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Chas shrugged, one shoulder rising higher than the other in crooked uncertainty.
Rafael nodded agreement with Michael’s statements, trying to convey his sympathy to Chas with only a look. He glanced around and saw Lance in the doorway to the lounge, talking with the wolf shifter who was the bouncer for this VIP area. Catching his friend’s eye, Rafael mimed a drink and tilted his head at Chas. After finishing whatever he was discussing, Lance disappeared, coming back within minutes with a bottle of scotch and glasses on a tray.
Lance approached the table and laid out the glasses, including one for himself, pouring a generous round before setting the bottle in the middle of the table. "How did your contract signing go?" he asked Raf when no one seemed ready to break the silence of their first sips of scotch.
Raf had a quick-flashed mental image of the pretty lawyer he’d spent most of the meeting observing. Even now, his body instinctively reacted to her, which hadn’t happened to him in a while—but he dragged his thoughts back to the meeting itself and groaned quietly, though not quietly enough. All his friends picked up on the faint noise and turned curious expressions in his direction. "They made a fuss over something minor and we didn’t actually get it signed. I have to go back in today to sign the final contract. No way in hell am I doing business with them again."
"So I take it you’re not going to be starting the system upgrades for the club, then?" Lance asked, one eyebrow rising. "You are still planning to do that, right?"
"Yes, of course! I’ll get to the club next, I swear, Lance." Rafael knew he was behind schedule with the various tech upgrades they had planned, and as that was his area of expertise, he was in charge of making it happen. "The dickheads at Next-Gen have just dragged this out ridiculously long. I’m sorry I haven’t been able to start yet."
Lance looked simultaneously irritated and amused. "No sweat, Raf. I know you’re good for it. Just don’t procrastinate after you do finally get the contract signed, yeah?"
Chuckles sounded from around him as Raf nodded penitently. He checked his watch, another item he’d custom-ordered in bronze. He had the capital to be snobbish about his color if he chose, even if the watch required cleaning constantly from contact with the moisture and oils in his skin. "I’m going to have to go in half an hour," he told the table. "But I can have another drink before I go." He reached for the glass Lance had poured, raising it in the air. "To Phoenix! Best damn idea I ever had."
The others all toasted their club eagerly. "As I recall it, you wanted a shifter-friendly place to gather," Chas said. "The club was Lance’s and my idea."
Rafael chuckled; it was an old debate. "Will you all still be here when I’m through with my business? I doubt it will take me more than an hour, all told."
Chas and Aidan both shrugged, exchanging a glance. Aidan gave a nod. "I’ve nothing better to do tonight. Chas and I can hold down the fort." His eyes went to Michael, who looked disappointed.
"Sorry, I have a dinner meeting. Trying to hook a major resort client." Michael rubbed his stubbled jaw. "I’ll probably crash after."
Raf shrugged. "It was good to see you tonight. I’m sure we’ll find time in the next couple weeks." He glanced at Aidan, who had the least regular schedule of them all. "You’re still off next week, right?"
Aidan grimaced. "I think they’re going to need us to fly out to that fire in Crater Lake Park. Even if we’re supposed to have it off, we’ll go. We always do." The younger man had worked hard to become the leader of one of the most highly sought-after firefighting crews in the Pacific Northwest in the twenty-five years Raf had known him. Raf and his friends all nodded; they knew how quickly Aidan got called in sometimes.
Raf nudged the firefighter gently. "Just text us this time when you take off, yeah?"
A snort from Chas and an abrupt, very fake cough from Michael told him his friends were just as quick to enjoy themselves at Aidan’s expense. Aidan rolled his eyes expressively. "Jeez, that was a special case last time."
"Sure it was," Michael mumbled. "Did you ever get her number?"
Aidan threw a balled-up cocktail napkin at him. "Yes, and you can’t have it."
Rafael meant to make a sarcastic comment about their friend’s love of the ladies, not that any of them could really call him out with their own histories, but just thinking of ladies reminded him of the blonde lawyer—or was it brunette? The top layers of her hair had been blonde, but the rest seemed darker. It had set off the purple blouse she was wearing nicely, even if he would’ve liked to see it pulled up off her shoulders so he could see if that neck had been as graceful as it had appeared.
"Raf?"
He blinked and looked up, to find two pairs of blue eyes and one of green focused on him. "What?"
Michael’s grin was swift. "Oh, do tell."
"What?" Raf repeated, looking at the other two, both of whom seemed mildly amused—at his expense this time.
"Nothing," Chas replied, failing to keep his amusement from his eyes even if he managed a straight face. "We were just wishing there were more shifters in the area. None of us have had great luck dating recently." His baby blue eyes danced with humor, clearly thinking Raf had gotten distracted by a woman.
"Oh. Yeah, that would be nice. Maybe it’s time to do another PR campaign?" Rafael asked, not going to dignify their amusement with a response, even if he had been thinking of a woman. He didn’t even know her name. At their meeting, she’d introduced the other company’s officers, but not herself. Zach would probably know; the two lawyers had seemed familiar with one another.
"It’s not as easy to seek out shifter families for flyers," Chas told him. "Even word-of-mouth only goes so far."
"So don’t seek out shifters," Raf replied. "Send out flyers wide. Let word-of-mouth travel once they get here. It’s not like the bouncers can’t tell the difference." He brought people here all the time, trying to promote the club, but though it had taken off as the first local shifter-friendly site at first, they had hit a plateau. Whether that was due to not reaching enough people or just a limit to how long shifters of various types could stand to socialize with one another, he didn’t know. There was no struggle for dominance here, not with dragons owning and running the club. Speaking of struggle… "Anyone seen Kai recently?"
Michael sighed as the others shook their heads. "He’s been worse than usual lately. I think he’s been cruising through motorcycle clubs looking for a fight. Even lets them beat him up if he’s woefully outnumbered, like he was human. But I don’t have the foggiest idea why."
The four friends lapsed into silence, broken only by the creak of the leather seat as Raf leaned forward to pour another round of drinks and the splashing of whisky into tumblers. "Whose turn is it?" Raf asked once they’d all picked up the glasses again.
"Probably mine," Aidan admitted. "I wasn’t around the last time Kai had an incident."
