“Hey, Jules. I’ve got your drink.” Berk broke the uncomfortable staring match I’d been roped into. He expertly handled the two champagne glasses even with one hand taken by the garment bag, and handed me my drink. “I’m Berk.” He shoved his hand right in front of Chet’s face. Chet turned to my rescuer and his eyes widened. “Can I help you?” “Sure, you can let go of Jules. My date.” “Jules?! Her name is Julia,” Chet snapped. “My mistake, I just go with what I call her in bed at night.” The bubbles from my glass of bubbly shot straight out my nose. I’m talking full on spray tan coverage of Chet.
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