“I like your place, Tami. It’s really nice,” Cal said as he held the door open for us.
“Thanks. It was a steal, and perfect timing. It’s a first-time rental.”
“The architecture is cool. It’s so woodsy,” he said before looking at me as we piled into my car. “I’m not the real estate guru, so I don’t know what it’s called.”
I smiled. “It’s an old Craftsman. All original beams and wood. It’s a great house.”
• • •
The club was about a five-minute drive from Tami’s house, ten with Saturday night traffic. I pulled up to the valet in front of the building and gave him my name.
He nodded and opened my door for me, waiting as I carefully maneuvered out of the driver’s seat so as not to show off my goods. Paparazzi swarmed us, and even though we were technically nobodies, a few flashes still went off.
Cal positioned himself between me and Tami, giving each one of us an arm. We walked up to the entrance, where an older gentleman dressed in black glanced at us before smiling, his earpiece and clipboard identifying him as the greeter. Ron preferred to used the same people at his events when possible. He said he liked the idea of having people be familiar and comfortable, believing it took the edge off.
“Jules.” Razz smiled at me before giving me a kiss on my cheek. “Tami,” he said, greeting her the same way. “And who is this, besides the luckiest gent of the evening.” He extended a hand toward Cal.
“Hi, Razz,” I said with a smile. “This is Cal. He’s here from Boston for the weekend.”
“You know how lucky you are, right?” Razz asked him, and Cal grinned.
“I’m aware.”
Razz scanned his clipboard and crossed off our names before adding the time next to it. Even though he knew us, he still needed to mark that we’d arrived, and for whatever reason, Ron liked to know when his guests showed up.
“All right, you three. Go have a good time.”
“Is Ron already here?”
Razz cocked his head to the side. “Are you kidding? He’s been here since five.”
I laughed. “Have a good night, Razz.”
“You too, doll. You ladies look stunning,” he said as we headed through the door.
I loved this particular club because it was split up into sections. There was a dance floor that boomed with the bass from the DJ, but there were also separate sitting areas where you could actually conduct business or have conversations without shouting to be heard. There was something about a space that fit multiple needs that appealed to me.
As we walked in, a guy in a tuxedo approached us with a tray in his hand. “Tequila shots?” he offered.
Remembering that the party was to promote this particular brand of tequila, I took one and made sure Cal and Tami did too. It would be rude not to.
When the waiter slipped away, the three of us glanced at one another.
“I hate tequila,” I said with a groan.
“Me too,” Cal said, grimacing at his shot.
Tami rolled her eyes. “Well, I love it. Stop being pussies and try it, then give me the rest,” she said before clanking her plastic shot glass against ours. “Cheers.” She downed it without making a face.
“Like a pro,” she said, still watching us. “Are you two going to stare at yours all night, or are you going to drink it? It’s actually pretty good.”
When I sniffed my shot glass, my insides quivered. One bad tequila night back in college and I’d banned the stuff from my life until now. I didn’t even care for it in a mixed drink, much less down it by itself.
“Just give it to me,” Tami said before taking it from my hand and tossing it down her throat. “What’s your excuse?” she asked Cal.
“Not a tequila guy, honestly,” he said with a shrug.
“But you’ll drink that bourbon shit all night, and that stuff’s awful,” she snapped at him before turning her back to us and moving through the crowd.