Bea takes a sip of whiskey and lets out a shaky breath. She was so distraught when she first arrived that I couldn't follow what she was saying. Judging by her smudged eyeliner and disheveled curls, she hasn't slept since our failed ritual.
I swivel a little on my barstool. I'm too anxious to stay completely still. I give her time for a few more steadying breaths before I speak. "So, what was so important you had to rush over?"
“I'm sorry," she says into her cup. “I was going to wait until morning, but when you texted I just couldn't put it off."
“It's okay, I'm just a little freaked out. I've never seen you like this." Bea is an immaculately well put together woman. Seeing her looking so haggard is unsettling.
“I f*cked up," she says. “You remember that I told you I outsourced the
