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Charlene pulled yet another pair of her husband’s underwear out of the dryer.
She should probably do laundry more often, she thought. It wasn’t a chore she ever looked forward to. She reached back in and grabbed a t-shirt, snapping the wrinkles out with such force her bracelet pinched the skin on her wrist. “Damn! That’s going to leave a mark.” Charlene looked at the t-shirt as if it were the culprit. Displayed prominently on the front in bold red script was…. I have the right to remain silent… but, I don’t have the ability. She loved that quote from the great Ron White! It always made her laugh! She remembered why she gave that shirt to Bob. The quote certainly fit him well. Bob always wore his feelings on his sleeve… an attribute that was at once, both admirable and offensive. As Charlene paired what seemed like hundreds of socks, the mundane task gave wings to her swirling memories…
…It was a gorgeous summer day and several friends were at the neighbor’s house enjoying their swimming pool. It wasn’t a large pool, mind you – an above ground – not like those lavish pools in the photos shown in magazines at the beauty parlor. But, still, it was a pool and all the neighbors appreciated that they could share it. The ladies were all lounging in the shade, keeping one eye on their swimming kids and one eye on their men playing horseshoes in the backyard.
The men were a raucous bunch when they got together. And now, after hours in the sun, drinking beer, it seemed they decided it was time to have a pissing match.
“My Harley can out run your rice-burner any day of the week!”
“Oh ya? Let’s put that to the test… I’ll take you out of the hole, in the short run and at high end every time!”
“Bullshit! That Japanese crap is lame!”
“Your Harley junk isn’t worth the oil it leaks!”
The guys were inching towards each other, not even realizing it. Soon they were gathered around in somewhat of a circle. This was very interesting for the women to watch. The men were never violent, never took swings at each other – they were buddies, after all – but this ongoing argument about the virtues and pitfalls of American vs. Japanese motorcycles was always an emotional topic.
“Beer Break!”, someone yelled. That was a welcome relief. The guys all started laughing and headed to the cooler under the maple tree.
“You know what, Bob? You should just keep your mouth shut when Joe goads you into that same shit. You know his bike isn’t even running right now.”
“Ya, I know, but if he’d get off his lazy ass and go to work every now and again, maybe he could afford to hire a mechanic to fix it for him.” Bob bent down and grabbed a beer from the cooler. The icy sting on his hands, rough from playing horseshoes all day, came as a welcome relief. When he stood up, he saw Joe standing right behind him. It was obvious from the pained look on his face, that Joe heard every word of his cruel comment.
“Aw, Joe, you know I didn’t mean it when I said that you were lazy. I’m just all riled up from you yankin’ my chain. You know how I get when you start rappin’ on my Jap bike. Tell you what… why don’t I come over Saturday and help you work on that lump of a Harley, of yours? You know, get it runnin’ and all.”
The washing machine buzzer jolted Charlene out of her reverie. She realized that she was standing there smiling to herself. Bob is such a kind soul, he would do anything for anybody. Sometimes he just can’t rein in his thoughts before the words come out.
Charlene folded the rest of the laundry and headed to the kitchen. At that moment, the mudroom door opened and Bob came walking in, hands still greasy from working on Joe’s bike. Charlene, filled with warmth at his kindness towards Joe, greeted him with a hug and a kiss.
“C’mon, baby, it’s time for HAPPY HOUR. I’ll fix your favorite…”
Monkey Wrench
Fill a rocks glass with ice.
2 oz. Rum or Orange Rum
Fill with Grapefruit Juice.
Enjoy!
“How does one get to Vineyard Road?”
The question was simple enough, he thought. Not nearly as complicated as seeing her naked. But, of course, she didn’t know he saw her alone, swimming freely when she assumed no one could see.
He at once blushed and felt a rise in his jeans. She calmly pretended not to notice and repeated the question… “Is Vineyard Road far from here?”
How could Lorenzo stand there and explain to this most magnificent woman that Vineyard Road was what seemed like a parallel universe? A figment of the imagination to those whose heads were filled with pragmatic things. Things such as applications for their i-phone or how to increase consumer traffic by using their Twitter account. He wondered if she were one of those people.
Yet, here she was ~ asking for Vineyard Road. Someone must have mentioned it to her. It certainly didn’t just pop up on her GPS. And if she Googled it, the coinciding map would not have brought her here.
No. This beautiful woman, with her auburn hair piled high on her head and her lithe body, toned from swimming… again he felt his jeans pulling tighter at the memory… this woman was different. He could tell. Standing in front of him was an experienced woman. One filled with a sense of adventure and maybe even, a touch of wanderlust. Perhaps Lorenzo could share the secret with her. She would be most welcome at Vineyard Road. Hmmm….
Claire stood watching this seemingly gentle man with his muscular stomach and dark skin. He was so evidently struggling with his thoughts… and composure. Perhaps he had seen her swimming that morning? She rarely wore a suit, she swam so early in the day. The property was well protected from the prying eyes of any neighboring villas. But, perhaps, indeed she misjudged the schedules of the work crew. Tomorrow, she would try to remember to put on a bathing suit for her daily swim.
She was enjoying her summer vacation immensely. And when she overheard the locals talking amongst themselves about the great fun they had the night before at some enchanted destination, she became increasingly curious. She and Aiden loved a good time! It was that love that brought them here, to this gorgeous property, for their 3 month holiday.
Claire tried yet again to inquire about Vineyard Road.
Lorenzo, standing against the backdrop of a red/orange sunset, black eyes boring hot into her very flesh, decided… yes… he could share the secret with her. “Vineyard Road, my Lady, is just a cocktail away.”
“Find your husband and come with me. We can explore together, the magical place awaits. Let us travel where there is only unadulterated, narcissistic pleasures. No work load … No bambini’s… No time clocks… No worries! Kick off your heels, let your husband loosen his tie and come to Vineyard Road… where we will celebrate together… THE HAPPY HOUR!”
We’ll start with our signature Martini ~
He Said...She Said...