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“Let’s just say I lost a couple of hours at the end of the night. Sam had to pick me up at the bar. Apparently, I insisted on stopping for Big Macs on the way home and serenaded him with every Jimmy Buffett song I knew…or even didn’t know. He said eventually I just started making up words.”
“Sounds hilarious to me.”
Gianna giggled. “Yeah, Sam said it was quite a show, but he wasn’t mad about it. That year for Christmas, he gave me Jimmy Buffett’s Greatest Hits and told me I should brush up on the lyrics before my next tequila night.”
“Have you practiced?” Elio asked. “Because I’m going to want that concert later.”
She followed him to the living room area, her heavy sigh drawing his attention as he grabbed the fifth of tequila he’d brought with him, along with two shot glasses.
“If you’d rather not—” he began, but she cut him off.
“Oh no. It’s not that. It’s just…” Her words trailed off, and he got the sense she was hesitant to finish her thought.
“What is it?”
“You realize there are two open bottles of tequila in that cabinet. We could…um…”
Elio recalled her comment about being OCD. “Want to finish those two first?”
She nodded. “It might help. The cabinet really is overflowing. The idea of opening a new bottle when there are two open already makes my brain itch.”
Elio knelt in front of the cabinet, amused by her comment, then realized she was right. The cabinet was out of control. “You know, it would take a joint effort on our part, but I think we could clean the whole thing out this week.”
Her eyes lit up. “I think so too. All we have to do is combine the bottles and then—”
He shook his head. “Nope. That’s not what I mean.” He pulled out the two tequila bottles that were already open. “There are only a couple shots each in these. But if we move from tequila to vodka shots, we could clear four bottles out just tonight.”
“I’m not singing Jimmy Buffett,” she insisted, and he laughed.
“The night is young. You should never say never.” He placed the four partial bottles of liquor on the kitchen table, then grabbed a deck of cards. “You ever play blackjack?”
“Yeah. Why?”
“Thought we could play. You beat me, I take the shot. I beat you, you drink. If it’s a draw, we’re both spared.”
“We’ll be trashed in ten minutes,” she said, digging in her heels.
“No, we won’t. I’ll deal first.” Elio shuffled then dealt their cards, one facedown, the second face up. “Queen for you. Ten for me.”
Gianna looked at the facedown card, considering. Then she tapped once. “Hit me.”
He dealt her third card face up. “A five.”
“I’ll stop there.”
He looked at his cards, then said, “Dealer is holding. Whatcha got?”
She flipped over her cards to reveal her third card was a six. “Blackjack.”
“Damn.” Elio turned his over to reveal his cards added up to twenty. He poured himself a tequila shot, lifted the glass in a silent toast to her, then drank it down.
They played several more hands, both of them evenly matched when it came to shots. They’d polished off the two open bottles of tequila and had moved on to the vodka.
“My head is starting to spin a little,” she admitted.
“Should I fire up Spotify? How do you feel about ‘Margaritaville’?”
She laughed. “God no. I can’t carry a tune in a bucket. Sam used to cover his ears, called it noise pollution. And believe me, he wasn’t wrong.”
