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Brilliant.
“And who wants to order this one?” she calls.
Twice as many ask for the chocolate drink as my rainbow one. As she sets her drink in front of our trio of judges and starts making more, I wonder if we could have simply used the orders to signify the win.
Morrie realizes the drinks will take a few minutes and flips on his mike. “While we wait, let’s meet some members of Team Gabe and Team Tillie.” He walks around the circle to interview customers while Tillie and I frantically mix cocktails.
I glance over at her. She’s working swiftly, adding ice to ten glasses, then pouring liquor into each one. So smart. I’ve been making one drink at a time.
I take up her assembly line method. She glances over at me with a smile.
My usual urge might have been to challenge her. But I find this time, I can’t do anything but smile back.
I never imagined working in my bar could be like this.
Chapter 11
TILLIE
I assume that by the time we’ve completed the flavor round with Gabe’s rum runner and my lemon whiskey sour, the orders will slow, but they don’t. Gabe and I work steadily, Anya and Pete hopping inside to wash glassware and take credit cards. Pete uses the same payment system as Gabe, so he can take over immediately.
By the time we get to the wild card round with the coconuts, Pete has already seen what lies ahead and set Bodeen to hollowing out as many coconuts as he can manage.
The crowd is tremendous, and once the dishwasher is running to ensure enough glassware to keep us going, Anya works the fringes beyond the bar to take drink orders.
I’m energized by the work, as I always get when a busy shift wears on. But, of course, it’s only afternoon, and it could be a long one if this crowd makes a night of it.
I glance around to take in what we’ve done. The hut is circled three and four feet deep with customers, most of them with a drink in their hands. I spot Lila and Rosie on a chair a short distance away and wave.
Gabe’s mom has also shown up with another woman near her age. The two of them sit on a blanket in the sand, their heads together, talking and occasionally looking our way.
The windows in the condos light up as dusk falls. Gabe flips on the colored lights. When I turn toward the ocean, the sun is setting, sparking fiery red and orange tones across the darkening water.
I love it here. I love everything about what we’re doing and where. I hope Gabe knows that he’s bartending in paradise. There is no inside bar that could come close to the working conditions he has. The openness cuts the noise. The breeze keeps the air fresh and moving.
Gabe bends down to locate the new bottle of blue curaçao, so I quickly squat next to him.
“Hey. Do you think Bodeen can handle a ton of coconut orders if people go nuts?”
Gabe looks behind him at the bottom row of the cart. It’s piled high with coconuts ready to be filled. “It looks like we have about twenty. I say we announce only the first twenty orders will get coconuts.”
I nod. “That’s a good plan.”
We stand up.
Morrie is ready to announce the final category. “It comes down to this—the wondrous coconut. They grow on our island. Our local farmers harvest them and prepare them for various delicious items all across La Jarra.”
Gabe snatches one from the cart and hands it to Morrie to hold up.
“Tonight,” Morrie continues, “our bartenders will prepare their own coconut-inspired cocktails in the husk of the fruit.”
Gabe leans into the mike. “And due to the labor involved in hollowing out the coconuts, only twenty orders for these drinks will be made in the husks.”
“There you have it!” Morrie says. “Be ready to get in on the final drinks of the competition!”
Gabe takes the coconut husk from him and sets it on the counter.
He pulls a cocktail shaker from the shelf and does his spin-and-toss routine. The crowd cheers.
