Apparently, the legal drinking age is more of a suggestion here than an actual requirement. Embarrassment slams into me as I think of all the people outside, watching Maria yell because the bouncer didn’t fall for my fake ID. I’m not surprised. I don’t look a thing like Angie’s sister. I was two seconds away from dipping into the closest cab and bolting, but then a blond man in a fitted suit walked out and whispered in the doorman’s ear. Next thing you know, we were led to a VIP area.
