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"Sure." I say. "What about you, Skye?"
"Sure. When in Rome, right?" She grins.
"Of course. So I will get two Club Z specials. Just so you know, they are $1,000 each."
Skye gasps, but I just shrug.
"Sounds fine."
The waitress hurries off and Skye looks at me with wide eyes. "$1,000 drinks, are you crazy?"
"It's the cost of doing business here," I say, shrugging. "Don't worry about it."
"You've already spent like $1,500."
"$2,500, two drinks plus the $500."
"Oh, yeah." She moans. "I'm not that good at math."
"It's a good thing you're not a math teacher then, isn't it?"
"Ha ha," she says, rolling her eyes. She leans back and looks around, then she gasps. "Oh my gosh, that's him."
"Who?" I say, my shoulders stiffening.
"Whittaker Matlock, of course." She nods toward the other side of the room. "He's there with two other guys that look like they might be athletes as well."
I stare in the direction she's nodding in and my eyes narrow. That is, indeed, Whittaker Matlock, but I don't recognize the two men that he's with.
I look at her. "Okay, that is him, good job."
"You're welcome," she says. "So what do we do now?"
"I'm not sure," I say, frowning. "We're seated too far away from him to make casual talk."
"I have an idea," she says.
"What's your idea?"
"Just wait and see."
She jumps up, and before I know what she's doing, she's hurrying to the other side of the room. I watch as she walks past the table, and then doubles back, fawning and gushing over Whittaker.
"What are you doing, Skye?" I mutter under my breath, as I sit here watching her.
She's laughing and playing with her hair, and I can see that she has all of the men’s attention. For a few seconds, I'm slightly jealous. For a few seconds, I feel guilty. Am I pimping out my assistant for a client? But no, I hadn't told her to do that. And then, before I know what's happening, Whittaker is shifting on the seat and she's sitting down next to him.
"What did you say to him, Skye?" I mutter under my breath.
I'm about to up and go and approach the table when the waitress comes back with two crystal flutes filled with a bright purple liquid.
"Here are the two Club Zs," she says, placing them on the table. "Just press the button if you need anything else."
"Thank you, I will."
"You're welcome," she says as she backs away.
I take a sip of the drink and I cough immediately. I don't recognize the alcohol that's in the glass, but it tastes disgusting. What a waste of $1,000, I think to myself.
