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The man waved his hand, dismissing my apologies. “Don’t be silly. They should be ashamed of themselves, hounding a family whose child is missing.” He gave us a sympathetic yet sheepish smile. “I recognize you all from the news. I really hope baby James is home soon. We’re all rooting for you.” He glanced over at Luca. “That uncle of yours is a real piece of work.”

“Don’t I know it,” Luca mumbled.

He handed the man a generous tip, and he took it with a nod of thanks, assured us our waitress would be here soon to take our order, and wished us a good night.

Silence descended over the eight of us, the guys all looking at me and Violet sitting side by side in the middle of the table, to make sure we were all right.

I sighed out heavily. “Well. This was a good start. We’re all sad and stressed.”

Dax grimaced from his spot on my other side and reached for my hand, squeezing it under the table.

But Violet sat a little straighter, drew her shoulders back, and clapped. “No. Nope! We’re not doing this. We came here to have a good time, and dammit, we’re going to have one.” She glanced over at a waitress hovering in the corner and gave her a warm smile. “Hey there. What’s your name?”

The young woman stepped forward. “Cecelia.”

Violet nodded. “Cecelia. I’m Violet, it’s lovely to meet you. I hate to make demands on you already, but we’re going to need alcohol. A lot of it. Like, not just a cocktail, I’m going to need pitchers of cocktails. Is that doable?”

Cecelia nodded quickly. “Of course. We do fabulous margaritas, if I may be so bold as to make a suggestion.”

Violet pointed at her. “You absolutely can be, and I’m going to go out on a limb for all of us and say that sounds amazing.” She linked her arm through mine. “We’re pumping and dumping tonight, baby.”

X’s eyebrows furrowed, and he leaned in so his arm brushed Violet’s, his voice lowered. But because it was X who was never quiet, even his attempt at a whisper was plenty loud enough for all of us to hear. “Omelet…is that code for sex and a shit? This is kind of a nice place; might be a bit inappropriate to talk like that here.”

It took a second for that to register before the entire table burst into laughter.

Violet was laughing so hard she got the hiccups and had to tell X that pumping and dumping was what breastfeeding mothers called it when they expressed milk then threw it away, often done when one didn’t have to feed a baby that night and wanted to have a drink.

X grinned at the new information he’d learned, or perhaps at the fact with a single sentence, no alcohol needed, he’d managed to turn the mood around. I knew from Violet how much X loved the people he loved. He had such a big heart, and he hated seeing anyone sad or upset. Somewhere along the way, he’d realized humor helped, and so even though his jokes were often at his own expense, the outcome being laughter always pleased him.

Violet checked over her shoulder to make sure we had the private dining space to ourselves; Cecelia was busy at the bar getting our pitchers of margaritas together. Violet waved at all of us to stop laughing and settle down. “Okay, so I declare that tonight, we are going to have a good time. Not just because we ordered enough margaritas to drown a small island, but because we all deserve it. So no talk of murders, kidnappings, children, Mafia wars, or serial killers.”

Dax laughed. “Is it a coincidence you put children in with all the others?”

Whip grinned and shook his head. “Wait ’til you have six-year-old twins and a newborn. You’ll understand why they go hand in hand.”

We all knew he didn’t really mean it. Whip excelled at being a father, and the three kids who had come into his life after the deaths of his first wife and older children were his heart and soul.

Cecelia came back with our drinks and poured us all glasses. I took a sip of mine, the fruity liquid sliding down my throat pleasantly. I glanced over at Violet and watched her swallow down a few mouthfuls.

She giggled. “Oh boy. We’re getting drunk tonight, aren’t we?”

I clinked my glass against hers. “Cheers, bestie. Love you.”

She kissed my cheek. “Love you more. Always.”

What might have started as a nice dinner in an upscale restaurant had turned into too many drinks, hysterical laughter, and stuffing our faces with the most delicious Mexican food I’d ever pushed past my lips. It was the sort of dinner we never could have had in the main dining room without someone shushing us. But because we were in a private room, or maybe because Luca had kept the tips generous and flowing, we’d been allowed to make a happy racket.

I took another sip of what had to be my third or fourth drink and waved at everyone to be quiet and listen. “Okay, so admit something true. Something you’ve never told anyone.” I closed my eyes and waved a drunken finger around, hitting Violet’s boob once, which made us both laugh, before settling on a spot somewhere to my left. I opened my eyes, and my finger was pointing at Whip. “Whip! You go first. I bet you have some good stories you’ve never told anyone from your days as a…” I lowered my voice. “Gigolo.”

Violet snorted and slapped my arm. “We don’t call it that! Shh!”

I laughed too, because everything was funny after three margaritas. “Wait, is that politically incorrect? Oh my God, I’m so sorry. Should I have said male prostitute?”

Luca, Lynx, and Dax were in hysterics at my distress. They’d all had more than their fair share of the margarita pitchers. So much so Lynx had eventually claimed a pitcher for himself and just stuck a straw straight in it, forgoing a glass at all.

Through their laughter, nobody gave me any help at all, so I kept trying. “Surely it’s not street walker? Wait, did you actually walk the streets? No, you were too classy for that, I bet.” I narrowed my eyes. “Hooker! No, that’s gotta be offensive. Whore?” I slapped a hand over my mouth. “Someone give me another drink so I shut up. I’m so sorry.”

Whip was laughing so hard he was crying, tears streaming down his cheeks that he wiped away with the back of his hand. “I think drunk Nyah is my favorite. To answer your question…or questions, I guess, I don’t speak for the entire profession, but I was always fine with sex worker.”