have a lot to celebrate, too. Don't be such a party pooper."
Jack sighed. He always had trouble telling her no. "Only if he's going."
They found Earl not far from the dais, as though he'd made the effort but hadn't been able to break loose from the lingering throngs wanting to talk to him.
"So what's the report from the home front?" Earl asked. He smiled at Jenny.
"Don't tell me you haven't spoken to anyone yet?" Jack eyed his boss warily.
"Yes, I've spoken to some of them, but I want to know what they're saying when I'm not there."
"It's all good, Earl, don't worry," Jack said.
"Actually," Jenny piped up, "their biggest concern is who's going to succeed you."
"Really?"
Jack knew exactly where she was heading. He carefully moved closer to her, not wanting Earl to notice, and stepped on her toe. She let out a little "ouch" and glared at him. Earl looked at her curiously.
"Just the typical talk, Earl," Jack said, trying to pretend he didn't know what Jenny's problem was. "They're wondering about their future, that's all. We came over"—he looked at Jenny—"to see if you're joining the group downstairs."
"Yeah, I'll be down as soon as I can break away. You guys go on ahead."
The club was already jammed. The Thursday night happy hour crowd had hung around even after the price of the drinks had gone up, and now lawyers from the banquet upstairs had joined them, too. The music, some sort of '70s disco, was louder than it needed to be, and Jack wasn't sure he was in the mood to put up with it. He trailed reluctantly after Jenny, who'd worked her way through the mass of bodies to reach the bar. When the bartender turned his back to fix her drink, Jack laid into her.
"Jenny, what are you doing? You need to slow down."
"I'm thirsty." She tapped her fingers on the bar to the beat. She wouldn't look at him.
"So have a glass of water."
"Screw you, Jack. Can't I have a little fun? It's been a long time since I've had some fun. It's all work, work, work."
But Jack suspected work wasn't what she was talking about. He assumed she referred to her ex-boyfriend. Alex Turner was an adjunct professor from the university where Claire worked; Jenny had met him years before at a summer party in Jack's backyard. After living with Alex for several years, she had recently left him.
"You're going to catch a cab home, then," Jack said. "You're not driving."
"Fine." She reached into the side pocket of her skirt and pulled out money to pay for her drink. "Anything. Just leave me alone about the drinking."
Just then Earl came down, and Jack was relieved when Jenny found a lawyer from her firm to dance with, leaving him alone to shout over the music to some of the other prosecutors who had joined them. Earl didn't stay long, though; it was clear he was merely putting in an appearance for the sake of his loyal subordinates.
The dance floor eventually thinned out, and Jack spied Jenny each time she made a trip to the other side of the bar. He smiled to himself; she probably thought she was being inconspicuous. But he knew she was keeping an eye on him, too, because when all the lawyers he'd been talking to finally left, she reappeared at his side.
"Dance with me." She grabbed his hand and tried to pull him onto the dance floor.
"You're spilling your drink." He reached for the glass in her other hand and took it away.
"Come on," she begged. "Let's have some fun. I just wanna dance."
"I'm not a good dancer, Jen," he protested. "I step on toes."
She lifted her arms above her head and swung her hips to the beat of the music. Her eyes were closed and he knew she wasn't listening to him; the music had completely absorbed her. He watched her dance, a little embarrassed by her drunken display but drawn to it nevertheless. The camisole under her jacket had come untucked when she'd raised her arms, and he could see her flat stomach. Her hair, that luminous black hair that held such a tactile attraction for him, oscillated in