“You’ve definitely made a name for yourselves,” Damon’s brother said with an approachable smile.
Zain waved away the compliment, but looked like he was ready to burst with pride.
“I’m going to get us some drinks.” I slipped out of his grip and left him to talk. I knew he was probably flipping out inside, and I wanted to give him the time to enjoy this moment.
I found a server holding a platter with flutes of Champagne.
“Excuse me,” I asked. “Do you have anything non-alcoholic?”
The server deftly spun the platter around, plucked up one glass and held it out to me.
“Here you are, miss,” he said.
“Thank you,” I said. “I wasn’t sure. This is a rock star event, after all. I imagine there’s more requests for the other kind of drinks.”
“Every platter had at least a few of these,” he reassured me. “The glasses with the red band around the stem are non-alcoholic.”
“Non-alcoholic Champagne?” a voice said. “Who the hell came up with that awful idea?”
A handsome man with sandy blond hair and blue eyes came up behind me and swiped a full glass, exchanging it for the empty one in his hand.
“Don’t have anything stronger, huh?” Sandy-blond asked the server.
“No, I’m afraid not,” the server replied regretfully. “After what happened last time, the event management company thought it might be prudent to, ah, limit the selection,” he finished diplomatically.
“They didn’t want us doing belly shots, right?” Sandy-blond snorted.
The server’s lips twitched, as if hiding a smile. “Yes, I have to assume so, sir.”
“Shit, don’t call me sir,” Sandy-blond groaned. “It’s too weird.”
“Very well, Mr. Finnley,” the server responded.
Sandy-blond grimaced, not liking the sound of that either. I realized Mr. Finnley meant this was Finn, the bassist in Zain’s band. I now recognized him as the one who had fallen into the glass table and hurt himself.
“Although Champagne is the only drink being circulated,” the server added, “there are some other alcoholic beverages underneath the bar.”
“That’s what I’m talking about.” Finn lifted his hand for a fist bump with the server, but the man had already turned away to offer a flute to a couple a few feet away from us. “He left me hanging,” Finn griped, then shrugged, the slight already forgotten. “Now, where’s the bar?”
He looked around, but the crowd was too full to see much. His gaze landed on a piece of art, a large sculpture/statue thing that could have been mistaken for a piece of equipment on a children’s playground.
His eyes lit up.
I got a sinking feeling in my stomach.
Sure enough, he grabbed hold of the sculpture with one hand and began climbing.
“Wait!” I put a hand out to stop him, but hesitated. It wasn’t really my place to pull this guy down from there. He was an adult. He could make an ass of himself if he wanted. But Kaylee had said the art in this place was priceless.
Finn continued climbing as I fretted from down below. People nearby began pointing and whispering as they all spotted him. He planted a foot on the top of the sculpture, and peered out over the crowd. Somehow, he’d managed to keep the glass of Champagne in his hand.
I looked around for a familiar face, trying to spot Zain or Kaylee, someone who could convince the guy to get down from there before he fell and broke his neck.
To my horror, the sculpture began to sway dangerously, rocking from one side to the other under his weight. My hands flew to my mouth as he stumbled, almost losing his balance.
“Watch out!” I called.
He looked down at me curiously, then began his not-so-careful descent. He hopped the last few feet, landing heavily on the hardwood floor.
