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Tamera Watts tapped the almost-empty pack of Marlboros against her palm and shook loose a cigarette. She stuck it in her mouth with a shaky hand and lit the tip. It was a terrible habit she’d picked up almost twenty years ago. She’d found it was the only thing that calmed her nerves.

Tamera had been chain-smoking ever since she’d opened the door to find Presley Parrish standing on her porch. Pep. Goodness, she’d been hit with a wave of nostalgia at seeing her after all these years. She’d have been ecstatic if Presley hadn’t been bearing bad news. Nancy Baker was dead. First Margy, then Nancy. How was that possible?

Sometimes, it seemed like only yesterday when she, Margy, Nancy, Jessie, Charmaine, and Gwen had been best friends, hanging out and causing good trouble. They’d grown up together, from children to teenagers, through the good times and the bad. God, they’d had so much fun. Mostly, it felt as if it had happened to someone else.

Tamera glanced at the framed mirror on the wall and recoiled. Then she moved closer to stare in horror at the image reflected in the glass. Was that her face? She touched her cheek. Yep. Her. Good Lord, she’d aged significantly. She looked sixty instead of her late thirties. Wrinkled, sallow skin, thin, brittle hair, teeth stained brown with nicotine. No wonder Earl had left her. She was hideous.

Tamera sighed and sucked in another lungful of smoke. Presley had warned her to be careful. Did that mean she thought someone might come after her? Had the two women been murdered?

A loud peal rented the air, and she screamed, dropping her cigarette to the floor. She quickly stomped on it before it could light the cheap polyester rug on fire. She didn’t want to flambé herself like Margy and Nancy. Tamera winced at her callousness. They had been her friends once.

The noise sounded again, and she realized it was her cellphone. She fumbled for it on the desk and answered.

“Hello?”

“Tamera, it’s me.”

“Me, who— Jessie? Is that you?”

“Yes. Look, we need to talk.”

Tamera shook her head and realized Jessie couldn’t see the movement. “I-I can’t. I don’t have time. Sorry.”

“I’m in town now. Meet me at Davy’s on Canal Park Drive.”

“I said I can’t.”

“Tamera. Get here now.”

Jessie disconnected, and Tamera stared at her phone. Did she have the courage to see her old friend again after so many years? Once upon a time, they had been close, until their lives had been irrevocably altered. She had to admit she was considering it. It would be nice to have someone to talk to, especially one who had been through the trenches with her.

Tamera had been so jealous when she heard Jessie had married Sam King. At one time, Tamera had loved him. Then she’d heard stories of how he slept with anyone carrying two X chromosomes. Envy had morphed into pity.

What would Jessie think of Tamera now? She wasn’t the pretty cheerleader she’d once been. Would she make fun of her or laugh in her face? Only one way to find out.

Tamera grabbed her keys and headed to her car.

#

Jessie motioned to the bartender for a refill. It had been a risk to come here to see Tamera Watts. Frankly, she wasn’t sure Tamera would agree to meet—still wasn’t. She’d sounded wishy-washy on the phone. It might’ve been a wasted trip.

The bartender, a man with long red dreadlocks and a scraggly beard, grabbed her glass and made quick work of replenishing it. Jessie took a swig as soon as he placed it in front of her, savoring the burn down her throat.

A horn sounded in the distance, indicating a barge was moving through the Superior Entry Channel. Several of the tables inside the bar were occupied, and groups of people gathered around the pool tables and dart boards. The conversation was loud as people attempted to talk over the music being piped through speakers around the room. Jessie was numb to it all.

She was into her fifth drink when the door opened, and a woman entered. Jessie glanced at the bleached blonde and then away before her gaze snapped back. Holy hell, it was Tamera.

Tamera spotted her and headed over. Jessie grabbed her glass and slid off the stool, almost face-planting when her legs buckled. She motioned to a table, and Tamera followed.

“I didn’t think you’d come,” she said when Tamera slid into the booth across from her. The stench of smoke assailed her nose, eliciting a grimace.

“I almost didn’t. I have no idea why I’m here.”

Tamera studied her intently, and Jessie almost told her to take a picture since it would last longer, but she bit her tongue. That was childish. All she needed to do was run Tamera off before they could talk.

She turned the tables and stared at Tamera. Good God, the years hadn’t been good to her. She looked like an unoiled catcher’s mitt. “It’s good to see you.”

