“ Look, babe, I know you’re getting over this breakup with what’s-his-face by spending some time with your inner sorority girl, and it’s cute, really. I was wearing those last night.” Flynn lifted up on one elbow and scanned her bedroom floor. “ Glittery silver sandal with a wedge heel?” I figured it was the kind of thing you would have noticed if you’d left your apartment today.” I almost left, but there’s a shoe on your welcome mat. I’ve been standing out here knocking for five minutes. “ Open the door?” Flynn dreaded the answer she’d get to her next question. “A long night of chocolate martinis will do that to you.
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crackly?” Flynn lifted one arm it felt like a big sack full of dry sand. “ Hey, babe, if the phrase ‘chocolate martini’ wasn’t enough to tip you off, you got what you deserve.” And they don’t get better after the fourth one. “Hey, did you know about chocolate martinis? They sound all interesting and exotic, but really, they’re just strange. “I’m fine,” she said, although, truth be told, she’d left “fine” at the second of the six martini bars she’d visited last night. As it was, the blinking twelve o’clock seemed to mock her. If she had bothered to set it after the last power outage, this might have done her some good. “ Afternoon? What time is it?” Flynn squinted against the sunlight, trying to focus on her clock. “Or, if you want to get technical about it, afternoon.”
Flynn waited for her sister to finish dragging on her cigarette and deliver the rest of the greeting. “ Good morning.” Freya’s voice, prematurely leathered from smoking, scratched its way through the line. It was too early for that level of coordination. “ Yeah?” she croaked, not bothering to check the caller ID. She tossed herself over onto her back and shoved one hand into the front pocket of her jeans while using the other to shield her eyes from the sun, which was slicing its way through her blinds like a freakin’ Viking invader. She gave up, closed her eye, and cursed her hangover. Didn’t matter, because all she could see through the caramel-colored haze created by her hair was her white bedroom wall, which wasn’t much to look at anyway. Flynn Daly ’s left eye fought her, but she got it open.
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