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“Why would there be a bar in Port Sunshine, Florida, called Colorado’s Finest?” I asked her quizzically. “How does that make sense?”
“I don’t know,” she said, shaking her head. “Maybe they imported a bunch of hot guys from Colorado to work there.”
“I wish. This I got to see,” I said as she pulled down onto Main Street and drove past a bunch of cute boutiques and then pulled up outside what appeared to be a newly constructed barn. “Is this a joke?” I looked at my sister. “Where are we?”
“We’re at Colorado’s Fine,” she said and then looked at the front of the store. “Oops. I guess I got the name wrong.”
“Yeah, you got the name wrong. The name is Colorado’s Finest Beers,” I said as I read the bright red sign.
“Well, when my friend Bridget was telling me about it, I didn’t exactly hear what she said. She just said that it was really cool and there were some fine men.”
“Okay. Well, let’s see. You’re buying.”
“Why do I got to buy? I’ve been driving you this entire time.”
“You’ve been driving me for thirty minutes,” I said. “I embarrassed myself. I mortified myself. I…”
“Okay, whatever. I’ll buy you your first beer. It’s happy hour anyway.”
“You’re so cheap, Chelsea.”
“You’re cheap, Polly.”
“Well, that’s because I’m not dating a billionaire.”
“Oh my gosh. Get over it. I’m not dating a billionaire, either.”
“True,” I said, laughing. “I do sound a bit bitter, huh?”
“Yeah, you’re making me wonder if you didn’t want Finn yourself.”
“No way, Jose. He is not my type.”
“Oh, you don’t like tall, dark, good-looking, handsome, funny, and rich men?”
“He’s not that funny, he’s not that handsome, and…”
“You can’t say he’s not that rich. He’s the fifth richest man in the whole United States of America.”
“Fine. He’s kind of rich. Whatever,” I said and then laughed. “I feel like I need to get laid or something.”
“I think you do,” Chelsea said. “You are a major bitch. You need an orgasm to get you…”
“To get me what? To be nicer?”
“Or something,” Chelsea said. “Come on, let’s go and get a beer.” We jumped out of the car and headed toward Colorado’s Finest Beer. The exterior looked like a red barn, and I was nervous about what we would find inside. It wasn’t that barns were so out of place in Florida, but I wasn’t the sort of person that liked to go to redneck places not because I didn’t like them, but because I’d grown up around them my entire life. And now, I wanted something more sophisticated. I wanted…
“Welcome to Colorado’s Finest Beers,” a tall, older man said, wearing a cowboy hat. “This your first time, ladies?” He had a twang, and Chelsea and I couldn’t help but look at each other and giggle.
“Yes, our first time,” Chelsea said. “Are you from Colorado?”
“No, ma’am. I’m from Oklahoma,” he said. “But you don’t be telling anyone that.” His voice was absolutely ridiculous, and I wanted to burst out laughing, but I knew that would be rude.
“Oh, cool. Oklahoma,” I said. “What a cool state.”
“Yes, ma’am. You’ve been?”
“Not yet,” I said, “but I’m saving up the pennies so I can go one day.”
