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was a verbalized expression of our differing opinion. And it wouldn’t be taken any further.
    She crossed her legs and raised her mug to her lips. “And swiftly moving off that topic, have you had any thoughts about his birthday?”
    “Nope. I am completely stumped. He has everything, and I wanted to do something amazing for him, he deserves it, especially for the big three, zero. Still unemployed and I’m feeling like shit because I’m living off my boyfriend. I can’t use his money to buy him a gift, what sort of idiot would do that?”
    “Bet you wished you saved up some of those tips now don’t ya,” she grinned like a cat that got the cream, and I couldn’t help but mirror at her attitude with an agreeing nod of my head and rolling of my eyes. Yes, she was damn right. I did wish that, it could have come in handy right about now.
    “Thirty…what would a man love for his thirtieth birthday?” I mused, mostly to myself while gazing into thin air.
    A gasp from across the table had drawn my attention back to the brunette. Her mouth agape, while mischief twinkled in her hazel eyes.
    That expression was a traditional ‘Brainwave Liv’ expression.
    Damn, we were in trouble.

Chapter Four
    October 31 st 2011.
    Twenty months before the accident…
    “I cannot believe you actually invited someone without passing it by me firs t. Liam’s going to have kittens.” The feisty brunette may have been donning a kinky Devil costume, damn; she could have been The Devil herself for all I cared. Either way, nothing was going to halt my scolding. Things had been going smoothly between Liam and me since his birthday several weeks ago, and if Liv’s infamous running off at the mouth was going to rock that boat, the large bowl that I was pouring potato chips into, would be flying across the room to meet the coffee and cream painted wall.
    “Oh, come on. She’s been living above you for a few months now and”––she jumped down from the chair , taking a step back to admire her draping web in the living room doorway––“you still haven’t spoken a word to each other. It’ll be fun.”
    I was just about to begin my sardonic probing into who it would be fun for exactly, when a shriek followed by a clattering of bags resonated from the hall. “Sis!”
    I turned to face the direction of the squealer, and was suddenly attacked by a broomstick and a mass of green hair. “Brittany,” I opened my arms to give my little sister a not so little hug. “I love the wig.”
    “Wig?” By the quizzical sound of her voice, something was about to tell me that this was yet another mishap for, Brittany Jenson. Both the world and the people in it were lucky that she strayed from beauty school. She pulled me away and held me at arm’s length, shaking her head. “This”––scornfully pointing to the masses, she continued–– “is supposed to be cosmic blue. That’s what the box said, I double checked. Does it look like cosmic-fucking-blue to you?”
    Liv propped her hand on my sister’s shoulder and offered a sympa thetic caress through her tears as we fell into loud fits of guffawing. I was sure that if her hand wasn’t braced on my sister’s shoulder, The Devil would have been rolling on the floor like a turtle trapped on its back. “It’ll fade soon enough, but at least it goes with the costume.” Liv always knew how to make someone see the upside to their downside, and by the grin on my baby sister’s face, she found comfort in the words of my best friend––the best friend who also suffered many a mishap in the hair and beauty department over the years.
    “Speaking of costumes,” Brittany turned her attention back to me. Blue irises, which were a darker hue than my own, combed over the length of my ivory satin and lace high neck blouse with filigree shoulders, and a pair of simple black pants. She eyed me warily. “What are you supposed to be, sis?”
    “Oh, haven’t you heard,” The Devil interjected,