Martini & Bossy - The Coconut Chronicles: Two Guys, One Caribbean Dream House - page 302

“That's what Patty said.”
“At least she got one thing right.”
Michael sat down.
“If we had any vodka I'd ask you to make me a drink.”
I stared at him with pity.
“We have a situation on our hands, Michael, not a nuclear standoff. Belvedere or Grey
Goose ?”
By the time Patty got back we were slightly more relaxed.
“I ran into Marcus at the grocery store. He's on his way!” she said.
First I had to process the fact that she'd run into our truant bartender skipping carelessly
along the aisles of the local market while I was having a nervous breakdown.
“I thought his mother was on the brink of death.”
“Actually, she died.”
“Oh my God.”
“Years ago. I just told you that so you wouldn't hit me.”
I should have slugged you anyway, I thought.
“The truth is, Marcus has a massive drug problem.”
“That's comforting.”
“Which he's fighting valiantly. I admire him a lot. And I forgive him for blowing us
off.”
“You called him a bastard an hour ago.”
“Actually, he is, but he makes the best martini in the Caribbean.”
“Then I forgive him too.”
The servers drifted in at six-thirty. Patty greeted them like BFFs. This struck me as
slightly peculiar, but perhaps in her world showing up nearly two hours late for work con-
stituted exemplary behavior.
When the first guests arrived at six-forty, drug-addicted but fabulous Marcus had not
yet graced us with his presence. I steered Patty to the bar and told her to get busy.
At seven o'clock, Marcus finally blew in. His excuse? He just couldn't resist stopping
to admire the sunset near his house in Esperanza.
Late or not, I have to admit he was worth the wait.