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“Hey, Boss,” Felipe greets. “Shot of Martin Mills?”
I raise my brows. “Where’d you get that?”
“You’re not the only one with connections.” Felipe pours a couple ounces. “Everything okay?”
It’s too cliché to pour out my troubles to the bartender, so I take the whiskey and reply, “Yeah.”
For some reason, the person I feel like talking to is Bridget. She’d understand my qualms regarding Drumm. It’s too bad she didn’t come with Amy tonight. Maybe I should give her a call.
“That’s incredible,” I say to Felipe of the complex butterscotch notes in the drink. “Thank you.”
I walk back upstairs, where JD and Amy are now situated. I sit down opposite Amy. “You didn’t bring Bridget with you.”
She looks surprised. “Was I supposed to?”
“Hell no,” JD replies before turning to a server. “Mojito for the lady. Extra mint.”
“I’m with JD on that one,” says Kimberly. “Talk about a downer. No offense, Amy, but where did you find her?”
“She’s my friend,” Amy replies, a little hurt. “And she’s actually really nice. Though, I guess she can come across a little salty.”
“A little?” Kimberly replies, exchanging a look of agreement with Eric.
“She speaks her mind,” I say. I turn to Eric. “Like your dad.”
“She’s better off not speaking her mind,” Kimberly says.
Eric chuckles. “Burn!”
“What are you, in the third grade?” I shoot back.
Surprised, Eric turns to JD. But I don’t stick around to see who’s side JD takes. I walk away to find Cheryl.
“I want the cell number for Bridget Moore,” I tell her.
