“You were playing poker?” she said. Ezra had a plummeting sensation that this was all about to go very wrong for him.

“Oh!” Gregory said, inexplicably backstage now too. Why was everyone back here and not out front enjoying the party, enjoying the mini quiches, the DJ, who was now playing “Livin’ on a Prayer,” Bon Jovi’s best anthem, in his opinion. Gregory wedged himself into their circle, then threw both hands over his mouth, his eyes wide and wild. “Oh, oh shit.”

“What?” Ezra said. “What,” he said again, this time not a question but a demand.

“Shit,” Gregory replied. “That may have been my fault?”

Frankie made little circles in the air with her hand above her head as if to say: See I told you and also obviously, which Ezra thought was pretty rich because, lady, it takes two to tussle.

“Confess,” Ezra said to Gregory.

Then Mimi said, higher pitched and louder, “You confess, Ezra!”

He held her gaze and pleaded: “Please, Mimi. Not now.” So Mimi scowled and tapped her high-heeled foot but did thankfully quiet.

“I had forgotten until just now,” Gregory said. “Someone had told me about the deal-in at Waverly’s. And man, you were just so . . . so . . .” He looked around as if someone could help him, but no one had any idea what adjective he was going to use, so he sighed and took a long sip of whatever it was he was drinking and continued. “Before we went out. Ezra, I mean, it’s like you were a vampire, and everyone had sucked the life from you.”

“No,” Frankie interjected. “That’s not right. The vampire is the one who sucks things from other people.”

Gregory looked confused then said, “Right, sorry, I’m drunk again. Anyway, I just wanted you to do something fun, to enjoy yourself, you know . . . like you used to. Everything about you now is about—” Gregory stopped himself. But the implication was there, and Ezra did not like it very much. Did not like it at all. Like you used to before Mimi. Everything about you now is about Mimi. “I totally forgot, and shit, I stayed at Lemonhead, and you guys moved on.” He seemed genuinely contrite. “I didn’t realize it was an issue. I mean, I knew, I guess. And I still told you.”

Ezra wanted to scream. He wasn’t overcome with his usual nerves or a fevered pulse or a heart that was going to beat out of his chest. He was furious. He was so fucking furious. At Frankie. At Mimi. At Gregory and his 1000-proof booze. At himself. At the ridiculous confluence of events that had led to right now. How did he arrive back at Middleton so full of optimism and, just twenty-four hours later, have everything unravel into a mess that he couldn’t even imagine he could mend?

“I’m going back to the hotel,” Mimi said.

“Mimi, please, don’t,” Ezra begged. “Or, I mean, I’ll come with you.”