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The Salamander was a well-kept secret before. But now it’s infamous. Known for changing its locations regularly and being selective on who enters, the club’s reputation has only grown since the Rosania-Scarano family started backing it. From what I know, the Arco brothers still own the place, taking money from the Italians to keep it afloat.
My friends know nothing about this, however. Which is why I can’t exactly tell them I’m technically not allowed to be here. This isn’t my turf, and if anyone knew I was here, I’d be in hot water. Still, a part of me wants to see what it’s like. The Irish aren’t in the club business—we mostly deal with pubs and breweries for our more legal fronts.
But, it couldn’t hurt if no one found out.
“Come on, Cara, it’ll be fun. I promise.” Sadie grabs my arm, looping it through her own as she drags me to the front. “Besides, Kimmy’s already gotten us in. I just texted her. She’s coming to the front now.”
Sure enough, our blonde bombshell shows up at the door less than a minute later. Kimmy flashes the bouncer a seductive smile before pulling us in after her. We’re swallowed by the darkness, following the thudding music towards a metal door. Kimmy pries it open, light spilling into the corridor.
All I can do is stare.
Lights flash, strobing across the dance floor. Above our heads, women dangle from golden silk cloths and hoops. Gold vines wrap around the furniture, the stairs, and the bar. The floor and walls were painted black, the furniture more gold. Beside me, Sadie’s eyes are wider than the moon.
“Oh my fucking god,” she breathes. “This is…”
“Amazing?” Kimmy nudges us both playfully. “Come on, let’s get a drink.”
“I’ll just have water,” I say quickly. If I’m going to be in enemy territory, getting drunk is the last thing I want to do. Kimmy and Sadie pin me with a look.
“Girl, just for one night, can’t you loosen up the tiniest bit?” Kimmy huffs, arms folding across her chest. I wince, even if I am used to her abrasive honesty.
“Cara,” Sadie stepped between us, taking my hands, “we don’t have classes tomorrow. You don’t have to work. We don’t have to work. This is the first night in a long time that all three of us can get together.” She gives me puppy-dog eyes with her big, blue irises, and I sigh.
“Alright. I’ll have one drink,” I finally say. Kimmy rolls her eyes, but Sadie looks victorious.
Sadie has been my friend since we were in middle school. She knew every button to push to get her way. Kimmy joined us in high school, but even then, we were all ‘thick as thieves,’ as my father would say. I’m not even sure how we remained friends for so long. All three of us were so completely different from each other.
Kimmy—not Kim—is our art fiend with a penchant for leopard print and pink. A boisterous party girl, once she got onto the dance floor, she couldn’t be stopped. Her blunt honesty takes some getting used to, and she has zero filters in that creative brain of hers, but we love her anyway. I’ve always been a bit jealous of Kimmy. Being the youngest of three, she basically got away with everything, with as little responsibilities as possible. Not to mention she’s drop-dead gorgeous with natural blonde hair and legs for days. She has that type of face that everyone remembers; round blue eyes and natural plush lips most women would kill to have.
Sadie is innocent, sweet, and kind. She’s the girl-next-door you’d love to bring home to meet the parents, a good influence. She likes to pretend she’s feistier than she really is. She volunteers at multiple charities in her free time. I’ve watched her cry whenever she sees cute babies and volunteers at the local children’s shelter, which is no wonder why she decided to go to school for nonprofit management. Honestly, Sadie is a saint.
And me? I’m the go-getter. I take my friends’ crazy dreams and turn them into a reality. When Kimmy needed help applying to Parsons, I was there. And I even helped her apply for the full-ride scholarship she’d been struggling with for months. When Sadie needed to help balance the books at the children’s shelter, I spent all night with her getting it done. I’m proud of my hard work and my accomplishments. Being an only child, I always had to work twice as hard to please my parents. Especially when it came to proving myself with the family business.
But, even if they’d been my best friends for years, none of them knew about that last part. Sure, they knew my father owned a few breweries around New York and was successful. But that was public knowledge. I never told them anything more simply because I wanted to protect them from that world. From my world.
“So, what will it be?” Kimmy asks, hauling us to the bar. She glances at Sadie before she can even open her mouth. “I know—cranberry vodka. And for Miss Hard-ass over here??” She turns to me expectantly.
I bite my lip, pulling the black and gold menu across the bar. It’s not like I never drank—I just didn’t do it often. Staring down at the long list of names and descriptions of every cocktail, beer, and liquor imaginable, I hesitate.
And I never hesitate.
“Just get me an O’Ryan Lager.” I slide the menu away.
The bartender is already close by and overhears me. He frowns, flipping the towel in his hand over his shoulder. “We don’t sell that here.”
Oh. Right. Italian club. No Irish beer.
“Uh, I’ll just take whatever pale lager you have on tap then,” I tell him smoothly.
He shoots me a look before pulling the tap and sliding over what looks like a terrible, terrible choice. I eye it critically. The Italians might be efficient in Campari and bellinis, but beer specialists they are not.
“What type of woman orders an Irish beer in a club like this?”
I startle, nearly spilling my glass across the bar top. A man’s hand reaches out, steadying the glass. My eyes track up the suit sleeve to where the jacket strains across a broad chest before finding the most startling gray eyes I’d ever seen. His sharp jaw was lined with dark scruff that would make most men look unkempt and haggard. But on him? It looked sexy. Tantalizing. He had that classic Roman look, the type that made him look like a god. He had an angular nose slightly bent along the bridge, as if it had been broken too many times, and full lips that were currently curled into the most devious smirk.
I realize I’d been staring far too long. “This girl,” I snap, turning away.
My friends finally take notice, peeking over my shoulder. The minute they take him in, their eyes go wide. And I definitely recognize that look on Kimmy’s face. She tugs at my shoulder, turning me around.
