The doors slide closed and the car shoots upward. I slide my eyes sideways and wait for him to meet them. After a few seconds he does.

“Just so you know,” I say, “I am so turned on right now.”

His lip turns up. “Keep it in your pants, James, this is a business party.”

I’m smiling my ass off when the doors open.

There’s around thirty other people up here, chatting and drinking and being merry under the fairy lights strung over us all like a canopy of well-placed fireflies. Music slides among the guests, low enough that everyone can hear themselves talking, but loud enough that I can hear the song. Something soothing and calm that I don’t recognize.

I look to Z for direction. “What shall we do first? Go meet your people? Mingle? Eat? I see food over there. Or drink, I see a bar.”

“What would you like to do?”

I put my arm through his. “I would like to eat food and meet the people you work with. You need to network at these things, Zarar, not just hang out with me. Are they playing music the company produces?”

Zarar nods. “Yes, this is all from our artist list.”

I nod approvingly. “So cool.”

At the food table I load up on hummus dip, cucumbers, and sliders. The two of us huddle at a tiny standing table near the edge of the roof.

“So what is this for?” I ask as I stuff a hummus cucumber into my mouth.

“It’s the company’s anniversary; they hold a yearly rooftop party to celebrate. This is their ninth year in business, I think.”

“Hey, Zarar, you made it,” comes a warm voice behind me.

“Hey, Mr. Penn,” Zarar greets politely. I spin around to find an attractive white dude in a plaid shirt and jeans, severely lacking any of the stylish ease of Zarar. This guy can’t be the boss.

“Man, come on, we’re on a first-name basis. We go way back, and I’m barely older than you,” the guy replies.

“You’re seven years older than me, Mr. Penn.”

“Is this your boss?” I point to the guy and look at Zarar.

The guy looks at me. God, his eyes are freakishly sincere.

“I’m not his boss. I’m the guy he’s working with.”

“The guy that used to be in a band with his brother?” I ask. Oof. Something about the dude is familiar.

“That’s the one,” he confirms with a head bob.

“He’s my boss,” Zarar says through the side of his mouth with his equivalent of a smile.

I turn my smirk back on his boss. “How’s he doing?” I point my thumb back at Z.

“Oh my gosh, Zarar!” A blond woman with wild curls appears next to Mr. Penn. “Nice to meet you! I’ve heard you’re already doing such an amazing job.”