On the girls, I saw a lot of skin – long legs, bare arms, and barely concealed boobs and butts. On the guys, I saw the usual stuff – flashy clothes and flashier smiles. They were drinking, dancing, yelling, and posing – sometimes for selfies and sometimes, because, well, that's just what they did.
Funny, I actually knew all these people. How many were here? Fifty? A hundred? More? I didn't know, and I was several birthday-shots past caring.
I'd been drinking and dancing with the rest of them, and was due for a cool-down. Outside seemed the best bet, given the temperature, which had been dropping all day.
With a cold beer in-hand, I slipped out a side door and made my way to the back of the house, where I spotted Bishop, lounging with his back against the brick exterior.
He turned, watching as I moved to join him. With a wry smile, he flicked his head toward a nearby window, where I spotted two girls – I couldn't recall their names – gyrating against the window panes. They were holding twin glasses of some girly-girl drink, with paper umbrellas and fruity garnishes.
As they moved, their beverages splashed over the sides, sending cherry-colored liquid onto the nearby white curtains. One of the girls stumbled sideways, laughing as she grabbed the nearest curtain to steady herself. I heard a crash as the curtain-rod came loose, followed by the sounds of glass shattering when the girl and her glass hit the floor.
A second later, the girl stood, laughing her ass off. She wrapped the curtain around her shoulders and held up both arms as if she'd just completed an Olympic-level dismount.
From somewhere across the room, I heard a male voice bellow out, "Toga! Toga!"
"It's not a toga!" she slurred, wading into the mess of bodies. "It's my new birthday suit! Wanna see?"
Whatever the guy said next was drowned out by the sounds of music cranking up to ear-splitting levels. The windows rattled as the bass thumped. From somewhere inside, I heard a squeal of laughter and another crash.
I took a swig from my beer and glanced at Bishop.
"Don’t look at me," he said. "This wasn'tmyidea."
He was right. It was Amber's. Turns out, her so-called peace offering was a big-ass birthday bash, complete with D.J., food, drinks, the works. The only thing she hadn't thought of were drivers, which I supplied on my own through a local startup run by a couple of college kids.
As for the mess, I'd seen worse. Besides, that's why I had a cleaning service, right? And if something got damaged? Not a big deal. It was just stuff.
I looked to Bishop. "The party? Who says I don't like it?"
He shrugged. "Eh, keep telling yourself that. Anyway, the real fun's out here."
"Why?" I looked around and saw only darkness. "What's out here?"
"Crashers." He grinned. "Just caught two at the back gate."
The narrow one out back? It was locked. I'd checked it personally. "No shit?" I said. "Who were they?"
"A couple of guys. Claimed they knew someone inside."
"Did they?" I asked.
"Maybe. I still sent them packing."
I had to laugh. "Why?"
"Because they weren't on the list."
I took another swig of beer. Like the others before it, it was going way too fast. "There's a list?"
"Something like that."
Knowing Amber, therewasa list. She was big into that sort of thing. ButIhadn't seen any list. It would be just like Bishop to make sure he had a copy.
"Get this," Bishop continued. "They were trying to pick the lock. With what? A coat-hanger." He gave a sad shake of his head. "Amateurs." He pointed through the trees. "And I caught three girls over there, trying to hop the fence."
The fence was tenfeet high, with sharp spires all along the top. It wasn't exactly razor wire, but it was close enough.
"Yeah?" I said. "How?"
