Someone was now pounding on the door.

Chapter 3

Marty reached back and shut off the music as I stood and straightened my cocktail dress. He gave me an odd look and scooted to the bedroom. I realized he was doing it for my benefit so no one would ask any embarrassing questions.

A smile crept across my face as I slowly stepped toward the door, giving Marty time to disappear into the rear of the apartment.

I carefully opened the door a crack, to see my friend Allie’s face. I could tell something was wrong.

“What’s up, Allie?” I said, without slurring any words. The pride had to be written across my face.

She kept her voice low but said, “My God, Christy, you may want to keep it down a little bit with your new friend. We had complaints from downstairs, as well as people on either side of your room. It sounds like a South Beach nightclub in here.” Her slight Serbian accent made it a bit hard to understand her.

“What are they gonna do? Call the cops?”

Her smile told me not much was going to happen.

The old me would’ve been unbelievably embarrassed; instead, there was something liberating about showing off how much fun I was having. After Allie left, but before I could slip back to tell Marty, there was another knock at the door. I thought Allie had come back.

This time I flung the door open to scare my friend, but then I saw that it was two uniformed Palm Beach cops. I recognized one of them from around town. A typical buff, tan, friendly Palm Beach cop.

He said, “Allie told us she spoke to you, but we have to follow up because someone called us directly and made a complaint.”

I used a serious tone even though I wanted to laugh. All I said was “I understand.”

“Do you?”

“No more loud music.”

The tall cop sighed and said, “We’ve got enough to do.”

“Do you? Do you really?” I couldn’t help myself.

The cop smiled and shrugged. “Maybe not, but keep it down anyway.”

He could’ve been a jerk, but luckily, Palm Beach cops are known for being polite to residents, and at least for now I was still considered a Palm Beacher.

I headed back to the bedroom and found Marty looking sober and ready to flee.

“What’s up? You’re not leaving, are you?”

“I heard the cops. I wasn’t sure what was going to happen.”

“It was nothing. Just a complaint about the noise. You don’t have a problem with cops, do you?”

“Cops and I have a great understanding; I don’t bother them and they don’t bother me. It works out for us all. Especially in a place like this, where they wouldn’t like my West Palm Beach address.”

I wasn’t sure what he was talking about. “Paranoid much?”

When he didn’t seem to get it, I gave him a smile and said, “It’s fine. I don’t need loud music to prove I’m having a good time.”