Mojitos & Murder

by Sara Bourgeois

  “It’s horrible,” I said and let my head fall into my hands.

  “You are a pill. Do you know that?” Presto asked with a laugh. “I think you’ll learn to like it here, but you really should put something on that burn.”

  “What burn?”

  “Your face, dear. You’re going to look like a lobster by the time that thing fully sets in.”

  I jumped off the couch and scrambled to find the bathroom. It was down the hall past the kitchen but before the second bedroom, if you’re curious. After flipping on the light, I let out a strangled screech. My face was already turning a magnificent shade of cherry red, and Presto was right; it would only get worse.

  Fortunately, the bathroom came stocked. In the medicine chest was a huge bottle of aloe vera. I slathered as much of it on my face, neck, and lower arms as I could. What I didn’t realize was that the thick, blue gel also contained lidocaine. The cool, icy sting turned into a pleasant tingle. I suddenly found myself feeling very tired.

  Further down the hall and to the right was the master suite. I walked in and was thankful to find it almost fully dark. “Thanks, Esmerelda,” I said as soon as I realized the room was blacked out with room-darkening curtains.

  With my budding sunburn handled, my next move was to collapse onto the bed. Within seconds, I was asleep. When I woke up, Presto was curled up next to me on the bed. He was purring and swishing his tail lazily.

  “I’m not sure how I feel about sharing a bed with you now that I know you aren’t really a cat,” I said sleepily.

  “I’m still a cat. I feel like a cat now. I mean, I really like those treats and purring feels quite good,” he said and stretched out. “I wonder if I’m this way for too long, will I just become a hundred percent cat?”

  His tone was inquisitive, but I could sense a touch of fear under the surface. “I’ll do my best to make sure that doesn’t happen,” I said and scratched under his chin. “Unless you decide you like being a cat.”

  “That’s not fair,” Presto said and his purring amplified.

  My stomach growled loudly, and it occurred to me that it had been too long since I’d eaten anything. “I think I’m going to go scope out the bar where I’m supposed to work and see if I can find someplace to eat. Are you going to be okay here?” I asked, but he was already fast asleep again.

  I washed my face with cool water and made an attempt to use some healing magic on my burn. It wasn’t anything earth-shattering, but I could swear my sunburn felt a bit better. Perhaps I did just need to acclimate to the island. The energy there was certainly different than the Midwest. It was a palpable change, and despite my disdain for the place, I could feel it sinking in.

  After applying another layer of the sunburn gel, I instinctively went to the bedroom closet. I’m not sure what I was expecting to find, but it’s not what I found. None of my clothes were in the closet, but what was in there was a collection of sun dresses, sandals, and big, floppy hats. I could have killed Esmerelda. Where was my black velvet and lace? Where were my boots and ruby broaches?

  “I can’t do this,” I said as I looked around, but my stomach gave a loud grumble. My body was saying suck it up, buttercup, so I looked around for something I could at least tolerate wearing.

  A dark purple maxi dress with black leather Roman sandals was the best I could do with what I’d been given. I’d thought about trying to find a cardigan to cover my arms, but then I remembered the heat.

  In the master suite’s bathroom, I put on the clothes and tied my hair into a high ponytail. The redness in my face had subsided some, and while I was sufficiently pale, at least I didn’t look like a lobster anymore. Another grumble from my stomach at the thought of lobster.

  “Alright. Okay. I get the message. I bet the seafood is phenomenal here,” I said to my reflection.

  Before leaving, I did a quick Google search of the bar just to confirm its location. I was pleased to find that the island at least had good cell reception. That was one point for the tourists, who were no doubt the driving force behind the excellent reception. Even in paradise, I doubted people could tear their eyes from their phones for very long.

  The Blue Saloon was down the street a few blocks from my house. Even though the sun had begun to set, I still whipped out the bottle of spray-on sunscreen I’d found in the master bathroom and sprayed my exposed parts with it. I wasn’t taking any chances.

