As the night reached its golden hour, with music humming and glasses endlessly refilled, Jake caught Skip’s eye across the patio. A silent nod passed between them, the kind of signal only good friends share.
Skip tapped a spoon against his champagne flute, the bright chime cutting through the laughter and chatter. “Ladies and gentlemen,” he called, his voice carrying with an easy confidence, “if we could have your attention for just a moment…”
From the crowd, a voice rang out with perfect timing: Rest assured young man, you’ve had our attention since we walked in the door!”
Laughter rippled through the patio, glasses lifted in mock salute, and more than a few heads nodded in agreement.
Jake grinned, waiting for the laughter to settle. “Well then, since we already have it, we’d like to use this moment to recognize two very special people tonight—our hosts, Martin and Daniel.”
“Twenty five years together,” Skip added, raising his glass with a wide smile. “Twenty five years of building a life, a home, and a circle of friends that’s clearly the best in Palm Springs. I mean… look around.” He swept his arm to the crowd, drawing another round of cheers.
Jake leaned in, voice warm. “To Martin and Daniel—your love, your style, and your generosity set the bar for us all. Here’s to many more years, many more parties, and many more nights like this.”
“Cheers!” both boys called in unison, raising their glasses high.
The crowd erupted in applause and clinking of crystal, the sound echoing under the desert night sky. Martin and Daniel stood arm in arm, visibly touched, as guests swarmed them with hugs and congratulations.
And just like that, Jake and Skip weren’t just hired hosts anymore—they were part of the celebration’s beating heart.
The cheers from the toast were still echoing when a low murmur began to ripple through the crowd. At first, it was just a few voices, then more joined in, until the whole patio seemed to be chanting under their breath, rhythmically, teasingly:
“Cotton tails… cotton tails… cotton tails…”
Jake and Skip glanced at one another, baffled and amused. The chant grew louder, playful, coaxing, until Martin finally raised his hand with a smile, quieting the crowd. Daniel stepped forward, his voice carrying smoothly over the hum of anticipation.
“Boys,” he said warmly, “there’s a little Palm Springs tradition you may not be aware of.” He paused, letting the crowd chuckle knowingly. “When our guests are especially fond of their hosts… there’s an invitation. If you’re willing.”
Skip raised an eyebrow, grinning. “Willing to do what exactly?”
Martin leaned in, his tone both conspiratorial and celebratory. “We’ll play some music. You’ll be invited to dance your way through the guests—give them a show. If they’re so inclined, the guests may tip you. And… if, at the end of the performance, you’re asked for something more…” He let the words hang, glancing between them. “…well, that’s entirely up to you.”
The crowd gave a cheer of approval, clearly delighted at the unfolding ritual.
Jake looked at Skip, eyes sparkling. Skip gave him a quick wink, lifting his glass in mock salute. “What do you think, partner?”
Jake laughed. “I think we’ve got this.”
The patio erupted as the DJ cued up a pulsing dance track. With that, the lights around the pool brightened, champagne glasses clinked again, and the crowd stepped back to open a pathway.
The boys set down their drinks, gave each other one last mischievous grin, and then—just like that—the show began.
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