“How was your first week?” Conrad asks.
“Good.” I nod and offer him a smile. “Gail and Sam have both been great.”
“That’s right.” He nods. “I forgot that Sam was training you from home.”
“She is, and it’s been so helpful,” I tell him.
“All right,” Marshall says, setting a shot in front of each of us. He lifts his in the air and waits for us to join in. “To Sawyer. Welcome to the Riggins family. May your journey be long and prosperous.” He smirks and tosses back the shot.
From across the table, Hadley giggles and throws back her shot. Conrad does the same, and I realize all eyes are on me. Bringing the glass to my lips, I down it, and smile at them. “That’s so good. Doesn’t even taste like alcohol.”
“Nope, but trust me, it’s in there. You ladies want to dance?” Marshall stands and grabs Hadley’s hand, pulling her to her feet. She gives him zero resistance as she follows him out to the dance floor.
“Am I going to have to save his ass for that later?” Conrad asks, motioning his head toward his brother and my best friend.
“No. Derek and Had are tight. He knows she’s not going anywhere, and vice versa. They’ve been together for years.”
“Good. What about you? Anyone I need to worry about wanting to kick my ass if we join them?”
“Nope. Just me.” Definitely not your brother.
“You plan on kicking my ass?” he asks with a smile tilting his lips.
“Depends, you think you can keep up?” I take a couple of large drinks of margarita until it’s gone, and stand. “Show me what you’ve got, Riggins.” I’m probably playing with fire, drinking and dancing with my new bosses, but the guys are nice and friendly. As long as it stays that way, there shouldn’t be an issue.
“Oh, it’s on.” Conrad finishes off his beer, leaving the empty on the table, and places his hand on the small of my back, leading me to the dance floor. Once we’re in the crowd, close to Marshall and Hadley, he places his hands on my hips, and we begin to move. Over the course of a couple of songs, I somehow end up with Marshall, and Hadley with Conrad. The guys are a blast to be around, and I soon forget that they’re technically my bosses.
“I need a drink,” I say over the loud music. Hadley nods, and we motion to the guys that we’re headed to the bar. They nod in agreement and follow us, helping us move our way through the crowd.
“Two margaritas, two bottles.” Conrad points to the beer of the guy next to him. “And four shots, something fruity for the ladies,” he tells the bartender, sliding his black Amex across the bar.
We down our shots, and take our drinks with us back out on the dance floor. We repeat this same process more times than I can count. Finally, the bartender announces last call, and we realize we’re all too drunk to drive.
“I’m calling D-Derek.” Hadley grins.
“Fuck,” Marshall mutters. “Grant is usually who we call. He’s more laidback than the others.” He looks over at Conrad. “Owen or Royce?”
“Owen,” they say in unison.
I feel my shoulders relax that they didn’t choose Royce. I tune them out and try to focus on Hadley and her conversation with Derek. He’s picked us up before, but it’s been a long time, a very, very long time since we’ve let loose like this. And I did it with my bosses!
“Am I getting fired?” I blurt the question.
“No. Why would you even ask that?” Conrad asks.
“You’re,” I drunkenly wave my hand in the air toward them, “you’re my bosses, and I’m drunk.”
“You’re not on the clock, Sawyer. Besides, it’s a free country. You can drink if you want. You’re of legal age. You’ve done nothing wrong,” Conrad assures me.
I nod and notice that with that simple act, my head feels heavier and fuzzier than before. I’m piss-ass drunk, and I know tomorrow I’m going to be nursing the hangover from hell.
“Derek is about five minutes out,” Hadley says. She links her arm through mine, and together we start making our way through the thinning crowd to the exit.
“We’ll wait with you. Owen’s almost here,” Marshall says, stepping up beside me.
The four of us head out of the club, and the cool breeze of the night air does wonders for my heated skin. My hair and clothes are wet from sweat from all the dancing and close bodies. I know I’m a hot mess without even looking in the mirror.
A sleek black sports car that looks like sex—yes, cars can look like sex. At least they do in my current drunken state—pulls up next to us.
“That car is hot as fuck,” Hadley says from beside me. It’s like she can read my thoughts. That’s why we’re best friends.