Page 92 of A Pizza My Heart

I hold back my laugh at the thought. Wren would never go for that. She’s way too independent to ask for any sort of help.

Maybe she wouldn’t have to know…

She flits her attention back to the wall of liquor.

“Let’s just say I’m real glad I picked a place with so many booze options.” She finally gets the bartender’s attention. “I’ll take two shots of Irish whiskey and a whiskey sour. Basically, give me all the whiskey, and then whatever this guy wants,” she tells him, pointing my way and sliding him her card to start a tab.

“I’ll, uh, I’ll just take an IPA.”

He nods and begins making our drinks.

“So, that good?” I say to her.

“That good.”

“Want to talk about it?”

“About as much as you want to talk about your divorce.”

“Fair enough.” I laugh and turn my back to the bar, taking my first real look at the club she’s dragged me to.

When we approached an all-black door with a simple gold sign that saidThe Lounge, I was apprehensive. She knocked three times and the door swung open to reveal a guy wearing suspenders and a fedora.

“Somethin’ stupid,” she whispered.

He grinned and waved us in, pushing open a door to an empty hallway.

“Okay, what the hell was that?” I asked when we were alone.

“The password.” She shrugged like it was obvious. “It can only be obtained by following their social media pages and deciphering a code.”

“Where exactly are you taking me?”

“You’ll see.”

She shoved open another dark oak door, and the music was the first thing I noticed. It’s that swing, jazz-type stuff…only with modern songs.

“I’m sorry, is that Drowning Pool’sBodiesthey’re playing?”

Laughing, she led me to the bar and promptly fist-bumped the bartender.

I scan the crowd. Based on the number of people in this place, their password marketing ploy is working for them.

Much like the music, the décor is the perfect blend of vintage and modern: dark wooden walls with booths covered in a deep red and long, exposed bulbs hanging from the ceilings with minimal art on the walls.

I can see why Wren loves it.

“How’d you find this place?”

The bartender slides Wren’s drinks her way then pops the top on my beer.

She thanks him then turns my way. “I didn’t. Drew did. I swear, that woman knows all the latest everything. Her hair is full of secrets.”

I laugh. “That wouldn’t surprise me. She tried to get some gossip out of me earlier, but I wouldn’t budge.”

“Did she ask if we banged?” Wren knocks back a shot, grimacing as the liquid burns its way down her throat. She shakes her head. “She’s exhausting, but I love her.”

“How’d you two meet?”

---