Jack’s hand is loose on my back, his mouth close to my ear. “Here we go. Smile up at me like I’ve just said something funny.”
I throw my head back and laugh.
His arm tightens. “Too much.”
Jack must doubt my acting ability because he stops at a small table towering with champagne glasses and holds one out to me.
“I don’t drink,” I say, refusing his offering.
“I thought you said you’d do anything for fifteen hundred dollars. Or was that all talk?” When I still don’t move, he lets out a sigh that only I can hear. “You don’t have to drink it, but it puts people more at ease if it looks like you are.”
By the time we make it over to where Jack’s father is waiting, I’m glad for the drink. It gives my hands something to do.
Mr. Sanchez smiles when he sees us. His back is against a wall, dr