  The walk to the bar wasn’t entirely unpleasant. The ocean breeze smelled of salt, and the hot pink of the setting sun was enough to make me reconsider my hatred for the color.

  A couple of blocks from my house, I began to hear boisterous music. It was a blend of what was playing from the sound systems in the various bars and restaurants and the street musicians performing outside of those establishments. It should have been a cacophony of noise, but somehow it was both soothing and invigorating at the same time.

  One block before I should have arrived at my bar, I stumbled upon a restaurant called Crab Dip and Dive. It was packed and loud, and I should have kept walking, but the smell of fresh hush puppies grabbed hold of me and wouldn’t let go.

  “Welcome to Crab Dip and Dive. Table for one?” A bubbly hostess in a white tank top and khaki shorts asked as soon as I’d walked in.

  “Yes, please.”

  “There’s about a half hour wait for a table unless you’d like to sit at the bar,” she said through a megawatt, and yet somehow less than genuine, smile.

  “The bar would be great.”

  As I walked through the restaurant, heads turned my way. I could swear that a few of the patrons were giving me the stink eye. A few older women shook their heads and clucked their tongues, men scowled, but I told myself it was just that I looked like a fish out of water. People would get used to me soon enough.

  “Is this okay?” the hostess asked and set my menu down at a spot near the center of the bar.

  “This is great. Thank you.”

  I sat down and opened the menu. It hit me how quiet the restaurant had gotten when I walked in as soon as the noise and chatter picked back up. Hey, at least the bar owner might get some increased business from the people who would come in to gawp at me.

  As I was reading the menu, the hostess brought in another patron and sat him at the bar right next to me. I tried to focus on the food offerings in front of me, but I couldn’t help my eyes from wandering to the handsome stranger.

  He was tall, tan, and had golden blond hair that caught the light just right. As he held his menu up to peruse the selections, I couldn’t help but notice that his biceps were pleasantly buff.

  “I know it’s totally unhealthy, but the deep-fried lobster and hush puppies is the best meal here. You’ll want to eat the fries with malt vinegar,” he said with a smile.

  “You’re right, that does sound completely unhealthy,” I said, and I couldn’t help but smile back at him.

  “It’s worth it.” He closed his menu and set it down on the bar.

  “You’re a local. I guess I’ve got no choice but to trust you,” I said and set my menu down as well.

  “I’m Holden Grey,” he said and turned halfway around so he could extend a hand to me.

  “I’m Starla Shadowend,” I said and took his hand.

  “Wow, that’s quite a name.”

  “My family is full of colorful characters.” I realized almost instantly that I was still holding his hand. I felt my cheeks color as I pulled back.

  “Sorry, I guess my manners need some touching up.”

  “It’s fine,” Holden said with a good-natured laugh. “So, what brings you to Clownfish Cay?”

  “I needed a new start,” I said. “I’ll be tending bar at the Blue Saloon.”

  “Well, it’s nice to meet you, Starla. It’s good to see new faces around the island.”

  “I figured you saw new faces all of the time,” I said and motioned to the sea of tourists and locals in the restaurant.

  “Yeah, at least half of the people in
here, I’ll never see them again. The other half I see more than my share of,” Holden said with a chuckle. “I’m the manager of the Paradise Port Resort. I see so many tourists that it makes my eyes blurry sometimes, but it’s what keeps me in a job. You won’t see as many at the Blue Saloon. It’s more of a locals’ hangout. The place doesn’t have the vacation vibe, so most of the island’s visitors steer clear of it. They can go to dive bars back home. It’s too bad, though, because it’s one of the few genuine places around here.”

  “I imagine that’s not what people want,” I said as the bartender approached us.

  “Not at all,” Holden said.

  “What can I get for you?” a small woman with bleach blonde hair dressed in the same white tank top and khaki shorts as the hostess asked me.

  “Holden here says I need to try the fried lobster and hush puppies,” I said and handed her my menu.

