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Out of the corner of my eye I see everyone in the entourage lean forward expectantly, including Brent and Cheryl. But Kara only indicates four. Dax and Kara stand and we clink glasses, draining them without hesitation.
The liquor hits my stomach pleasantly. I’m about to hand the glass back to the attendant when Kara gestures for him to pour one more.
I glance at Evie. She’s smiling, by all measures excited. But I already know her well enough to see a slight flicker of nerves behind the front. The shots are big, easily close to two normal-sized ones. Two would be plenty for me, and I’m far from a lightweight. I also outweigh Evie by a hundred pounds.
The attendant holds out the tray for us and I grab both of ours before Evie can. Then, smoothly, I turn as if checking out the view. Kara and Dax are too busy laughing about something to notice as I pour Evie’s shot into my own before passing her the empty glass. We cheers again and down our drinks.
This time the hit is a little less pleasant but I’m glad I can take the bullet for Evie. Besides, as a steady buzz hits me, I realize that maybe my dislike of clubs comes from not getting shit-faced enough.
Kara sends the attendant away and gestures to a couple in the entourage to move to make room for the two of us on the couch next to her and Dax.
“First time in Paris?” I ask Kara.
She nods. “I went to the motherfucking catacombs today,” she says. “It was dope.” She jerks her head at Dax. “He was too freaked out.”
“Man, I just don’t want to waste time seeing a bunch of old skulls,” he says defensively.
“He was scared,” she says again. Her smile is teasing but Dax doesn’t seem to like the joke. He mutters something under his breath.
“Huh?” Kara asks. It’s a dare for him to say it louder. Wisely, he doesn’t.
Jesus.
“So you two, huh?” Kara asks, turning back to us. We’re no longer holding hands, but my arm is around Evie, her little body pressed down the length of me like she belongs there.
“All those long work hours,” Evie jokes. She sounds a little tipsy.
“Get it, girl,” Kara says, nodding approvingly. “I could tell, ya know. Right when the two of you walked into Bogart’s back in New York.” She turns to a girl on a nearby couch, and I recognize her as the girl with the rose tattoos whom we’d met briefly on the plane. “Right, Tori? Didn’t I say those two were fucking?”
Tori nods. “Like the minute they left the room.”
Evie shifts, a little uncomfortable. I own it though. “We weren’t at that point,” I say, “but you must be a prophet, because it wasn’t long afterward.”
Up until now Brent and Cheryl have stayed on the sidelines but they must sense we’re working into Kara’s good graces. As expected, when they butt in, it’s with something snide to say.
“Personally I could never fuck my boss,” Cheryl says. “But I guess some women can…”
Evie doesn’t miss a beat. “Personally I could never fuck my best friend’s fiancé,” she says in the exact same tone. “But I guess some women can…”
Cheryl’s mouth gapes like a fish, working up a retort. It doesn’t materialize. Kara’s eyes dart between the two women. Dax looks uncomfortable. But Evie handles the situation perfectly: she pivots.
“Besides,” she says, “Nick isn’t really my boss. He’s a client. My real boss is named Dan. He lives in Boston and has all the sex appeal of a piece of fruit so I’m safe on that front. But that’s boring.” She gestures at Kara, who’s wearing some kind of gold, stringy get-up that clashes stylishly with her trademark rainbow hair. “Look at you. What a venue! We were not expecting the red carpet, all the paparazzi. You’re killing it.”
Kara shrugs. “Part of the fun,” she says. “Just trying to enjoy it while it lasts.”
“Well if what people have to say is true, you’re going to last quite a while,” Evie says.
“Do you listen to my music?” Kara asks, sidestepping the flattery.
Evie hesitates and wisely chooses the truth. “I’m really more of a country girl,” she admits.
“And I only listen to instrumental rock music,” I say when Kara’s gaze trains on me.
Kara doesn’t look surprised or offended. “Yeah, that checks out,” she says. “Why me then?”
“For the cruise?” I ask.
She nods.
