Page 18 of Escape To Paradise
“I’m sorry, we got on the wrong foot. I am just desperate. That’s all.”
I pushed the drink. He just stared at it.
“You don’t want it?” he asked.
“Of course. It sucks!”
“I can get you another one.” He combed his hands through his hair.
Zofia leaned towards Maverick. She obviously found him amusing. “Are you really named Maverick?” Zofia asked.
“Yeah, my mom named me after a character from Top Gun.”
“That’s so sweet.”
“Well, Maverick, I’m not paying for that drink.” I pushed the drink again, this time much closer to him.
Again, he just stared at it. “Oh, okay.”
“I’ll pay for her drink, Maverick. But only if you let us mix our drinks!” Zofia laughed.
“Sure. Since I’m obviously doing a lousy job at it. Why not?”
“Really? I was just kidding,” Zofia said. “Come on, Harper, let’s mix some drinks.”
“Shouldn’t we be heading home?” I pleaded.
“Let’s have fun!” Kathleen said. She finally got out of her shell. She went to the back of the bar, and Zofia joined her.
“Girls, what are you doing?”
“We’re making a drink!” Zofia cheerfully said.
“Come and join your friends.” Maverick laughed.
“You guys are crazy!” I relented but joined them at the back of the bar.
I scanned the bar for the ingredients of a real pina colada. In a blender, I put a load of rum, just a dash of pineapple juice, coconut cream, and finally, a hint of lime. And with some ice, he blended all the ingredients. After that, I poured it into a tall glass, placed a maraschino pepper on top, and then some coconut chunks. When I tasted it, it tasted superb. I let Maverick taste it, and his eyes widened.
“Wow, that’s amazing. You’re a good bartender! You’re hired.” He laughed.
Zofia made a Moscow Mule, and Kathleen made a margarita. We took sips from each other’s drinks. They tasted better than what Maverick could have done.
“You got me, girls! I am not very good at my job apparently.” He placed both of his hands up in the air.
It was fun behind the bar. Other guests started coming in, and Maverick allowed us to serve them drinks.
“Are we getting tips for this?” Kathleen asked.
“Sure, whatever you girls need.” Maverick, then, inched closer to me. “So, chef, maybe you can help me with my menu? We can talk shop. What’s your number?”
“Did you just ask me for my number?” I said incredulously.
“Yeah, how else would we talk shop?” He grinned.
“You’re something else.”
Maverick turned the music on louder, and the girls started dancing. We served a dozen guests and mixed our own drinks before we moved to the dance floor. Maverick danced along with us. He was actually a decent dancer, and we danced together. He kept trying to go near me and touched my hand, but I swatted him away. This didn’t deter him. He still kept asking for my number.