  “That you do. Just don’t eat it every day or you’ll sink the island,” she said with a conspiratorial wink. “What’ll you have to drink.”

  I didn’t know what to order to drink. At home, I would have had a whiskey neat or a Vampire’s Kiss made with Chambord and vodka, but that didn’t seem very in line with the spirit of my new home. I looked around frantically because I knew nothing of tropical drinks. That, of course, was about to change, but at the time, I was clueless. I spotted a chalkboard behind the bar that said that mojitos were on special.

  “I guess I’ll try a mojito,” I said as enthusiastically as I could muster without sounding fake.

  “I’ll have the same as her,” Holden said and handed the bartender his menu. “Oh, and put her dinner and drinks on my tab.”

  The bartender nodded and walked away before I could protest. “That’s very generous of you. You don’t have to do that.” I felt weird accepting his kindness, but I had no idea why.

  “Well, we can’t very well tell our grandchildren that I let you pay for your own dinner on our first date,” he said with a chuckle.

  I just sat there for a second with my mouth agape. I couldn’t tell if he was serious or not, but I wouldn’t have minded if he was. It had been a long time since I’d gone out on a date, and it wasn’t with someone as handsome and charming as Holden.

  “I’m kidding,” he said. “Unless you’d actually go on a date with me.”

  “I can neither confirm nor deny that,” I said and blushed furiously again.

  “Oh, playing it mysterious. It suits you,” he said as the bartender brought us our mojitos.

  Chapter Four

  I left the restaurant buzzing with positive energy. Holden and I sat at the bar talking and sipping drinks for two hours after we’d finished our food. It felt like we could have sat there all night, except that he got an urgent call from the hotel.

  “A manager’s work is never done. I’m sorry to cut our evening short,” he said as we exited the restaurant.

  “I understand.”

  He gave me a quick peck on the cheek. I’m sure Holden could feel the heat of my cheeks under his lips. I knew I’d have to get my chronic blushing under control, but I didn’t know how. No one had ever had that effect on me before.

  Since I didn’t feel like going home yet, I walked the rest of the block to the Blue Saloon. I was due in at work the next day, and I wanted to at least know what the place looked like before I started my new job.

  The outside vaguely resembled a cross between a log cabin and a pirate ship. I could understand why most tourists didn’t go in. The Blue Saloon had a bit of a rough vibe to it. I liked it. My new place of employment was both dark and tropical, and I thought that was where I had the best chance to fit in. Esmerelda had done well.

  I was lucky that my first night at the bar was a weeknight. I’d held some serious misconceptions about how easy bartending was. It was just that the ones I’d seen in the past had made it look easy.

  Fortunately, most of the patrons who frequented the Blue Saloon were easy. They just wanted a beer or a whiskey on the rocks. A kindly local named Solomon taught me how to properly pour a beer from the tap, and I picked it up pretty easy.

  “Thanks,” I said as I handed him his drink. “I really appreciate that. I can’t believe the owner handed me keys and a bartending book and then left.”

  “That’s Roger for you,” Solomon said. “This place isn’t his passion or anything. He doesn’t even live on this island. The Blue Saloon is an investment for him. It was supposed to be a mostly hands-off cash investment. He never anticipated that his main bartender would quit to join the staff at the cruise line.”

  “Are you and Roger close?” I asked.

  “No, nothing like that. He’s been in here tending bar for the last week or so while he looked for a replacement. I’ve heard the whole story several times.” Solomon laughed and took a huge swig of his beer.

  “So I guess I shouldn’t call him if I need help,” I said and sighed. I hadn’t anticipated being alone and in charge right off the bat.

  “No. I wouldn’t call him for anything. Annabeth is the day bartender, and there are a couple of guys who work the weekend shifts. If you need a night off, I’d call them. I’m sure their numbers are in the back office somewhere. Call Annabeth if there is an emergency or you need help. She’s the unofficial manager of this place.”

  “Unofficial?”

  “Yeah, she’s the manager in reality, but Roger doesn’t call her that. He’d have to pay her more if he did.”

