"Strawberry martinis are for the very bad," she decided, sounding artificially innocent, and she grinned up at Ed. "Something sweet, in case my wickedness can be cured..." She was slathering on the flirtatiousness, but unlike Jean Georges, Firebird was the place for such a show. More eyes on them now, and unlike before, the crowd was covetous. Who wouldn't want to be them: rich and attractive and amusing?
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