Chapter 67
STEPHANIE
“Would you look at that?” Tiana said, casting an appreciative eye over Jeremiah and his friends. “You managed to get us seats with the hottest guys in here. And Tanner.”
I laughed. Tiana and Tanner knew each other from college. They’d been friends for a while when they took the same class. Though they hit it off, they never got together.
“I keep forgetting you know him.”
She linked her arm with mine, grinning devilishly. “I wish I could forget I know him too, but who can forget a guy who looks like that?”
“Not you?” I guessed.
Tiana tapped her nose and nodded. It was difficult to talk more until we made it back to the table. Lucky’s was reaching capacity, and there were people everywhere.
You had to duck for cover to avoid all the animated gestures being made by people talking with their hands and dodge like a pro to keep from being trampled by the busy waitresses and the thirsty patrons.
The flat-screens on the walls were tuned to sports, but the volume was muted. The jukebox was on, playing hits all the way from the eighties to brand new ones. It was an indication of how diverse the crowd who frequented Lucky’s was.
When we made it to the table, it looked like the guys were in a serious conversation. Jeremiah’s lips were pulled up into a cocky, charming smirk of his I’d come to love while the other three were looking at him with varying degrees of shock, pride, and disbelief.
Tiana lifted her brow at me in question, but I shrugged. I had no idea what they were talking about. “It’s probably work stuff. Bart and Shawn might be interested in joining the company.”
Her eyes widened. “You’d be working with three of those beautiful creatures every day? Please hire me.”
I laughed, then pulled Tiana the last few feet to the table. Bart spotted us first and slid his eyes pointedly in our direction. The others stopped talking immediately. Weird.
Deciding I would find out from Jeremiah what they were talking about later, I pointed at Bart first. “Tiana, this is Bart. Bart, my friend Tiana. I hope you don’t mind that I invited her along with us tonight too, I know I’m already crashing boys’ night.”
Shawn rose and held out his hand, standing crookedly from not being able to straighten up completely for being too tall for the booth. “You’re welcome to bring your friend along anytime. I’m Shawn.”
I realized I hadn’t warned Tiana that one of Jeremiah’s besties was a model I knew she would recognize. He was the face of her favorite brand of jeans. She shook his hand, looking vaguely starstruck. “Tiana. It’s so nice to meet you.”
“If I scoot up, you could sit next to me,” Shawn offered, then noticed Bart’s frown and Tanner’s shit-eating grin. He ground his teeth before smiling at her. “That way you’ll be across from Steph, you guys could talk.”
“Sure,” she said. “Thanks.”
Tiana was hardly in her seat when I realized I wasn’t part of the equation for the offer Shawn made or for her acceptance of it. The two of them instantly started talking, striking up an animated conversation.
I only caught snippets of it, but they were totally wrapped up in their conversation and were laughing and talking like they were the only ones in the room.
We finished the bottle of champagne Shawn ordered in record time. Jeremiah ordered another one, refilling everyone’s glasses when it arrived. Bart ignored Shawn and Tiana on his one side, leaning in to speak to us instead. He grinned at me, letting me know trouble was on the way.
“So, you sure you really want to open a company with this one?” He jerked his head to Jeremiah. “He’s a tyrant to work with, I’ve heard.”
“You’re thinking of the wrong Williams.” I laughed as I hooked my arm around Jeremiah’s shoulders. “This one’s not a tyrant, but he can be pretty demanding.”
“I won’t be making those kinds of demands on Bart,” Jeremiah quipped.
Bart and Tanner cringed boyishly and voted that Jeremiah had to do a shot for giving them a mental picture of him they didn’t want.
Being a good sport, he dutifully ordered a shot for himself and one for each of them. Then chugged his tequila and handed out a “fine” to both of his friends for transgressions they’d apparently committed in the week.
Tanner slammed his shot and tapped it on the table, turning his attention to me. “Since you’re part of our merry band of misfits now, has anyone explained how the fines work to you yet?”
“No.” I eyed the three empty shot glasses apprehensively. My tolerance for the stuff had reduced drastically since I started taking college seriously. “Is there a limit for how many fines a person can be given in one night?”
If this was some kind of drinking game, I needed to know that first. Without a limit and with how often I tended to put my foot in my mouth, I was going to have to opt out of their game.