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I’m standing, wedged between Jerry and Sandra. Dean is on her other side, giving me the rundown.
“Oh my God, girl, how cute are you in those pants.” He waves his hand over my pretty basic work outfit. “Your chic professional is on point.”
I nod, finishing my sip of gin and tonic. “Patton said to lose the cardigan. I’m not eighty.”
“And he is so right.” Dean shakes his head. “That man has impeccable style. He should be gay.”
I want to argue he should not, but that would be showing my hand. Instead, I take another sip of my drink and nod again. “Then you wouldn’t be head fashion queen!”
“It’s true. He can stay straight. Or not.” Dean laughs. “Hell, I’d settle for Taron. They’re all so lickable.”
“Don’t let Patton bother you.” Jerry leans too close into my ear, placing his hand on my lower back. “You always look amazing.”
“Thanks!” I say bright and loud, doing my best to move away from his hands and face, but Sandra has me blocked. “So what was up with that guy today… Martin? What’s his story?”
It’s like I uttered the unspeakable word. Their expressions all close. Sandra takes a sip of her white wine, and Dean turns toward the bar. Jerry’s the only leach I can’t seem to shake.
I start to laugh. “Holy shit, what is he? The Ghost of Christmas Past?”
Sandra leans closer, lowering her voice. “Nobody really talks about it. The subject is very much off limits.”
“Off limits?” I take another sip of my drink, getting excited. “Why?”
She shrugs. “They were all in the military together, and something bad went down with Marley. Now they’re all very protective of him. Or at least Patton is. Taron is too distracted.”
Jerry’s voice rises louder. “Taron’s back is all fucked up because of it. Marley was in some kind of situation. Now he’s shell-shocked.” His hand is on me again, and I do my best to maneuver away from him. “He’s more a danger to himself than anything—except when he starts losing clients… or other things.”
I think about this. Patton was agitated when Marley entered the room. He can’t control that one. “I think he was on drugs.”
Dean holds up a perfectly manicured hand. “I can verify he entered the office smoking a joint. It was good shit, too. I could tell by the smell.”
My voice is quiet. “He actually said Moto-Moto to the Madagascar team.”
Jerry coughs and starts to laugh. “No, shit.”
All our eyes meet, and we all start laughing.
“Tell me he didn’t!” Dean cries.
“It was so awful.” I shake my head, wiping tears. “It wasn’t funny at the time. I was legit freaking out. They almost walked.”
“That sounds about right.” Jerry’s hand returns to my back, only this time it’s lower, sliding down to cup my butt.
“Oh! Excuse me.” I jerk away from him and almost step on Sandra.
“Careful there!” She lifts her glass and passes it to the other hand.
I’m now between her and Dean, glaring at Jerry. He closes his eyes and polishes off his second whiskey, then turns away to the bartender.
My lip goes between my teeth, and I frown. I suppose it could have been an accident.
Sandra finishes her wine, and gives me a little squeeze. “All’s well that ends well. I’ve got to run.”
“No!” I look at my full tumbler. “I just ordered this. Don’t go.”
“Have to. I unlock the doors at seven-thirty.” Hooking her finger in Dean’s coat, she gives him a tug. “Time to go, Cinderella.”
“Not you, too!” Now I’m really panicking.
