“Well, now who’s a shark?” Lauren asked, as Carly tossed her hands in the air and held them there. The room broke into applause, and that’s when Carly realized that the crowd had nearly tripled in size, and all eyes were on her…in addition to five or six cell phones. That meant someone had likely tweeted or Instagrammed her location. It happened often, actually. She smiled and nodded to their onlookers as she passed by to retrieve her drink. She remained hyperaware of Lauren’s location in the room, however. She sipped slowly, posed for a few photos, signed the back of a guy’s jean jacket, and watched as Lauren seemed to grow more and more unsteady. Carly got the feeling that she didn’t go out much, and maybe the night had gotten away from her. She was using the backs of chairs to maneuver the space, and that was Carly’s signal to check in and make sure she was okay.

She touched Lauren’s shoulder. “Hey, you. Are you a little drunk right now? Because you’re looking a little unsteady.”

“No,” Lauren shouted over the music and grinned. Totally was.

“Okay,” Carly said with what was probably a disbelieving smile.

“I’m a lot drunk right now.” She followed that up with the most adorable laugh. “I need to get an Uber so I can…” She trailed off the way drunk people sometimes do and instead stared glassy-eyed at the grooves on the tall wooden table next to them.

“Tell you what. Why don’t I take you home?”

Lauren blinked and raised a drunk eyebrow. “I’m not going home with you. You’re not going home with me, I mean. Not that kind of thing. You’re an actress, ma’am, and I haven’t forgotten.”

“And you’re a stage manager. Ma’am,” she added for good measure. “We have our jobs all sorted out, so let’s get you home safe. I’m in good shape.”

“Okay,” Lauren said, her eyes now looking heavy. “Listen, I’m in no condition to argue, even though we probably would argue real, real good.”

“Real, real?” Carly couldn’t help but wonder if argue was a euphemism. She decided it was. “I have a feeling you’re right.”

Six minutes later, they were in an Uber on the way to Lauren’s, where Carly would get her situated, then do the gentlewomanly thing and head back to the apartment the theater had rented for her.

“We have arrived,” Lauren said. She stumbled out of the car. “I wonder if Rocky can make me another martini.”

“Oh.” A long pause. “Rocky is your…boyfriend?” Carly closed one eye as she awaited that little piece of unfortunate news. She imagined a muscle-bound ex-football player appearing on the front porch any moment, looking for his girlfriend. If sexy Lauren was taken, who was she going to have fun with while she was here?