Our little hunky bartender had put so much vodka in that first drink that I was buzzed within minutes. “To sisters,” Cammie said, clinking her glass with mine.Īlthough that certainly wasn’t the last cheers of the night, it was definitely the last one I remembered. She threw her head back and laughed before sitting up and locking eyes with me. That little comment pulled Cammie out of her funk. “Well, to be fair, most of these people want those poles in their asses.” I feel like we’d have more fun downstairs with people who don’t have poles up their asses.” “Sometimes I just can’t stand the people in these clubs. I didn’t think we’d need security if we were in the VIP section,” I said as we took our seats across from each other.Ĭammie shrugged innocently before holding her glass out toward me. “You’re making me regret not bringing along Hank tonight. Instead of chairs, there were miniature couches covered in rich brown velvet-a bit tacky for my taste- but they were so soft so who cares.

The lighting was dim inside the club, especially near the perimeter where separate tables were tucked away into little alcoves. Cammie had much less patience with entitled yuppies than I did. We took the drinks, and I dragged Cammie toward a table in the corner before a brawl broke out. Here you go, Brooklyn,” the bartender said, cutting the tension and holding out two martini glasses garnished with lemon peel and dipped in sugar. We’ve been waiting here for ten minutes and you guys just cut the line.” The girl batted her overly mascaraed eyelashes at us.

The Duet by R.S. Grey