Frost:
It would seem that way. I'll text you the address.
Wells:
Can I be released from this chat?
Frost:
No
Spencer:
No
Rook:
If I suffer you suffer
Reed:
ITS A BOY? FFS CONGRATS
There was no doubt which venue was hosting Frost's party. I had never been to Swizzle, but even as I drove by on the busy street, the bright lights, the enormous 3D-printed candy canes, and the thumping music advertised the space as a classic Benjamin Frost affair. I parked in a public parking garage and walked the short distance past a jewelry store and to the upscale bar with my hands in my chino pockets. The door had been propped open, even with the chilly December temperatures, and as I entered the LED-lit space, a laughing couple wearing Santa hats staggered out with martinis still in hand.
The bar was packed, and red and green lights flashed in sync with techno Christmas music as guests talked, laughed, and danced in equal measure. The pillars throughout the space had been wrapped with wide red ribbon to look like candy canes, and the bartender and waiters all wore candy cane-striped suit jackets. I laughed under my breath at the ostentation of the whole thing, making my way to the bar where a woman in a tight, sparkly sheath dress made eye contact with me from where she sat on a stool. She had long, silky, black hair pulled over one bare shoulder, and as I leaned against the bar, she smiled and pushed a candy cane into her mouth slowly.
I smiled back, considering the possibility. The problem was…
"Spence!" Frost met me at the bar, disengaging himself from a tight gaggle of friends. He was wearing a red brocade vest, almost like a corset, and his tall frame filled out the white button-down he had beneath. His unruly, light brown curls had been styled short along the bottom and perfectly careless on the top—his look for as long as I'd known him—and overall, he kind of looked like a Regency virgin's wet dream. He always had been overly theatrical.
He reached me and clapped me on the shoulder, deceptively strong for someone who looked lithe. I knew better. He might have wrestled in a lower weight class in high school, but he could put down a man twice his size in a half nelson without breaking a sweat.
"Hey, man." I gestured around the packed space with a lazy hand on the bar surface. "Great party. Who decorated—Hallmark?"
"The band of elves will be offended by your insinuation," he replied, his voice low and classically charming. Or, at least, that was what I’d heard from his partners in our social circle. Frost didn't spend much time with one person, man or woman, before moving on.
"Did the band of elves provide food? I'm starving," I joked.
"They made a really killer candy cane martini," he offered unhelpfully, gesturing with his head toward the bar. "Very expensive. Very tasty. And you look like you need a drink, anyway. Are you still offering your blood and sweat on the altar of the newborns?"
"That is a metal way to refer to neonatology, but yes." I waved to the female bartender, who had a platinum blond pixie cut. "I'll take a beer and a burger if you have it."
"Sure thing," she smiled. "Tap or…?"
"I really don't care."
Frost glared. "You're slighting my custom martini on purpose."
"You called my job a satanic cult. And a candy cane martini sounds objectively terrible." I patted his arm. "I'm sure the rest of your adoring guests are very good at lying to you, though. Your ego will recover."
He glanced at the candy cane girl who was dragging the stick slowly down her tongue and making eye contact with him. "Hm, probably," he agreed with amusement tilting his lips. Returning his attention to me, Frost squinted one bright blue eye. "You seem more surly than usual."
"Do I?" I accepted the frothy glass of beer from the bartender and took a sip.
"Is this because your wife won't answer your phone calls?" Frost leaned his back against the counter, propping his elbows on the counter and surveying his raucous party.
Was it? I had been calling Arabella for months, trying to transfer the deed to her ranch in her name, but she refused to answer me. I hadn't seen her in almost a year. "I don't know. Part of it is Arabella, but my job is just… draining me lately."
