Taryn and Vicky decided to meet at the bar of the Mansion early for a pre-celebratory cocktail. When Taryn arrived, Vicky sat perched on the edge of her bar stool, chatting up the bartender and a dapper older gentleman. Her melodic laughter alerted Taryn to her presence even before Taryn saw her.
“You hush. It’s not that bad,” Taryn heard Vicky say as she walked up. The other patron at the bar motioned to the bartender and then turned toward Taryn.
“What’s your lovely friend drinking, darlin’?”
“She loves champagne, don’t you, Taryn?”
“I do, but I thought we’d wait to toast until the guys get here. So maybe a cosmo to start.”
“You heard, the lady,” the man barked amiably to the bartender before returning his attention to Taryn. “I’m Harrick Donovan. And you are?”
She shook his hand. “Taryn Lieber. You don’t have to buy our drinks.”
“Nonsense. A lady never pours her own drink or pays,” Harrick declared.
“I’ve done so much of both. You’re making me start to wonder.”
Harrick found this funny and let out an immense guffaw.
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