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“Audrey and Willa were there.”

“Oh.” I feel sick to my stomach with longing at the mere sound of her name. I am so pathetic.

I toss both pillows against the headboard and Max throws the down duvet over the top of the bed.

“How did she look?” I say. “Audrey.”

Max puts her hands on her hips and cocks one out to the side, her signature stance, and blows her heavy bangs out of her eyes. She needs a trim.

“Come on,” I say.

She knows what I’m talking about without asking and follows me into the bathroom. She sits on the side of the tub while I get everything ready: a towel on her lap, a bath mat below her feet, a spray bottle, two pairs of scissors, and a comb.

I spray her bangs with water, comb them down, then start to trim. I’ve been cutting Max’s bangs for as long as we can remember. The first time they were a little crooked, but not by much. It took her parents a week to realize her bangs had been cut, and not by Max’s mom. I’d watched Linda do it enough that I figured how hard could it be. Turns out, it wasn’t that hard, and I’ve been doing it ever since. We were five.

“Well?” I say, concentrating on getting a straight line.

“No way I’m talking about her when you have a sharp object in your hand.”

“I’m fine,” I say. I comb her bangs, pull them through my fingers, and snip off the ends. “Besides, you would look totally badass in an eyepatch. Your business would go through the roof. Butch Bartender’s New Eyepatch Brings All the Babes to the Bar. News at Six.”

“Excuse me, I’m not butch, I’m soft butch, and I would totally rock an eyepatch. But I’ve recently been told I have eyes that will haunt women’s souls so I’d kinda like to keep them.”

I chuckle. “That’s pretty over the top.”

“It’s borderline cheesy but who the fuck cares when it’s being delivered by a woman with that voice and that body and all the skills.”

I stop cutting. “Was this last night?” I ask.

“Until mid-morning, yes.”

“Christ on a cracker, Max. Why are you here helping me make my bed on your day off?”

“Because I said I’d be here.” Her expression softens. “I want to be here.”

I smile. “You don’t have to babysit me. I’m not going to do anything drastic.”

Max’s head jerks back. “Swear to God, that thought never crossed my mind.”

“Good. We’re done.” I put up the scissors while Max tries to clean up the hair without getting it all over the floor. “Don’t worry. I got a hand-held vacuum.”

“Oh, OK.” Max flicks the towel and little bits of black hair float down to the floor like the saddest confetti party you’ve ever seen.

“Well, I didn’t mean to do that.”

“Payback for getting laid in my bed.”

“I washed the sheets,” I say. I click off the bathroom light and we amble into the living room. Max plops down on my couch, which is exactly like her couch. I go into the kitchen to get us a drink. “Come on. How was Audrey?”

“I didn’t talk to her, but she looked good. Maybe a little pale.” I hand Max a beer. She takes a drink. “But that’s probably because I gave her the best friend death stare.”

“Max.”

“I’ll give her credit, she never moved. Just sat right there in my line of sight and took it.”

“Took it as in she was uncomfortable and thought she deserved it? Or took it as in you’re not going to beat me, bitch, bring it on?”

Max’s beer stops right before it gets to her lips. She drops it down and rests it on her thigh. “I have no idea which answer you want.”