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Then Morrie ups the ante. “After every round, we will pause for anyone who wants to try the drink. Is that right, Gabe?”
Oh boy. I’m not sure the two of us can handle that if the crowd gets too big. I lean over the counter to his mike. “We’ll sure try, Morrie.”
“Let me introduce the judges!” Morrie says.
Anya and Chuck have to wind through the bystanders to walk up.
“This is Anya, a longtime friend of Gabe’s!” There are boos and cheers as the crowd realizes she might vote for me.
She takes the mike. “No worries, Team Tillie! I’ve got the lady’s back!”
Another big cheer.
Chuck doesn’t want to hold the mike. He tugs his ball cap low on his forehead, leaning close to Anya to quickly say, “I’m Chuck. I like to drink.”
This gets the biggest cheer of all.
Morrie takes the mike back. “This first round will be all about presentation. Gather around to watch our two bartenders make the most beautiful drinks!”
I’m not sure if we should do them simultaneously or one at a time. I turn to Tillie.
“You go!” she calls.
I nod. I pull the liquors for the mermaid sunrise.
Tillie walks the circle as I fill the glass with ice and pour in the bright-red grenadine. “Pay close attention,” she says. “Layering liquors is one of the most difficult things we do. It takes a steady hand and a knowledge of how each color will behave when it encounters the others.”
I place the juice in next. For a moment, it appears the yellow-orange will mix in with the red, and the crowd makes a disappointed “Awww.” But then I tap the glass, and they separate again into two clean colors.
Everyone claps.
“That’s how it’s done,” Tillie says, and I appreciate the tone she’s set that we will encourage each other rather than point out any negatives.
I cut the Midori with vodka and add it at an angle, letting it slip into the glass. When it’s time for the blue curaçao, I stick to my bar spoon, leaving the fancy cherry work for her.
I finish it out with the fruit garnish and the seahorse gummy, then hold it up.
Anya, Chuck, and Morrie have squeezed in together by the hinged section of the counter, where there are no stools.
“Look at that,” Anya says.
The three of them make a great show of writing on their clipboards.
“I’ll take one!” the flower-hat woman calls. “I had it last night, and it’s delicious.”
I wave my hand around the circle. “Anyone else?” Four or five others lift their hands. With a crowd this size, it’s going to be challenging to keep it all straight.
I set to making more off to one side while Tillie takes my place. “I will also make a layered drink. But rather than playing to the bright side, I’m going dark.” She heaves four bottles onto the counter, including the coffee liqueur. “For those of you who have black, black souls.”
A longooooosettles around the bar.
I glance over occasionally, watching her expertly layer the black, brown, amber, and pale liquors.
“And like any good drink, we add a bit of chocolate.”
I pause to watch. I didn’t know about this part. She takes the bottle of chocolate liqueur and shows it around. Then she opens a candy bar from the snack tray and breaks off a rectangle.
She uses the chocolate as a ramp to ease the liqueur into the drink. She lifts the glass, the coated chocolate bar slowly sinking into the liquor like the last gasp of a dark world.
