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“I should get more blue curaçao. I have a feeling we’re going to be serving up a lot of rainbows.”
“Good thinking. I might make a blue Hawaiian in a coconut for the wild card. If the judges’ age skews upward, that will play to the Elvis crowd.”
“I’m not sure Mendo knows anyone over the age of thirty,” Gabe says.
“Oh, that’s right. You’ll probably know the judges.” He’ll have an advantage. But it doesn’t matter. I don’t have anything invested in winning or losing. Although it would be pretty fun to boss Gabe around in his own bar for a night.
Gabe snatches a blue bottle as we pass them. “Don’t assume it will help me. Most of these people would be happy to see me subservient to a tourist.”
Interesting. “How do the locals feel about tourists?”
“You’re important to our economy. Like many islands, we used to supply raw goods to big countries, but there is only so much land to produce it. Now we thrive on being a financial haven as well as a tourist destination.”
“But how do localsfeelabout us?”
He hesitates, nodding at a passing customer. “I guess there’s a sense that as more outsiders move here, the less La Jarra retains its culture.”
That makes sense. “Do lots of people move here?”
“Not anymore. It’s really hard to get residency. Now, resort jobs, those are easy to get a temporary work permit for. But not to stay.”
We arrive at the checkout, where Joe is watching our every move. I plunk the bottle down. “Hi, Joe! I’m Tillie.”
He sniffs, turning the bottle toward him. “Not your usual swill, Gabe.”
Gabe shakes his head. “Glad you hold my bar in such high esteem.”
Joe shrugs. “Must be the influence of the lady.”
I grin at him. “I made him buy it.”
“Mendo brought the flyer around already.” Joe tilts his head toward the front window.
The sun shines through it, making it readable from the back, in reverse. I wander closer.
LA JARRA BOOZE BRAWL
LOCAL BARTENDER GABE LANDERS VS.
GEORGIA USA HOTTIE DRINKSLINGER
LOSER WORKS FOR THE WINNER ALL NIGHT LONG
COCKTAIL SPECIALS
It lists an address I assume is for the bar.
I turn to Gabe. “Georgia hottie drinkslinger?”
He sighs. “I didn’t get to approve the flyers.”
I shake my head. “I’ve been called worse.”
Joe sniffs as he stuffs the bottles in a paper bag. “Don’t let nobody disrespect her,” he tells Gabe.
“I won’t.”
“Watch those hooligans.”
