“Is there anything that makes you less of a smartass?” he asked, his eyes all over my face. “Shots of tequila, but that doesn’t seem like a good move on jewelry night.” He was quiet for a second before asking, “How do you hold your liquor, Mariano?” “Very well, Powell.” “Then let’s do a shot and try to sweeten you up before the event.” I raised an eyebrow. “If you’re shooting for sweet, you better make it two.”
