Author's point of view

Meanwhile, an hour ago,

Shea leaned against the bar counter, waiting for the bartender to hand her the two glasses she had ordered. Something light for Zerina, something a little stronger for her. Her fingers tapped against the polished wood. She hates waiting.

Her eyes kept flicking over her shoulder, making sure she still had a clear line of sight to where Zerina was sitting. Her best friend looked small, folded into the leather couch like she was trying to ...