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FEMME FATALE

I check my watch for the umpteenth time. It is 10:45 pm on a Friday night, I am crashing a birthday party at some nondescript joint along Waiyaki Way. Worst decision ever. The DJ is playing reggae non-stop and every reveler except me seems to know lyrics to all the tunes by heart. If that isn’t bad enough the party is a total sausage fest.

As if on cue my phone rings. Josh Calling. Now Josh is a coworker who does two things with uttermost perfection. Close business deals and party like a rockstar. Whenever he calls I’m absolutely certain it’s going to be a dramatic night.

I move to the balcony.