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Apparently, the owner of The Meet Market and I did not share the same sense of humor. The name wasn't tongue-in-cheek; it was truth-in-advertising.
The sign on the door advertised half-price drinks for "ladies" after ten.
"Damn," I said. "We're early. No, wait. Cass, you can still get a discount." I pointed at a second sign, offering the same deal for any women participating in the hourly "wet T-shirt hosing."
"Tempting," she said. "But I'm wearing silk. You go ahead. I'm sure it wouldn't be the first time."
Before I could reply, a voice said, "Oh, she doesn't need to worry about paying full price." The bouncer waved us forward and whipped out a red band from his pocket. He caught my wrist and snapped it on. "There you go. The Meet Market special."
"Um, okay." I twirled the plastic band. "What is it?"
"The hottie bracelet." He winked. "Half-price drinks all night for you, gorgeous."
I turned to Cass. "Sorry."
"Oh, no," the bouncer said. "She gets one, too. There's always a place at The Meet Market for someone a little more mature than our regular clientele." He grinned. "And a lot more classy."
He reached for Cassandra's wrist.
She yanked her hand back. "Put that thing on me at your peril."
His grin grew. "Classy and sassy. I like it."
"Oh, trust me, you wouldn't like it," I said as I steered Cassandra past him. "Her bite is a lot worse than her bark."
As we entered the bar, I leaned down to whisper in her ear, "I think you could have gotten lucky."
"I wouldn't consider that luck."
"Oh, come on. Big. Brawny. Young. Not blond, but a wig would fix that."
"Nothing could fix that."
I laughed. Gazes shot my way. Chest first, face second, wrist third. A few guys broke from their packs and started to swoop in.
"What, they need a wristband to confirm that I'm hot?" I said.
"I suspect it serves the dual purpose of confirming that you're available."
I put my hand in my pocket.
"Which you are not," she murmured.
"Of course I am."
"You have not been available since you were twelve."
She sighed as I tried to stuff the band down out of sight, then she veered past a table where the lone occupant was watching her two friends at the bar. The women had left assorted flotsam and jetsam behind, including what looked like a collar for a pursedog.
Cassandra snagged the band, and brought it over. It turned out to be a leather bracelet studded with spikes. She lifted my wrist and snapped it over the hottie bracelet.
"Oh, that's so much better," I said.
"Biker bitch or hottie hoochie, it's your choice."
I left the bracelet on.
I texted the number Aaron had given us for Eloise. At the end of the bar, a tiny girl with platinum hair bobbed out from behind a throng of suitors. She waved frantical
