1
Robyn
“Do we have to?” I ask as Carla loops her arm through mine and tugs me down the sidewalk. “We already had dinner…aaaaannnnd a whole bottle of bubbles. I’m sure that qualifies as celebrating.”
“One bottle of champagne split between two women over a whole dinner, including dessert, does not qualify.” Carla doesn’t slow down. “Besides, we have two promotions to celebrate, and you want to go home to your sofa. It’s not even nine yet. Live a little.”
“There’s this romance novel that recently came out from my favorite author that I’m dying to get into. My promotion brings a ton of responsibility. I’m nervous about it, and already tired thinking about all the work.”
“Your promotion only kicks in next month. You’re off duty this weekend.”
“I’m panicking. I want to rest and replenish.”
“You’ll rock as Head of Shifter Medicine.” She squeezes my arm. “You have the whole weekend to relax. Do you know what will help with your nerves?”
“A bubble bath?” I sound skeptical.
“A cocktail at The Wing and Claw. We are going to drink at least two of them, and you are going to remember that you are a human woman with blood in her veins.”
“Maybe if you change it to a Cosmo or two, you’ll twist my arm. Then again?—”
She winks at me. “We can make it a Cosmopolitan or two…no problem. Consider your arm to be well and truly twisted.”
I groan because she’s right and because I did actually promise a night out when she accepted the PA position. She earned it. Carla has been running the admin side of the main hospital with an iron-clad fist for the last year, and the moment I got this new role, I pulled her up with me. I could not do this job without her. I do not intend to try.
“One drink,” I say. “Then I’m calling it and going to bed.”
“Three.”
I gasp. “No way.”
“Yes, way.”
“Okay, fine…two drinks, but that is my final offer.”
She laughs. “Done.”
The Wing and Claw sits on a corner two blocks from my apartment. It’s a quaint bar, complete with wood paneling, low ceilings, and a long, gleaming dark wood bar. It’s the kind of place that looks small from the outside and swallows a hundred and fifty people without effort. Tonight, there is noise pouring out of it before we even reach the door. When Carla pulls it open, the wall of sound hits me in the face. There’s music, laughter, and the low hum of conversation.
“It’s too busy,” I shout. “Can’t we go somewhere else?”
“It’s perfect and exactly what we need,” Carla says, smiling.
She steers me through the crowd toward the bar. Bodies part around her. I follow in her wake, trying not to clip anyone with my bag. The bar itself is two people deep, with three bartenders running around trying to fill the orders. It takes a few minutes before a bartender with a tattoo of a snake on his neck takes our order. He’s working two taps and a cocktail shaker at the same time, eyes on us.
“Two Cosmos,” Carla calls. “Make them strong.”
“Make mine normal,” I shout.
He gives me a grin that says he’s going to ignore me and starts mixing as soon as he hands out the drinks he poured.
The bright pink cocktails arrive in martini glasses with a twist of lemon riding the rim. Carla clinks hers against mine.
“To the Head of Shifter Medicine,” she says.
“To the best PA on the island.”
“Damn right.”
