luck for the night - rl.

2. is he wearing anything under that skirt?

"So you know what to do right?" Mel asked me, running her hands through her black hair, something she always did when she was nervous.

"Whenever they ask about Nora, I distract them. And when you start talking about your mother, you want to go home." I recited as we walked into the elevator of a high office building. I had been confused as to why a small marketing firm would have an office in this part of the city, but Mel had explained that we were going to the headquarters of a company they partnered with, some management company with so much money they had a whole room dedicated to events just like this in the tall, glass-wrapped building.

As the doors closed, Mel wrapped her arms around me, a deep sigh leaving her lungs. "Thank you, Ry. I really don't know if I'm going to survive this night without you."

Upon arriving on the thirty-first floor, the buzz of the party lead us through a long, dimly lit hallway with glass doors to offices on both sides.

"This is fancy," I said, "almost makes me wish I had chosen another profession. Can you see me walking around here in a pantsuit, heels clicking on the floor? I'd be a damn good asset to their legal department." I scrunched up my face.

Amelia rolled her eyes, the corners of her mouth quirking upwards. "You have watched too much Suits, lately. I think you would bore yourself to death practising law."

"Better Call Saul," I corrected "I'm just channelling my inner Kim Wexler." I upped my pace, pretending to hold a bunch of documents. "Now I'm just waiting for my Jimmy McGill," I dramatically turned around.

My best friend grinned. "Although I sure hope your Jimmy McGill doesn't look like Bob Odenkirk."

Laughing, we entered the open door at the end of the hallway. We were greeted by a security guard holding a clipboard. "Name?"

"Amelia Yáo."

The tall, broad man looked over the list on the clipboard. "All right, and this must be your plus one, Nora Neumann?"

I saw the shudder of pain going through my best friend's body. "Actually, I'm Rylin Weaver. There were some last-minute changes, so Nora couldn't attend."

The man nodded, "Then I do need to see some ID, young lady."

"Of course," I dug my ID card out of my bag, and as I was doing so, a few chords struck on an electric guitar echoed through the room.

As I handed the card to the guard, I looked around, confused. It seemed like your perfect average conference hall. To the left, there was a small wardrobe, and right across from the entrance was a big bar, decked with every alcoholic drink one would want. The chairs were moved to the side for this occasion, lining the walls of the room. Instead, there were some high tables positioned throughout the space. As a night event ought, the whole room was dimly lit.

The only off thing was the stage, all the way in the back of the room. Now, a stage in a conference hall is not that unusual, but the drum kit, guitars, microphone and bunch of professional-looking lights were.

I nudged Mel with my elbow, trying to tell her with my face that I did not understand what was going on. She shrugged at me with the same confusion in her eyes.

"Well, that's all good," The guard interrupted, stepping to the side to let us pass, "have fun, ladies."

"You didn't tell me we were going to a concert?" I gestured to the stage.

"Oooh." Amelia started to smile. "I thought I told you?"

"You definitely didn't."

"The company we worked with for this assignment is a music management firm. This time, we designed the marketing behind the tour of one of their clients: a rock band. As a thank you, they threw this party. And as they said about twenty times in the e-mail: 'It can't be a real party without music!' So they invited the band from the tour we marketed."