drummer in question, Malcolm Ericson, had dropped from boiling to a simmer. The precarious way Anne was swaying atop her high perch worried me more. “Please don’t fall off the coffee table and break something.”
    “Ohmyfuckinggod.” Dark liquid sloshed