“Half a block from the beach, the bar filled part of the basement of a trendy hotel in Santa Monica. Already the after-work crowd was starting to gather, people knotted in groups inside the darkened interior, standing room only, the noise of conversation escalating. “Hey, I thought you were going to ditch me!” Holly accused as she spied Cassie wending her way through the tightly spaced bistro tables packed between a wall of booths and a long, glass-topped bar. “I would have called or texted if I... wasn’t going to show,” Cassie said. She eyed the table. A tiny copper-colored mug with a slice of lime perched on the rim sat on the table in front of the only empty seat. Obviously the drink was intended for her. “A Moscow Mule,” Holly said, licking a bit of mint from her upper lip. Petite, with her hair spiked on end, the current color being jet black, she waved Cassie into her seat. Her makeup was perfect, full lips glossy, skin smooth, eye shadow glittering a bit. Holly had an impish charm about her and had, she’d admitted, played the character of Tinkerbell more times than she wanted to admit.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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