Brit took another round of drink orders, and then she made sure all her guests had a glass in hand. Outside, rain started a quick pit-a-pat on the metal roof and rapidly accelerated to bombardment.

My world stilled as the roar of water mimicked a revving car engine. Heart beating faster, for an instant I could feel my fingers gripping a steering wheel as my foot pressed the accelerator. The car was moving fast, and controlling it was difficult. A sharp right and then the utility pole.

Shattering glass rained over me as the impact rocketed blinding pain through my body and head. A jackhammer on steroids, it cracked bone and smashed brain matter. The lights flickered in my world, and then they went out. The terror and fear faded, leaving a warm blanket of nothingness enveloping me. As I drifted in the darkness, the pain lessened, and I knew Death had come for me again.

I’d nearly followed Death the last time. She was so tempting, sweet, and kind as she pulled me toward a current that swirled downward. (Not surprising my journey wasn’t upward or heavenly.)

A hand brushed the side of my face, and fingers pressed against my neck in search of a pulse. Was my heart beating?

“Marisa.”

The masculine voice was jagged with fear and did not belong to Death. I tried to grab hold, use the voice to climb out of the maelstrom. Despite Death’s promise of serenity, it wasn’t my time.

“Why did you do it?” The man’s name danced out of reach, as an arm brushed across my chest. I sensed someone pawing, groping for something. And then: “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

I’d had this “memory” before, but I still wasn’t sure whether it was an actual recollection or one planted by the police’s retelling of the facts. Memories are dangerous, I’d been told. They aren’t permanent and can be influenced by new circumstances and incoming facts.

“Where did you go?” Jo-Jo asked.

I blinked. “Nowhere. Listening to the rain. It’s really coming down out there.”

Jo-Jo rolled her eyes. “And to think I blow-dried my hair tonight. I wanted to look fabulous for you, but it’ll be ruined by the time I get home. Hoping Jack could see it. Shame to waste the effort.”

“I’m sorry I won’t see him in the Lion’s hat. That’s an Instagram moment.”

“Can you imagine Jack in that?” She sipped her wine spritzer. “He’s changed a lot since high school. No longer the life of the party but a hardworking stiff. Plans to own a real estate empire one day.”