This meant that, despite the fact that Alicia, Carmen, Jamie, and even Gaz were dressed to the nines in their favorite outfits, they were still having trouble getting inside. “Join the line, my friends,” said a tall guy who looked not unlike an FBI agent in his dark gray pinstriped suit. It was only the fact that he wore sunglasses at night that gave away his role as one of Miami’s glitterati enforcers. “This sucks,” Alicia said, walking away from the crowd with her friends. “Where are Binky and Dash?” Carmen asked, looking around. “Maybe we should go somewhere else,” suggested Gaz. “Or maybe we should just all go home,” Jamie said. “Who wants to spend good money to watch a bunch of rich prep-school kids turn a fierce merengue into a chicken dance.” “Let’s not give up yet,” Alicia said. “This could be a lot of fun. And not everyone in there is going to be preppy and ruining your vision of Latino life. Let’s try this again.” The members of Amigas Inc.—most especially Alicia—were not used to being turned away at any velvet rope.
