Mind Games and Million Dollar Margaritas

The waiter's voice sounded muffled underneath his mask.

I’ve been here 1000 times, so lucky for me I knew exactly what I was ordering. I scanned the menu anyway, I needed something to get me twisted. It’s been a long work week, this was my hump day treat.

“I’ll have the million dollar margarita,” I stated.

“What’s the difference between that and a regular margarita?” Avail asked.

“This one has Don Julio.”

“Okay… so we’re doing top shelf?”

I just smiled back because of course. What else would we be doing?

Thanks to my first book, I’m still in celebratory mode. I don’t know when I won’t be if I’m being completely honest. We ordered two million dollar margaritas, and the waiter went away to put our order in.

“Ok, so what’s up with couch surfer?” I asked genuinely interested in this girl he claimed to be interested in, but was also turning his place into an upgraded version of a homeless shelter. I believed he deserved better but I kept that to myself.

“You won’t believe this, but she finally got her own spot!” He exclaimed.

“Whatttt!” I said surprised that she was able to get on her feet, she seemed like this would just be her way of life. These were my assumptions based solely on the stories Avail shared. I haven’t met the girl once. 

A piece of me wanted to see pictures of the girl, putting a visual element to what I’ve heard. I wondered if she was pretty or if she had the personality of a lifetime for him to put up with something like that.

“I know right, I’m actually proud.”

“ Are you seeing anyone now?” 

“Not really, all my options are pretty lame.” 

We were definitely in the same boat. Tinder was beyond dead and my Hinge messages were entering zombieland status.

For some reason no one was taking the bait these days and I don’t know why. I guess it wasn’t my season.

“Literally same.”

“I don’t know, I guess I’m not really looking for anything either, but still these girls are lame.”

I laughed, it echoed against the brick walls of the outdoor space of  La Cantina Grill.

“Damn, I hope some boy isn’t at on a patio somewhere saying these things to someone about me.”

“They’re not.”

I smirked.

“Two million dollar margaritas.” Our waiter arrived with two lime margaritas on the rocks.

A lot of work was still left to do, and this was the closest I was getting to a vacation.

- An excerpt from a journal entry written on 8/26/20