"We got two Nicks and I know there's an Ellis running around." Venus gestures to the bartender and flashes her prettiest, sparkliest grin. Now that her traitor brand has been removed, she's again a beloved celebrity, and if she wants free drinks she needn't even use words to ask for them. And if they don't come free, there's that kill-money she bragged about.

"Savannah, you say? No way. I grew up in Savannah." A drink for each of the girls comes, and Venus slides the margarita over to Rochelle with practiced grace. Like anything Venus orders, her own is more sugar than alcohol, made up of something fruity enough to match the little paper umbrella sticking out of it. Venus takes the umbrella and tucks it behind her ear.