After a round of champagne and tequila shots for courage, the bravest among us filed down the sidewalk to the Dirty Snowball.
“What an awful name for a bar,” Angel said.
“I think it’s sort of charming,” Pearl mused.
The props master, who I’d learned went by Tall Ron, held the door for the whole group. “Well, it depends on what kind of dirty snowball you’re referring to.”
“There are different kinds of dirty snowballs?” Gretchen asked.
“Oh yeah,” Nolan and I said in unison.
“Multiple kinds,” Nolan added.
He looked to me with a knowing, half-cringing smile. Well, aren’t we just a couple of pervs.
“I’m pretty sure this place has no relation to the dirty snowball I’m thinking of,” Tall Ron said as the door shut behind him.
Gretchen’s smile turned into a disgusted frown like she might gag. “Trying my best not to yuck someone’s yum here, if you know what I mean, but, uh, I’m really not looking forward to searching for this online when I sit down. Have human beings always been such deviants?”
“You have no idea,” I said.
As we settled into the booths lining the back wall, easily doubling the population of the bar, I elbowed Nolan. “So are we going to get a one-man INK concert tonight?” I asked, the drinks from Kringle’s making me feel warm, fuzzy, and a little too fearless.
He smiled, catching his bottom lip between his teeth. “Karaoke is a spectator sport for me these days.”
A round of Jell-O shots, ordered by I didn’t even know who, landed on our table. Angel held one out for me to take, and then Pearl passed me another. I didn’t want to be rude, and liquid courage was the only thing that could get me on that stage in front of Nolan, so two Jell-O shots it was!
“Oh, come on!” Luca said as he looked up from the water-stained menu. “The satisfaction of an INK original Christmas song is the least you could do.”
“What does that even mean?” Nolan asked. “The least I could do?”
Luca sat up straight and pointed right at Nolan. “When you robbed Emily Albright of her gold medal at the Duluth Olympics, not only were her dreams shattered but so were mine and those of a whole generation of figure skating fans. Team Emily Albright forever and ever, amen. So yes, the least you could do is sing one of your ridiculous Christmas songs for me.”
Nolan thought for a moment before rising to the challenge. “I’m not going to argue with you over the Duluth Olympics, because trust me, I could. But I am going to make you an offer. If I get up there and sing a song from theMerry INKmasholiday album, you’ll help me with my costumes.”
Luca narrowed his gaze. “I’ll do any future costume alterations for you.”
“Or... you could have just been doing that the whole time since it’s your job,” Nolan said firmly, while somehow managing not to sound like an asshole.
“Fine. I’ll do your alterations and I’ll be nice . . .ishto you.”
Nolan shook his head but held out a hand to shake. “You’ve got a deal.”
Luca hesitated. “And I get to choose the song.”
“Done.” Nolan stood and walked dutifully to the bar, where he signed up. Luca followed, making his song selection, and they both returned with another round of shots.
“More Jell-O shots?” I asked as Luca set the tray down.
“Not for me,” Nolan said. “I am too-old-for-Jell-O-shots years old.”
Luca handed me two shots. “Bee will take yours.”
“Y’all have to stop feeding me boozy Jell-O,” I whined.
“Was that a ‘y’all’ I just heard?” Nolan asked.
“That’s how you know she’s drunk,” Luca explained.