  “I’m surprised she’s not here tonight,” I said.

  “Roger probably didn’t even tell her you were starting,” Solomon said.

  “I wonder if I should call her,” I mused.

  “You could. She’s a good person. She’ll come in and help you out if you need it.”

  “Solomon, I think I’m going to try and make it on my own. I’m sure she works enough hours as it is. I’ll call her if I get in a bind tonight.” I hated asking for help. “I can come in tomorrow during the day shift and introduce myself.”

  “Call me Sol. You’re going to do fine around here, Starla. At least Roger left you with a good bartending book. The recipes in there are all solid. Take your time. Most of us locals are easy, but I’m here if anyone gives you trouble. You’ll be an expert at making most of what you need to know in a few days. Occasionally, a tourist will walk in, but they all want froufrou tropical drinks. Those are easy. Booze, mix, ice, and a blender are all you need.”

  “Thanks, Sol.”

  A couple of hours into my shift, a woman with sunny blonde hair walked into the bar. She waved at everyone and they waved back. “Hi, guys.”

  “Hi, Becky,” most of the bar answered back.

  She sat down at the opposite end of the bar from where Sol sat. I was washing a few glasses when Becky came in, so I had to rinse and dry my hands before taking her order.

  “You’re new,” she said before I even reached her.

  “I’m Starla,” I said. “I’ll be the evening bartender during the week from now on.”

  “That’s nice.”

  I could tell right away that Becky’s speech was already slurred. Whatever drink she ordered wouldn’t be her first of the night. Or the day.

  “Can I start you off with a soda, Becky? I’ve heard the mini sausage pizzas are good here. Would you like one?” I knew I was grasping at straws, but I figured she could use a non-alcoholic drink and some food in her stomach. The Blue Saloon had a little pizza oven behind the bar, and Roger had showed me how to use it before he ran off.

  “Vodka rocks,” she said and waved me off.

  I wasn’t sure exactly what to do, so I put a lot of ice in her drink. Becky probably hadn’t driven, there were very few cars on the island other than taxis from what I’d seen, but I didn’t want to be completely overserving people on my first night.

  “She’ll just go to another bar and probably cause problems with the tourists,” Sol said, as if he could read the worry on my face. “Becky is a seasoned drunk. She can handle a
little more. Serve her a couple of those watered-down vodkas and if she doesn’t wander home to sleep it off, I’ll back you up.”

  I nodded to him and took the ice with a splash of vodka to Becky. “Put it on my tab,” she practically growled.

  “On the house. A welcome gift from me,” I said because I felt bad charging her full price for what really was no more than a splash of booze mixed with rapidly melting ice.

  Twenty minutes later, she’d downed a second one and was demanding a double vodka straight. And by demanding, I mean that she’d worked herself up into a tizzy about how weak the drinks I served her, for free, were and how she was going to start breaking things if I didn’t get her a real drink pronto.

  At that point, I figured it was time to cut Becky off.

  “No more tonight, Becky. I’m cutting you off.”

  The look on her face was pure rage. I winced, thinking she was going to jump over the bar and attempt to strangle me. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Sol get out of his seat.

  “I can take my money somewhere else. There are better bars on this island than this pit,” she practically spat at me.

  “You can do that, Becky, but I’d suggest you go home and sleep it off,” I said as gently as possible. I really wished that I could just use magic to pacify her. It would be so easy to put her in a trance and send her on her way, but that was the old days. Now, I had to use human interaction.

  “I ought to clock you. Who do you think you are? I don’t need some outsider coming in here and telling me how to live my life,” she said and eyed the open end of the bar. I knew then that Becky was thinking of coming back behind the bar with me.

  But, to do what? Did she want a physical confrontation? Was she thinking about swiping the bottle of vodka? Surely there was a supermarket on the island where she could just buy a bottle.

  “Becky, go home. I’m the one running this place tonight, and I say you’re cut off. That’s the end of it. Now scram or I’m calling the police.”