Jack smiled warmly at Lyla as they drifted toward the doorway where they watched the show in the living room.

A guy brushed past, on his way into the kitchen.

"What's going on?" Jack asked.

"Some spiritual lady." The guy rolled his eyes. "Claims she can communicate with the dead."

Lyla turned to Darcy. "What's up with the—"

Darcy shrugged. "She sells herself as a fortune-teller. I thought it would be fun. You know. Who am I gonna marry? Will I be rich? Stuff like that. Then, all of a sudden, she starts conversating with dead people. Not what I thought I was getting."

Lyla propped herself against the doorframe, Jack stood just behind her. She reveled in his scent as she leaned back against his solid chest.

"Oh, sorry." She made some space.

"It's okay," he replied.

She hoped that he couldn't feel her trembling.

Jack turned to Darcy. "Is Carissa here?"

She shook her head. "She wasn't invited. She wouldn't have come anyway, right?"

"Probably not."

Jack's eyes shifted to Lyla. His smile was contagious, she couldn't stop looking at his lips, those warm inviting lips.

"Richie!" Darcy shrieked with delight as he made his entrance. She threw her arms around him.

The last time someone was this happy to see me...," Richie quipped. "Well, maybe we shouldn't go there."

When Darcy released her grip, from beneath his topcoat, Richie produced a bottle of liquor.

"Ta-da!"

"Fireball!" Darcy's eyes went wide. "You scored!"

"Would I let you down, girl?" Richie winked. "Not on your birthday."

Darcy swept the red cups aside, in search of shot glasses.

"So, Darcy. About that shirt." Richie winced. "Did you steal that from a large four-year-old?" Richie always made Lyla laugh.

"You guys want a Fireball?" The birthday girl opened the bottle of liquor and lined up a few shot glasses.

"I'm in." Richie slipped his arms out of his coat.

"Maybe later," said Lyla.

"Come on. Have a shot with the birthday girl."

Jack checked his phone when it buzzed. Lyla could see a pic of Carissa on his phone. When he let the call go to voicemail she couldn't hide her smile.

Richie watched Darcy clumsily fill the shot glasses. "Here, let me do it."

"I got it." She overfilled the glasses.

Richie sighed dramatically.

In the living room, Lindsey sidled up to Clarisse's chair. "Can you... Can you contact my dad for me?"

Clarisse smiled warmly then placed her broad hand on Lindsey's.

Mumbled small talk buzzed through the room.

Clarisse leaned back in her chair. She took a deep breath and slowly exhaled. Lindsey shushed the partiers. Clarisse drifted into a trance when suddenly her brow furrowed, her eyelids fluttered. She breathed in short, clipped breaths.

Lindsey backed away from the chair.

With her eyes tightly shut Clarisse muttered, "There's... there's a disturbance... A strong disturbance here..."

The crowd went silent, all eyes on Clarisse.