I chuckle, looking up at him with something that’s playful and even a little dangerous. “Well, thank you,” I tell him softly. “I appreciate you doing this for them.”
“Hope you enjoy it too, Teeny.”
“First time in a limo?” I smooth a hand over the lapel of his jacket and smile. “Of course I’m going to enjoy it.”
The distance to the club is short, which makes me question why a car was needed in the first place, but I don’t argue the indulgence of being drenched in LED lighting and expensive champagne. I sit next to Everett during the quick ride while we’re able to each sneak in a small flute of bubbly. The limo shifts during a sharp turn, and when I lean into him, I feel his hand brush against my hip to steady me.
I ignore it, though it takes a significant amount of effort with the alcohol slowly coursing through me. I tilt back the rest of my glass and place it on the mini bar. As soon as the car pulls to a stop, Josh and Mina pour out, the two giggling with their hands all over each other, drunk not only on the champagne, but also on love.
Grace hooks her arm through mine after she adjusts her dress, the act looking racy and seductive as she runs her hands over her curves. “Ready to be my wingman tonight?”
“I believe the PC term is ‘wing person.’”
“Whatever,” she says, waving a hand in my direction. “Just help me get laid.”
“Yes, ma’am.” I laugh, throwing a sloppy salute at her followed by a complying flick of my wrist.
As soon as we bypass the thick velvet ropes and walk into the darkly lit foyer of the club, I can barely hear my own thoughts let alone what Grace yells over the noise.
“What?” I yell.
“I said two o’clock! By the large ficus!” She looks at where she’s gesturing to, urging me to look too, and I see two men standing next to a tall decorative plant. They’re dressed in suits, dark and somewhat statuesque, and they’re looking right at us.
“How do you know that’s a ficus? It could totally be a fiddle leaf!” She looks at me like I’ve grown horns out the side of my head, and I offer a sheepish smile. She ignores my question and turns to throw a little wave in the direction of the questionable tree and the two men.
“What are you doing?!” I hiss loudly, gripping her hand mid-wave.
“Getting a little attention!”
“Well, get a little attention alone! When I’m not around!”
“Come on, Teeny! What happened to my wing woman?”
“How about if I just present you at the DJ booth with a cowbell and my starting offer?”
She cackles at the same time a laugh bubbles inside of me. I guess this is what I needed. A night away from reality with my family and friends. And Everett.
“Ready?” I turn just as Everett hovers over me like I’ve summoned him with my thoughts. I feel his hand at my back, and Grace and I look at him, unsure what we’re supposed to be ready for. “They’re showing us to our table.”
I hadn’t even noticed him talking to the hostess, too caught up with some unwanted attention, but next thing I know, we’re being escorted through a noticeably crowded room painted in strobe lights and bad decisions. People are dancing on top of high surfaces, men are approaching women, peacocking their way into their hearts, or their beds.
We stop once we arrive at a private booth, away from the dance floor where I can actually maintain a conversation without feeling like I’m talking over a wood chipper. We sit on plush seats wrapped around a small table filled with ice buckets with hard liquor and more champagne.
There’s a small moment of peace where we decide where we’re going to sit and what drinks we’ll concoct out of what’s available for us before we’re interrupted by the gaggle of the remaining wedding party. Mina’s bridesmaids enter the booth before stealing her away to the dance floor, to which she goes willingly.
“I’m going to go back to see if our new friends have made their way to the dance floor,” Grace tells me, her hand cupped against my ear. “You want to join me?”
I eye Everett, him and Josh exchanging some words I can’t hear over the noise. “You go ahead,” I tell her. “Just be careful. And use protection!”
Grace slides out of the booth and scurries off without a second glance.
“Andrew’s here,” Josh announces, his eyes on his phone. “He’s having some trouble getting past the bouncer. I’ll be right back.”
Josh leaves, and it’s just me and Everett. Me and Everett and enough alcohol to lower not only my inhibitions but also my restraint with about twelve inches of space between us.
“You want a drink?” Everett says, his voice heightened and enunciated.
I nod, and he reaches into one of the buckets, lifting the top of a drink hidden under all the ice. He pulls out a single serving bottle, and I cackle a laugh.
