“I don’t think we even have an option. We need to know what’s going to be in that basket.”
“That’s my girl,” I say, pulling her into my side.
“Please review the ingredients on the menu in front of you, pull your ideas together, and when you’re done, bring your tumbler up to the bar, tell our bartender the ingredients, mix them, and then set your drinks in front of the judges’ table. It will be a blind taste test, so the judges are hiding at the moment. Don’t forget to name your drink. Good luck.”
Okay, this could be fun.
I pick up the menu in front of us and say, “Any ideas?”
“Well, we have to pick something that represents us, but we also want to make it good. So we can’t be putting lager and Fireball together.”
“I mean, if you want to grow hair on the judges’ chests, we could do that.”
“I don’t think it’s recommended,” she says on a laugh.
“Yeah, probably not. Okay, well, let’s pick an alcohol base and work around that.”
Chad and his wife already head up to the bar, clearly ready to win as they lean over, hiding whatever the bartender is pouring in their tumbler. Seems premature—they didn’t want to think it over at all? Just heading right on up there?
“Look at those overachievers. Bet they’re doing something unimaginative like…Sex on the Beach,” I say.
“Or Bloody Nipples.”
I pause and turn toward Scottie. “What the fuck is Bloody Nipples?”
“Uh, is that what it’s called?”
“I sure as fuck hope not.”
She laughs and then says, “Wait, it’s a Slippery Nipple.”
“Oh, okay, yes. Jesus. Not Bloody Nipples, Scottie.”
“Yeah, that didn’t sound right. Bloody Nipples is definitely not something I would want to put in my mouth.”
“Slippery nipples though…” I nudge her shoulder.
“You know what, that’s something we should add to the bucket list.”
“Slippery nipples?” I ask.
“A naked massage, where my nipples get all slippery.”
My brows raise. “And who do you plan on checking that bucket list item off with?”
She smirks up at me. “Was hoping with my fake husband.”
“Damn right.”
“We have about five minutes left,” Sanders calls out.
“Shit, this has a time limit? He didn’t say that in the beginning, did he?” I say.
“I don’t think so. Okay, we need to focus. Umm, let’s go with tequila.”
“Why tequila?”
“Umm…I don’t know. This is where you need to lean on your improv.”
