“I think it is,” I said with a shudder. At a house party sophomore year, Kat and I had gotten bored and decided to try all the different liquors in the liquor cabinet, so we’d know what they all tasted like. Needless to say, this didn’t last particularly long, was a terrible idea, and was also the reason that Kat couldn’t go near peach schnapps and even the smell of brandy made me gag. But one sip of the scotch had been enough to let me know I had no interest in having more. “Why would they bring that to you?”

“It’s probably a mistake,” Beckett said, pushing it away.

“Wait,” I said, suddenly remembering why Beckett was even in the city. “How was the play? How are previews going?”

“Well,” Beckett said, taking a breath. “There’s this one part in the first act that’s a little—” He stopped and I noticed that we were being descended upon. A woman in a collared shirt and blazer was approaching. “Hi?” Beckett asked.

“Hello,” the woman said in a soft voice, bending down so that she was more at our level. “I’m the manager here at Josephine’s.”

“Hi,” I said, looking from her to Beckett, who seemed as confused as I was. Maybe there was a problem with my dad’s card or something?

“May I ask how old you both are?” she asked, looking from me to Beckett.

Suddenly, I got nervous that I wasn’t supposed to be there—that we were about to be kicked out. That we were clearly suburban teenagers, and everyone could tell, and we weren’t welcome there.

But a second later, I remembered I was eighteen now (in my defense, I’d only been eighteen for a week) and had just as much right to be here as anyone. “I’m eighteen,” I said, making myself sit up straighter, starting to channel whoever I’d been when I’d been lying to the Raptor about needing an emotional support animal. She wouldn’t have taken any guff. “Why?”

“And you?” she asked, turning to Beckett, a note of desperation in her voice, though she was still speaking quietly.

“Seventeen,” Beckett said, frowning. “Why?”

“And neither of you are members of the press? Or law enforcement?”

“No,” we both said together, exchanging a look. What was happening here?

“Just a moment,” she said, and hustled away.

“This is getting weird,” Beckett said. He took another sip of his drink, then coughed again. “Well, that didn’t get any better. But on the bright side, I think I’m drunk now.”

“So wait,” I said, trying to focus. “What were you saying about the play?”

Beckett started to answer, just as the manager came back again, now flanked by two other servers. Bringing up the rear, and looking mortified, was Todd.