“OK, a little birdie told me that you needed some clothes for the party.” The manager was smirking at the bartender, wiggling her eyebrows suggestively.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, Elizabeth.”

“Tall, dark, handsome, black hair?”

“No, I got to the ‘birdie’ part. But what’s up with clothes?”

“It’s the opening of an art gallery. You gotta fit in.”

“How fancy are we ...