“Yeah, back deck, okay?” Elvira asked, but didn’t wait for an answer. She started tugging me to the sliding-glass doors at the back of Ada’s picture-perfect suburban home while jerking her chin at her posse.

I had no choice but to go but I did manage to bug my eyes out at Martha as I went—my nonverbal invitation for her to get her ass up and follow.

I’d known Martha since we were in fifth grade. I moved out to Denver to be with Martha. Before marrying Damian, I lived with Martha. After leaving Damian, I again lived with Martha. Therefore, Martha read my nonverbal invitation and got her ass up.

“Ice,” I heard Elvira order.

Tracy nodded and peeled off as Elvira tugged me out the door.

She let my hand go and sashayed to the picture-perfect lawn furniture on the deck, and folded then shoved my slice of cake into her mouth all in one go (though, it was so small, this wasn’t hard). Then she dropped the plate to the table and plonked down her massive purse, which again clinked and clunked. I watched in unconcealed astonishment as she started unearthing the ingredients for cosmopolitans (including a stainless-steel cocktail shaker) from her purse as Martha, Gwen, Camille, and I rounded the table.

“Ohmigod, I’m so gonna kill Tracy for this. I didn’t like Ada even before that bitch hooked up with Vic. But this party is so bad, if ex-prisoners of war attended it, they’d reminisce nostalgically about the days shit was shoved up their fingernails,” Camille muttered.

“Have you seen Vic?” Gwen asked Camille and got a head shake to her question so she continued. “Shadow of his former self. He used to live and breathe Broncos, Nuggets, Rockies, and his vintage Chevy Chevelle. Now he’s wearing button-downs instead of Elway jerseys and driving a minivan and Ada hasn’t even popped that kid out yet.”

“Poor Vic,” Martha muttered.

“Poor Vic, my ass,” Elvira stated while pouring vodka into her shaker. “Needs to man up, take charge of his woman.” Her eyes sliced through Camille and Gwen and she proclaimed, “You bitches know what I’m sayin’.”

Both “bitches” nodded in a way I found interesting since they clearly did know what she was saying and I did not and wanted to know more. Before I could ask, I heard the sliding glass door open. I twisted to look as it closed and saw the gorgeous, glamorous Tracy carrying two big glasses filled with ice strutting out like she was on a catwalk and not on a picture-perfect back deck.

“Okay, just gotta say, I’m glad we’re out here because I wanna know what the frig is up with you,” I heard Martha say and I looked to her to see she was looking at me and, therefore, talking to me.

This was probably not good.