“Joe!” Jack called out, hurrying over to shake the attractive man's hand. “Joe” got a very confused look on his face.
“Dude, this is Paul...” “Joe” said, patting Jack's shoulder as if he were a confused child. “You've met him before.”
Jack rolled his eyes. “No, you're Joe. Our bartender doesn't know who we are.” Jack grinned as “Joe's” eyes lit up as he got it.
“The fake name game? I love it. I guess he's still Paul, then.” “Joe” inclined his head at the heavy-set man bee-lining his way to the bar. “Who's everybody else?”
“I already introduced myself as Jack. Same with Noah. But “Bob” did not.”
“Lucky Bob, then. Noah's here? Awesome.” Joe turned to the bar, and I felt his eyes do a once over down my body. “Lucky Noah, actually.” At least the last part was quiet enough that I could imagine he hadn't meant me to hear it.
“Give me some of that 1954 Mccallan scotch, sweetheart,” Paul said.” And don't be stingy.” His eyes slid down the opening of my shirt like he owned me. I fought the urge to button up. Hopefully he tipped as well as his friends.
I poured him a generous glass of the amber liquid and set it on the counter. He took one small sip, a smile crossing his thin lips before slamming the rest of it down. I tried not to look horrified. Scotch, especially a bottle that probably cost around three grand, should not be slammed back like a shot. It would be like using a Monet as toilet paper.
“One more, honey,” Paul rasped. He coughed slightly at the alcohol burning his esophagus. I guess when you had rich friends, it was tempting to use their nice things in a way you wouldn't normally. I tried to forgive him a little, but it was hard. “If you want some fun later...” He winked and dropped a quarter in the tip jar.
I poured a modest glass, and this time he picked it up and sipped rather than chugging. He gave me that thin-lipped smile that made my stomach curdle a little and went to sit on the couch with “Joe” and “Bob.” Jack was starting up a game of some sort on the giant TV screen. Paul turned down an offer for a controller, looking at the black plastic like it might bite him.
“Don't mind him,” Noah said, leaning up on the bar beside me. “He's usually pretty harmless. I can't believe Lo--I mean “Joe”--brought him, though.”
“He's not a friend of Jack's?” I asked, wiping down the empty Naughty Shirley glass.
“Not really.” Noah shook his head. “He's a lawyer. He's helped us all out at some point or another. I'm just surprised he came. This isn't exactly his type of party.”
I looked over at the man on the couch, sipping away on his scotch and glaring at the TV. I could see him at a loud club, leering at the girls, and telling them all how terribly important he was. Sitting on a couch with a bunch of barely-thirty-somethings playing Halo didn't exactly fit him.
I shook the beer pitcher, rattling the quarter from Paul. “At least he's a good tipper.”
Noah laughed, putting his hand on my shoulder. It was like sexual lighting hit me. Heat flooded my stomach, and if I were less of a lady and more a caveman, I would have thrown him over my shoulder and found a bedroom somewhere. I had no idea it was even possible to have that strong a connection just by someone casually touching my shoulder.
I glanced up at Noah, wondering if he felt it too, but he just smiled down at me like he was actually just interested in the tip jar. Except those eyes. They held a blue fire that told me he had felt something too, despite what the rest of his face said.
He cleared his throat, releasing my shoulder and getting a cup of Malibu and Coke for himself. “So, you live here on the island?”
“Yeah.” I grabbed one for myself. Rachel did say to have a good time. “You just here for the party?”
Noah nodded. “I'm here for a couple of days. My schedule is pretty open, though.”
“If you want, I'd be happy to show you around the island. I mean, if “Bob” doesn't want the honor,” I offered. Noah's face split into a grin. He nodded and opened his mouth to speak, but a new guest cut him off.
Sandcastle Kisses: Chapter 2
“Hello, Party People!” A man that resembled Jack stepped off the bottom stairs wearing an obnoxiously bright orange Hawaiian shirt. “Looking good, Dean,” the man said, patting the big bodyguard on the chest. Dean rolled his eyes.
?
?Oh, look, my brother is here,” Jack said blithely, hitting pause on his game and rising to his feet. “Noah, Izzy, hide the booze so there's some for everybody else.”
“Hey, big bro. Love you too.” The mini-Jack grinned and came up to the bar. “The usual please, Noah.”
“Your name tonight is 'Sam',” Noah told him, pulling out several kinds of liquor. “Izzy here doesn't recognize us.”
“Sam's” face went blank for a moment, as though the name meant something to him, but then he put on a dazzling, fake smile. “Seriously?”
“Yup. This is “Bob” and “Joe's” idea, but go with it.” Noah pointed to each man to name him. “Jack, Paul and I are already outed.”
Sam thought for a moment then grinned. “Let's make it even more interesting. If you figure out everyone's name by the end of the night, I'll give you...” He opened up his wallet and counted his cash. I was expecting it to be around $20. “Two thousand dollars. No cheating and looking it up on your phone. Real detective work. Don't skimp on the cherries, Noah.”