the next day to pay my bill. It would be etched in my
memory forever.
Half an hour later an older white
guy ushered me into a stately, though still low-key, parlor in Gladis’s
impressive house. While it looked like a man picked all the furniture a score
of years before, what with all the large, shiny wood and overbearing pieces,
the accents and small details were relatively updated for this century, and
hinted at a graceful eye for decorating. Scrolled sconces adorned the walls, adding
flare to beautiful oil paintings. Exquisite oriental rugs protected parts of
the shiny hardwood floor. Candles lent a feminine touch to a large mantel
piece.
“Hello dear!” Gladis gracefully
rose from a leather couch across the grand room.
“Hi Gladis.”
“Don’t you know better than to ring
the bell? This is your house, too. Come in the back door, silly!” She waved her
hand as she met me, immediately turning and leading me to the liquor cabinet.
And a woman wearing all black standing guard.
Bartender? Or had my reputation
preceded me?
“What’r you havin’?” Gladis asked.
“Do you have beer?”
“Beer? Oh honey, no! This is a
house of sophistication. It is time for grown up drinks!”
Grown up, huh? Drink a bunch of
hard alcohol, get sloppy, do things you’ll regret? I must have turned grown up
at eighteen. Okay, sixteen, but don’t tell my mom—it was her alcohol I was
stealing.
“Well....”
“C’mon, darlin. Lady here knows
every drink you can think of.”
“Every drink? Really?” I looked at
the middle-aged woman unfortunately named Lady. “Do you know how to make a
German Chocolate Cake?”
I got a stern look for longer than
an average moment. As a strange paranoia washed over me, she glanced back at
the almost full bar behind her. Then looked at Gladis.
Why do I feel like I’m in trouble?
Gladis had a bemused expression on
her face. “Well, Lady? You said you knew the drinks of young people. What do
you think?”
“Yes, ma’am. It sounds familiar.
Hmmm.” She turned toward the bottles behind her again, staring. Gladis gave me
a wink.
“No, ma’am. It escapes me. I am
sorry to disappoint,” Lady said, turning back to us. She meant it, too.
I quickly told the bartender, or
maid, or whoever, how to make the drink. It was an easy drink to make and take;
vanilla vodka and a chocolate liquor, which tasted like a real chocolate cake.
How could someone not know that one?
When they were made—and by the way,
they were shots, not drinks—I turned to Gladis. “Okay, this is what you do. You
grab your shot. Grab your lemon coated in sugar—yes, that is an active
ingredient. Now. Take the shot, swallow, then immediately suck on the sugar
lemon.”
Gladis tilted her head to the side
as if I’d started speaking Sanskrit.
“Gladis, this is a grown up drink.
Now, c’mon. If you don’t have beer, you have this. Grab your shot, let’s get to
it.”
I looked serious through the whole
thing, because a smile would have given it away.
Gladis put a resigned look of
determination on her face, grabbed the shot, clinked my glass, and we fired
away. I really didn’t think she would do it. Welcome back to your 20’s!
When we were done, she gave me a
hard look. Then a smile crept up her face like a slow moving beetle. “That does
taste like German Chocolate Cake. Interesting... Now, Jessica my dear, please
have Lady make you a sipping drink so we can chat.”
I would have asked for a Mojito,
but didn’t know how to make it if Lady didn’t, and I didn’t think they stocked
fresh mint, so I asked for a chocolate martini. Lady looked relieved at this
one, made it quickly, and handed it over.
Gladis led me to a plush leather
sofa. “So darlin’,” she started, “did you find the store alright?”
That earlier bout of embarrassment
must have come rushing back to my face because Gladis said, "Out with it!”
I told her the whole story. From
getting lost, which was embarrassing since she gave
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