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I turned to my bodyguard and oldest friend. “Aren’t you supposed to be on my side?”
“You’re a workaholic.” Vlado shrugged and scanned the room. “We all know it.”
“I am. And a very successful one.”
“Maybe,” he gave me that much, “but you and I both know not micromanaging everything for a few hours won’t make or break anything.”
“That’s the nice way of saying put your phone away, dumbass,” Emily said.
I gestured at the phone in my defense. “I—”
“Away,” she repeated, scoldingly. “Face down is such a lame attempt at being present, it’s almost worse.”
I traded one more furtive look with Vlado, who discreetly nodded. This wasn’t just about work, and if he felt I could let my guard down for the night, I could. “Fine.” I flashed a smile at Emily.
They waited silently as I unlocked my phone to shut the open programs down, then tucked it into the pocket of my slacks.
“So, what do you think of the place?” Emily asked me. “You were so busy with your stupid phone you’ve barely looked around.”
I took in the lavish room. The décor reminded me of a wedding reception, elegant and a bit whimsical with touches of luxury. The ridiculous platform we were sitting on had been set up across from the stage, and a smaller, lower stage with a pole sat directly in front of us.
“It’s nice.” My eyes roved over the people next. Gorgeous men in tiny briefs wandered around taking orders for the bar and the catering that had been brought in. A crowd of women mingled about, sipping drinks and eating. Some were already at the tables. Others danced in an area that had been set up at the far side of the space. “It’s exactly what I would have expected from you,” I added.
She grinned. “What could be better than a night out with my girls at a private club where the men are purely for eye candy?”
A stunningly handsome man with long silky hair and wearing nothing but a tiny apron, a white jockstrap, and a smile came up to the platform.
“Can I get you some drinks before the show starts?” he asked, his gaze on Emily as he flashed her a million-watt smile.
She beamed back at him, eyeing his cut torso. “I’ll take a glass of champagne. He’ll take a bourbon sour.” She pointed to me. “And he’ll have a screwdriver.”
“Make that an orange juice,” Vlado said. “I’m on the clock.”
“No you’re not.” Em rolled her eyes. “Come on, Vlado. You’re as bad as my brother sometimes.”
“Ouch.” He put his hand over his heart. “Fine. One drink. But I’m switching to juice after because I’m responsible for driving your ass home tonight.”
“Deal.” She turned back to the server. “Thank you.”
“You can relax,” I told Vlado. “The place is secure, you said so yourself.”
Emily’s perfectly shaped eyebrow curled upward. “Please tell me you’re just being your usual paranoid self and I don’t have to worry about why your bodyguard is on high alert at my party?” Her stare ping-ponged between Vlado and me.
“It’s all good, Em,” Vlado said. “You know this looks like the weirdest head table ever, right? You’ve got the bride, her gay brother, and his bodyguard all up here like we’re some sort of throuple.”
I grimaced. “Never say the wordthrouplewhen speaking about myself and my sister again.”
“Gross.” Em shuddered in horror. “But man, if I could convince Mal to have some fun with another guy, I’d beallover that.”
“And if you could never mention anything sexual to me ever again, that would be great.” I scrunched my nose at her.
“Don’t be such a prude,” she said, waving her hand dismissively. She looked past me, to Vlado. “And it’s not like you’re complaining about being up here.”
“Hell no. How many times in my life am I going to be able to sit on a platform like a king and watch pole dancing?” He motioned at the pole platform in front of us. A smirk split his face.
“I thought you were straight?” Emily said.
“I am.” He leaned back in his chair and spread his legs out, relaxing, finally. “I can still appreciate the athleticism and skill it takes to do a pole routine without having to be attracted to the dancer.”
