“Right, lots to choose from.” James sat on one of the stools opposite me, an amused smile on his lips. Perhaps he thought I was cute, playing bartender.

“Lady’s choice,” he said.

I only knew how to make a couple of cocktails and, of course, I could make a mean gin and tonic, but I’d need limes for that. I looked under the bar. There were limes—a bowl of them, plus a sharp knife and a cutting board. They really did think of everything when you had the penthouse. But it took only a moment to decide that a gin and tonic was a bad idea—too, well, too Josh.

“Right,” I said. “I’ll make a Nineteen Dollars Off.”

He laughed. “Is that a cocktail?”

“Yes,” I said, a slightly defensive edge in my voice. “Cat and I made it up the last time I was in London. Well, not the last, last time, but the time before that. Although in London it’s called a ‘Nine Pounds Off’.”

“Of course it is.” He was playing along, even though I was sure he had no idea what I was talking about.

“It got the name, because if you bought it at a bar, it would cost twenty-five dollars or in the UK, around twelve pounds. But if you make it at home, it’s a lot cheaper.”

“Ahhh,” said the wealthy man. I felt a bit daft, realising I should have made up another name for the cocktail, so I moved the proceedings along.

“Anyway, it’s got tequila in it. Do you like tequila?”

“Love tequila.”

“Good!” I got to work. I sliced up two limes and squeezed them into the cocktail shaker. I added three shots of tequila. It was Jose Cuervo Reserva De La Familia, which was a huge step up from the Cuervo Cat and I had used when we created the cocktail. This one was probably meant for sipping not mixing, but desperate times and all that. Next was a shot of Cointreau. Then I remembered the drink had grapefruit juice in it. Crap.

Grapefruit juice is not your usual mixer, but I checked the little fridge just in case. No grapefruit, but they did have unsweetened orange juice—no pulp. It would have to do. I added a generous glug, about six shots worth, then added ice and started shaking. I threw in some flourishes to amuse James, who broke into a wide smile, but I avoided throwing anything into the air. As an amateur, I knew my limitations.

I took two martini glasses down from the shelf behind me and decanted the drinks. Then I popped a can of soda water, topping up each drink with a little fizz. I sliced up a third lime, squeezed in some more juice and added a slice to the rim of each drink. Feel free to write that down, by the way—it’s an excellent cocktail.

“Voila!” I pushed one of the glasses over to his side of the bar. “The Nineteen Dollars Off.”