“Ugh.” Joaquin tromps back to the other side of the bar and refills his glass with straight bourbon. “Man,fuck that. I don’t need his money. I’m going to figure out something on my own. Hey.” He jerks his chin at me. “You should hire me. I wanna sell planes and make fat commissions like you do.”
I internally cringe. “Uh.”
The last thing I need is an Elle-type situation with my closest friend, sohow about no?
I clear my throat. “You don’t want to do that. Even my fat commissions don’t come close to what you’re living on right now.”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah… whatever,” Joaquin mumbles into his glass as I down my drink and sidle up to the bar next to him.
I hold out my glass so he can refill it. “So, where is your dad, anyway? Is he going to be around tomorrow?”
“Yep.” Joaquin pours a generous serving of the bourbon. “He was traveling today, but he’ll be back in the morning. Why?”
“Well…” Joaquin is actually the perfect person to help prime this situation, and I gulp down a large swallow. “I wanted to talk to him about this new line of fine fuckin’ machines we’re about to roll out next year. I wanted to see if he was interested in having first dibs on a fleet for UMG.”
Joaquin forms his mouth into a circle as his brow pulls low. “Ooooh…” He gives a deft nod. “Definitely would pique his attention. I know he’s been talking about replacing the jets. They’re not inbadshape, but they definitely don’t feel as first class as they did ten years ago.”
I nod in agreement. “Iknow. Ten years is right around the time frame when you want to upgrade if you’re running an operation like his. And since we’re only talking to select clients about these, he’d be the only one in his industry with these jets.” I hitch one shoulder. “At least for another couple of years.”
“Yeah.” Joaquin swirls his glass. “You should definitely talk to him tomorrow. I’ll give him a heads up when I see him in the morning.” He raises his chin and offers another quick whistle. “Hey, sourpuss.”
Malachi looks up from his phone again. “Yes?”
“Come over here and have a real drink so you can lighten up.”
Malachi rolls his eyes and approaches just as gales of laughter explode from the sofa where all the women are still sitting and chatting. They’ve switched from glasses to passing around a bottle of champagne, and Elle’s seated on one end of the couch holding it by its neck as she clutches her stomach and laughs hysterically along with the rest of them.
It’s so infectious that I can’t help smiling and pushing away from the bar to find out what’s so goddamn funny.
“It was like aleotard?” Graciela wheezes, pitching forward across Isla.
Elle swallows her laughter for a second as she offers a big, dramatic nod. “Straight uptights.” She swings the bottle in my general direction. “He was like, ‘they’re to keep my legs warm.’ And I was like, ‘okay, fine, butjogging pantswould do that, too.’” She brings the bottle neck to her mouth as she stifles more giggles. “But, nope. He wanted to wear tights under his running shorts instead.”
She’s obviously talking about fictional me in our fictional relationship, and I’m not sure if I like her style of improv. “What are you talking about, Elle?”
Her grin is wide as she swings her face around toward me and then leaps off the sofa to approach me. “You know…” Her sable brows are high on her forehead with so much delight that I can’t help smiling also. “Those tights you wore under your running shorts the first weekend I stayed at your place.” Her brows wiggle up and down, and I purse my lips, but play along.
“Oh…yeah.” I turn to the rest of the women. “They have way better insulation than jogging pants.”
Elle pitches forward to hug me with our bodies flush against each other, the champagne bottle swinging at my back. “And his butt looks really good in them.”
The women cackle. Even Isla is chortling, and given how sour her mood has been all day, I’m okay with being the literal butt of this joke. Especially given that Joaquin basically gave me verbal confirmation that Ernesto is going to make the purchase that will turn both Elle and I into millionaires.
Nevertheless, I can feel the heat of embarrassment creeping up my cheeks, and I shake my head in exasperation at all the women.
Elle squeezes me tighter, the wide grin on her face unfaltering as she coos, “Looove yooouu…”
It’s all part of the act, but somehow… it simultaneously causes my chest to expandandit fuckinghurts. Because the only other person who ever saysthatis Archer, and he only says it after I feed his fucking addiction.
So fuck it all.
I reach behind me to swipe the champagne out of Elle’s hand and then plant a kiss on her mouth that’s so deep it causes her to lean backward in my arm in a slight dip. She drapes her wrists around my neck, and more cackling explodes from the couch.
“Hey, at leastsomebody’sin love at this engagement party,” Joaquin hollers from the bar. He joins the laughter and offers another of his high-pitched whistles. “Why don’t you guys take that shit to the bedroom where it belongs?”
I lift Elle upright as I release her mouth and then give her a nudge toward the long hallway that leads to the stairs. “See you guysmañana.”
“You’re stealing the champagne!” Liliana whines from behind me.
