Their place, 10 p.m. Festive Attire.” Antonio Sanchez leaned against the wall of the elevator and reread the colorful party invitation in his hand. He wasn’t quite sure what the hell festive attire was, but the vision of people wrapped in Christmas tree garland crossed his mind. He glanced down at his black dress pants and the red button-down shirt beneath his black leather jacket. He was a firefighter, not a dancer in Vegas. This was about as festive as his attire got. It would just have to do. He shook his head. This time last year, his best friend Troy wouldn’t have used the word festive even if you tied him up and shoved bamboo shoots under his fingernails. In fact, this time last year, before Troy met Amy, the only invitation for this party would have been a handwritten note on the back of a take-out menu tacked on the bulletin board at the firehouse. And attire for one of Troy’s parties would have been your cleanest jeans and a Ladder Co. #3 sweatshirt. Boy, had things changed since then.
