Page 80 of Tequila Tuesdays

Sebastian started making my drink. “Good choice. The rest will put you into a sugar coma.”

“Who’s the guy in the backyard with Martina? She doesn’t look happy,” I asked.

Laurel glanced at Sebastian. “His name’s Iz Nixon. He and Scott own The Cockpit over on Arenas and Indian Canyon Drive.”

“The gay bar with the over-the-top karaoke night and Sunday drag brunch?”

“Yes. That’s the one.”

Sebastian smiled. “The first time Laurel heard Scott and Iz owned The Cockpit, she asked Scott if it had an aviation theme.”

I shrugged. “We do have an airplane museum, and there’s the Marine Corps Air Ground Center in Twentynine Palms.”

Laurel gave Sebastian a disgruntled look. “See? It was a simple mistake.”

“It was sweet, just like you are.” He wrapped his arm around her waist and drew her closer, then kissed her neck.

Laurel curled into him. I was too keyed up and had to look away.

“Martina didn’t look happy out on the patio with him. But she hasn’t ripped his balls off yet. What’s the story?” I asked.

Laurel tugged her ear. “I know a little, but not all of it. Martina’s adamant about not dating until she’s been divorced for at least a year, which was in August.”

Watching them out on the patio, I nodded. “That’s smart. It’s probably not a bad idea to get your head together and give yourself a little time after a breakup or relationship. And it’s better for Iz as well.”

Sebastian glanced at Damien and his mouth flattened, but he didn’t say anything.

Laurel sighed. “Iz has other ideas though.”

There was more to the story, and I could feel a strange undercurrent between Sebastian and Damien.

Sebastian finished shaking my drink and poured it into a chilled glass. Then he cut off a small section of orange rind and lit a match to warm the skin up a bit. I could smell the fragrant oils in the orange rind release as it heated up.

It was a work of liquid art. I picked up the glass, gave Sebastian a toast, and took a sip. A faint hint of cinnamon, and the tart cranberry and tangy orange flavors mixed with the gin.

Damien watched me lick my lips, and his eyelids drooped.

“Holy shit, this isso good.”

Olivia slid into the stool next to me. “See? Shitisan amazing, magically diverse word.”

“Please don’t start. I’m having a transcendent moment here with my drink.” She rolled her eyes, but I simply handed the glass to her.

She took a sip, and her eyes went wide. “Well, damn. Thatisgood.”

On Tuesday during juvenile drug court, Judge Perez reminded the kids to be vigilant during the holiday break.

“The holidays are a fun time, but they’re also stressful. And stress is a trigger for most people. Tell your family and friends if they’re causing you stress. Let them know what triggers you.”

“So if my mom makes me let Aunt Lupita kiss me on the lips, I can tell her having my mean, sweaty, and stinky aunt’s lips on me is a trigger?” Roland asked.

Wendy palmed her forehead, and I bit my tongue.

But Judge Perez answered in a serious tone. “Yes, that could be a trigger.” He looked at my clients. “Some family members behave badly, and sometimes they’re the worst triggers we have.”

Roland leaned back in his chair with a small nod. “Okay.”

Judge Perez pointed at him. “That doesn’t mean you can be disrespectful. But don’t be a people-pleaser if someone makes you uncomfortable. Your family should protect and support you.”

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