Adriana
GIBBY’S WAS JAM-PACKED when we walked in. Apparently, it was Ladies Night, and all shots were half-off.
“Let’s dance and then drink,” said Tiffany, pulling me and Jeremy toward the large dance floor, while Monica and Amber used the bathroom. He’d left his jacket and tie in the car and now looked more like a regular guy just out to have fun. “Do you like Hip Hop music, Jeremy?” she cried, over the loud music.
“Not really,” he hollered back. “But, I’m willing to try.”
“What kind of music do you like?” I asked.
“Rock-n-Roll. Jazz. Country. Anything but… Hip Hop.”
“That’s too bad,” said Tiffany, rolling her hips with the music. “Because I love Hip Hop. It makes me so… frisky.”
His eyes widened and then he laughed. “Maybe I haven’t given Hip Hop enough of a chance.”
She moved cl
