The familiar (if loud) churn of the engine made it hard to talk, especially with the windows open (the air-conditioning didn’t work), but the day was warm and they blasted the music and sang along. Nessa loved singing at full volume. She couldn’t carry a tune, but with Bree it didn’t matter.

Well, most of us think the “Merchant of Venice” is a porno script. On a more personal note, I’ve decided on pizza for dinner.