Like every night, Lisa comes down to the club early in the evening. This is not a normal night, though. Heart-shaped balloons float above each table, and red confetti have been strewn over the floor. In keeping with the theme - and to get the free drink advertised in the press - most of the patrons are wearing red.
Lisa is clad in white. White stilettos. White sheath dress. It’s not often she wears this color, but on Valentine’s Day it’s the best way to stand out on the dance floor.
She’s not ready to dance, though; not yet. The bar is busier than usual, but she finds her way to the front and catches Leo’s attention. He’s wearing black leather pants and a black shirt that has to be Brett’s. Pined at the breast like a boutonniere is a red rose, the bud barely open. Lisa knows who gave him the flower. There are a dozen just like it in a vase upstairs. As often as Lisa claims not to like this commercial ‘holiday,’ Brett just won’t listen.
“Wine?” Leo offers, already reaching for a glass.
She shakes her head. “Scotch. Two glasses.”
Leo’s eyebrows shoot up. He’s grinning as he fills two tumblers with a couple fingers each of golden, fragrant alcohol.
“He’s in his office,” he says.
Lisa rolls her eyes. “Of course he is. How long ‘til you can join us?”
He glances at the clock on the wall. “Back up is coming in half an hour. I could take a break then.”
She nods, then picks up the glasses and winks at him. “Half an hour. Don’t be late.”
After all, she thinks as she sashays toward Brett’s office, just because she thinks Valentine’s Day is stupid doesn’t mean Brett has to work all evening.