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“She walked along the beachfront, enchanting everyone who came her way. Men tossed flowers at her feet. Children danced around her like she was a fairy princess.”
I drop a paper umbrella on the rim of each drink and set them in front of the young couple. Then I take the other man’s empty pint glass and drop it in the sink, turning to grab a fresh one.
Mendo continues his story. “She had many admirers but would look at no one, casting only the smallest smile, until she reached this very bar. And there was our fair Gabriel, a fine picture of a man, making a rainbow-layered drink of his own invention.”
The honeymoon woman slides the laminated cocktail menu closer to her. “Which one is that?”
Mendo shakes his head. “It’s not on the menu. Only the locals know of it. It is his greatest achievement.”
Now we’re straying into infomercial territory. I fill the man’s pint glass with beer.
Mendo stands in front of his stool, warming up to the story. “The woman from the ocean saw the sun strike the colors of the drink and sat right there.” He points to a seat currently occupied by a middle-age woman in a flowered hat. She touches her windblown hair, flustered at the group’s sudden attention.
“My lovely woman, you are as radiant as the sun yourself.” Mendo lifts his glass to her, then resumes his story. “The goddess asked for the drink, and Gabe gave it to her, struck by her beauty, same as everyone else on this fair isle.”
Fair isle.He’s laying it on thick today.
“Did she like it?” the woman in the hat asks.
“Like it?” Mendo slaps the bar. “It was as though he’d given her a love potion. She lifted her gaze with those long eyelashes and instantly fell for Gabe.”
This time the men reach for the cocktail menu. They’ve forgotten the drink isn’t there.
“Did they start dating?” Honeymoon Lady’s eyes are alight, as if she needs a good love story.
Mendo cuts the air with the flat of his hand. “Oh no, there is no mere dating with lovers like these. They danced in the sand to the music of the waves. The stars came out early to shine upon their happiness.”
Good grief. I wipe my hands with a towel. Nobody’s ordering anything at the moment. They’re all listening.
Mendo takes a sip of his beer before continuing. “For long days and nights, they moved side by side. The goddess spent her time on the beach, never far from Gabe’s bar. She brought him food, and when they had a moment to spare, they rowed out among the bioluminescent waters to gaze into the amazing future they planned together.”
“What happened?” the flower-hat woman asks. She’s invested.
“One night, Gabe rowed her out to one of the secret caves for a midnight swim. It hadn’t occurred to him that his goddess never went in the water. When he stepped out onto the rocks in the darkness, he was only in waist-high waters, but the stones can be slippery with algae. When he reached for her, he lost his footing, tipping the boat. She went over the side.”
Several gasps tell me that some of them believe she dies in this story. I rotate my hand to tell Mendo to speed it up. I can’t have him bringing everyone down on one of my high-volume drink nights.
“The cave was dark, lit only by the blue glow of the plankton,” Mendo says. “I know, because I run a secret tour of the caves that ordinary tourists can’t visit.”
Ah yes, the product-placement portion of the story. Honeymoon Man quickly asks, “Do you have a card?”
“I do.” Mendo passes him a stack to share around.
And there it is. I wash the dirty glasses and set them in the dishwasher to be sanitized.
“What happened to the goddess?” the flower-hat woman asks.
Mendo watches the business cards move around the bar. “Gabe here heard only a splash and a swoosh. And the lady was gone. There was no sign of her in the cave. He looked all night and all morning. But whenhe brought his boat back out into the light, there were strange rainbow scales caught in the rope.” Mendo meets the gaze of all his rapt listeners. “And he recalled seeing those same bright scales in his bathroom from time to time.”
He sips his drink to let this information sink in. “He never heard from his goddess again.” He slams his empty drink on the bar. “And so, no tourists for Gabe! No women at all. Not until his rainbow mermaid returns to him!”
The customers sit back, understanding they’ve been told a tall tale.
“I’d still like to try that drink, if it’s real,” says the flower-hat woman.
“Sure,” I tell her. “It’s called a mermaid sunrise.”
“Sounds wonderful,” she says.
