“My mom and sister and I accidentally stumbled into a Griffin Gentry Sucks Support Group for women who have been wronged by him.” “Like, an actual support group?” Weber asked. “They had balloons and an easel sign and these,” Riley said, pulling the crumpled, sweat-soaked cocktail napkin out of the pocket of her tights. Grimacing at the napkin’s saturation level, Weber unfurled it.
