Shelby chokes on her drink and I pat her back. Marcella narrows her eyes. “Should you be drinking?” she snaps, some of her shimmer wearing off. “Remember the last time you overindulged? Wasted your entire career.”

Shelby’s eyes flicker to the camera and back to her old friend. “It’s ginger ale.”

Marcella sniffs. “Looks like a gin and tonic to me.

“And it looks like you’re almost out,” Lyle interjects. “Another gin and tonic for the woman of the hour!” he shouts to a startled Beth. “And”—he turns to me, raising his brows—“what is that garbage you’re drinking, Riggs? Cheap beer? You’re not a frat boy anymore. He’ll take a whiskey neat. On me.”

I consider letting this play out. I could accept the drink, put on the show, and give Lyle what he wants. The cameras are rolling, and everything is, well, not congenial but civil enough, and I think that maybe, just maybe, this is salvageable.

But then I glance around the room and see that Marcella has Shelby cornered against the bar, and suddenly whatever she says makes all the blood rush out of Lorelai’s face and Maren hop off her stool. The group shifts and I see Shelby falter, reaching for the bar. Marcella cackles and in a raised voice says, “My God, Shelby, how drunk are you?!”

Beth shouts, “Hey!” but is roundly ignored. Lorelai, who has been drinking, steps between Shelby and Marcella and looks ready to strike, but Maren reaches for her two friends just in time. “I love this song. Let’s dance!”

Beth is quick and is already waddling over to the stereo system to crank it up as Maren is dragging Shelby and Lorelai to the middle of the floor. Her crowd of Michigan State fans are quick to clear the area, either out of courtesy or hoping to gain points.

Enough is enough.

The camera spins to capture Shelby dancing and I round on Marcella. “What did you say to her?”

Marcella rolls her eyes. “Nothing she didn’t already know. She’s just drunk, Cam. She’ll be fine in the morning.”

“Shelby doesn’t drink anymore,” I bite out through clenched teeth. “And she’s definitely not drinking tonight. So, what did you say?”

Lyle puts his hand on my chest. “Easy, Cam. Watch your temper when talking to my wife.”

I smack his hand away. “What are you two playing at here? Why did you come? Haven’t you fucked with us enough?”

“Oh, you’re admitting it’s ‘us’ now, are you? I’m not fucking with anyone, Cameron. But maybe you two need to grow up and be a little more responsible. I’m putting my neck on the line for you, and for what? Missed deadlines, a half-done project, an alcoholic costar, and you two sneaking off on my dime to hook up?”