I felt a rush of guilt strong enough to knock the worry out of my head. Before anything else, Lou had always been there for me. “Of course not.” I reached a hand forward, hovered it over her own. Lou didn’t move, and I pulled it back. “I’ve been distracted. By Klein, Ellen.” I held up a hand as Lou started to say something, but I shook my head. If I closed my eyes, I could see Ellen’s teary face, pink feathers clinging to her goopy lip gloss, peering over her shoulder at me for one last affirmation I wouldn’t give before trudging up the stairs of her apartment. I sipped on my melting margarita. I was sure as hell not ready to talk about her yet. “Trust me. She’s fine. She’ll be fine. Thursday will be golden. She could win a goddamn Oscar for what she’ll do.”

“Okay,” Lou said, a small smile breaking through the thundercloud of her face. “I can’t wait to see those pictures. Tell Jackal to turn the video over.” She took a deep breath, pushed her bourbon away. “And then we can celebrate. With a real drink.”

“Let me buy you a drink now,” I said. “To make up for being so late.”

Lou shook her head, biting her lip. There was a glow in her eyes now. “I’m done paying for drinks.” She rolled her shoulders and took a languid look around the bar. She spotted them, the same couple I’d noticed earlier and flicked her eyes at me. A challenge. A game we’d played before.

“Batter up,” she said, and leaned forward and tapped my arm. Tag, you’re it. The spot burned through my sleeve. I had to keep myself from rubbing it.

Lou told me she didn’t keep score, but that was bullshit. I was currently up three drinks on her, but it had taken the nearly three years I’d known her to get there.

He was still talking to the woman, but his eyes found me, gave me an appreciative once-over—if I were a kinder woman, I’d tap his date on the shoulder and tell her to keep moving, her first instincts had been right. Instead, I smiled. Looked away, looked back. Smiled again.

But Lou was faster. She was out of her chair and bumping him from behind before I’d moved. This time, she wasn’t letting me win.

“Oh, I’m so sorry,” she said, all big eyes and innocence. She hadn’t even given me thirty seconds to make a move. Her fingers lingered on his sleeve and she flashed his date a sympathetic smile. “Did I spill your drink?”