“Why am I here, Jessie?”

“How’s your husband?”

“How the hell should I know? We’re divorced.”

That made three for Tamera. Jessie had met none of them.

“I repeat, why am I here?”

“You’ve heard about Margy and Nancy?”

“Yes, Pep . . . I mean, Presley Parrish stopped by to visit.”

“I saw her too. She turned into a gorgeous woman.”

“She did,” Tamera agreed. “I wanted to hug her and not let go.”

“Me too,” Jessie murmured. She represented good times. Instead of dwelling in the past, she blurted out, “Someone talked.”

Tamera slammed against the back of the booth. “It wasn’t me.”

“Well, someone did. It must’ve been one of the others.”

“I’d rule out Charmaine,” Tamera informed her. “The church is her life. It’s like she ate a Bible and spits out the rhetoric. I don’t even know if she believes it.”

Jessie snorted. “She was always the hellraiser of the group.”

“You should see her now.”

A server appeared at their table. “What can I get you?”

“I’ll have a lemonade,” Tamera said.

Wimp. “Another vodka tonic.”

The woman left, and Jessie leaned forward. “Who do you think is doing this?”

Tamera reached into her purse and withdrew a package of cigarettes. She plucked one out and stuck it in her mouth before lighting the tip. “I’ve no idea.”

“Ma’am, it’s against the law to smoke in here,” the server said as she brought their drinks.

“Oh, sorry.”

Tamera tapped the tip against the table to put it out, and the server frowned at her. Tamera didn’t notice as she slid the used cigarette back into the pack. Then, she stuck a straw in her glass and took a drink. “Are you sure you didn’t tell your husband?”

Jessie narrowed her brows. “Sham hath no deal.”

“What?”

Jessie swallowed and concentrated on not slurring. Her words were precisely measured. “Sam doesn’t know.”

“We’re next. I know it.”

“Tamera, I hath . . .” She cleared her throat and took time to pronounce the words. “I have excellent security. Come stay with me.”

“I can’t do that,” Tamera insisted. “I didn’t marry money like you did, Jessie. My husbands were all deadbeats. If I don’t work, my bills don’t get paid. I’d lose my house and business.”

Jessie wanted to snap off another retort, but Tamera wasn’t wrong. Jessie had married into wealth. She would not apologize for it.

“Well, well, look who’s here,” Tamara murmured.

Jessie swung her head around and instantly regretted it when the room kept spinning. When did she jump on a tilt-a-whirl? When it finally stopped and she could focus, she saw her husband marching toward her. What the hell was he doing here?

“Time to go home, Jessie.”

Tamera scooted out of the booth and threw herself into Sam’s arms. “Sam King, you big hunk. Long time no see.”

Maybe Jessie ought to be jealous. Tamera was newly single, and Sam slept with anyone with boobs—and Tamera’s were too perky to be anything but surgically enhanced—but honestly, she couldn’t care less.

“Hey, Tamera,” Sam said. “How are you?”

“I’m good, sugar.”

“What’re you doin’ here?” she demanded of Sam.

“I’m here to take you home.”

“How’d ya know?”

“That you are here? One of my employees watched you slam back half a dozen drinks and called me. Damn it, Jessie, what you do reflects on me. I have a reputation to maintain.”

Jessie felt her cheeks burn with embarrassment. And anger. She opened her mouth, but Sam cut her off.

“Either you walk out of here like an adult, or I will make a scene and carry you out ass first.”

He would, too. She hated that Tamera was witnessing her downfall, and that sobered her up. Jessie had once been the leader of their group. She and Gwen. Every other girl in school wanted to be them. They had been royalty—literally. Gwen had been the homecoming queen for four years running and the prom queen their junior and senior years. Jessie had always been the first runner-up. Funny, but it was the same for Sam and Dominic. Dominic was the king alongside Gwen every year, and Sam had come in second like Jessie. She always assumed it meant they belonged together. How wrong she’d been.

“Fine.” She scooted out and focused on not stumbling when she stood.

Sam paid their bill, and they walked outside.

“Are you going to Margy’s funeral?” she asked Tamera.

Tamera paused and then shook her head. “I can’t go through that again.”

Jessie didn’t plan on attending either. Maybe that made her a bad person, but she was already going to hell. What was another sin in her life’s ledger?