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herself, Daisy smacked Jason with her clutch.
    Tina lunged for Daisy. “Leave him alone!”
    “And by the way, I sold your TV for $200!”
    “You mis’r’ble little b—”
    A wave of beer drowned his last word as Daisy used Max’s remaining beer to aid her escape. Alaskan Amber splashed off Jason’s face and splattered the tile.
    Within seconds, the four of them were tangled like last season’s Christmas tree lights.
    A sudden, searing pain shot through Max’s knee. Then the lights went out for Max Kendall.

Chapter Five
    “D aisy!” Charity Wagstaff rushed to her disheveled friend among the battered and bloodied Saturday night casualties in the emergency room. “Are you all right?”
    “Thanks for coming.”
    “Of course I’d come.” She sized up the two uniformed cops she had passed on the way in, recognizing one. “I called Bob. He’ll be here soon.”
    Daisy tensed at the mention of Charity’s husband. “Do I really need an attorney?” One green eye, heavy with exhaustion, looked at Charity. Daisy held an ice pack over the other.
    “It never hurts to have the district attorney in your corner.”
    “I guess he was pretty pissed about missing the game.”
    “They’re playing again tomorrow. Let’s see the boo-boo.”
    Daisy lifted the pack.
    Charity gasped. “Did Max do that?”
    “Oh God, no!” Daisy returned the ice to the swollen, purple mess. “At least I don’t think so.”
    “You don’t think so?”
    She groaned. “Everything happened at once. It could’ve been Max. It could’ve been Jason. But it was probably Tina—”
    “Jason and Tina? But on the phone you said that you and Max had gotten into a fight.”
    “We did. With Jason and Tina. It’s a long story.”
    “In a nutshell.”
    “We were at Mama Mia’s. And I saw Jason. Then everything kind of snowballed.”
    “A larger nutshell.”
    She recounted the evening’s events without interruption until—
    “Did I hear you right? Max knows Tina ?”
    “In the biblical sense. They had a thing a year ago.”
    “What are the odds?”
    “Apparently very good.” Daisy moaned. “Hearing that was like lighting the fuse. It seems all men prefer Tina. I just lost it. And, by the way, I told you so.”
    A sympathetic murmur.
    “I threw a beer in Jason’s face.”
    “Good for you.”
    “Not good. It was like some demonic force had control of my hand.”
    “Hell hath no fury . . .”
    Daisy lowered the ice pack, giving her arm a rest.
    Charity reached for Daisy’s free hand to offer a supportive squeeze.
    “Ow-ow-ow,” she squawked. “My wrist. I think it’s sprained.”
    Gently pulling back the cashmere, Charity asked about the brown smudges along the sleeve. “Is that blood?”
    Daisy looked at the cashmere. “Huh. I didn’t even notice.”
    “Is it yours?”
    “I don’t think so.”
    Charity didn’t dare ask whose it might be and instead focused on Daisy’s swollen wrist, looking out of place against her slender, artistic hand. “Can you move your fingers?”
    A slow wiggle later, Charity said, “Well, at least it’s your left hand and it’s not broken. Put the ice pack on it.” She looked around the large room. “Where’s the rest of the party? Don’t tell me you’re the only one who got clobbered.”
    “I think Tina broke a nail. She was holding up a finger and bitching. Or maybe that finger was aimed at me.” She paused, trying to remember, then let it go. “Jason might have a couple of cracked ribs—that’s what I heard the nurse say. Tina’s with him in one of the exam rooms.”
    “And Max?”
    Daisy groaned yet again and smothered her face in the ice pack.
    “Sweetie, I can’t understand you. What happened to Max?”
    She lifted her face from the ice, looking both remorseful and mortified. “He tore the meniscus in his knee and he might have a concussion. That’s what the paramedics said.”
    “A torn meniscus and a concussion? How in the world . . . ?”
    “No idea. The waiters