I've been dumped. Hard. I'm new to being alone, and new to the bustling, bar-lined streets of downtown Nashville. Armed with only my signature drink (a vodka soda, please) and a sense of humor, I decide to lean in to my downward spiral. I decide to drink. I decide to...date. Seems Southerners can smell the desperation in my break-up boozing, though. Immediately, I'm swarmed by a motley crew of suitors so grotesque, even Flannery O'Connor would blush. Toss in some deviant gal pals, a Southern gentleman or two and Rebound becomes a vibrant break-up letter that asks why so many of us girls are taking our lemons and turning them into Lemon Drop martinis.