I kind of feel like a tourist in a strange bar, having a drink as palm leaf fans spin loudly above me. The weather there is extremely hot as well but unlike Los Angeles there is a breeze from the ocean which is only blocks away. I
am having a drink with an old friend of mine who is visiting the island. He has been here for about a week now and had several late nights together with booze and cigarettes but we do care for each other romantically. At least I do not care for him perhaps he cares for me. In the mornings as I get dressed I think he watches me out of the corner his eye as I apply my perfume. This moment is innocent though as if he is only concerned with appreciating my presence and not trying to take anything from me or from us. Anyway, it's hot and we are drinking rum to sweat and so that we might feel a little bit better. Several days of hangover mornings has left us in a bad mood. We need to sweat all of this booze out and start anew. Far too many mornings of this and we are going to depart from each other quite happily. The plans for the day include drinking until noon and then going over to the stadium to watch the game. The soccer match starts around 12:30 so our meander through the nice palms will allow us to not feel rush and to not get there early. I do not like showing up early to any event whether I know the crowd or not. Right on time. As we were drinking and indulging in some old story teller, the bar tender walked over to me and laid a bright white envelope in front of me. Remember I am drunk and stoned in a new bar and as I reached for the letter I am more than a little bit paranoid about the contents. I flip open the letter carefully as to keep from ripping anything inside.
A pale yellow card addressed to Jacqueline Alvarez. It had been a long time since anyone had used my married name in correspondence. Startled I quickly turned over the card: Mr. Hughes called and asked that you meet him at the B entrance to the soccer stadium.
Mr. Hughes?
I knew a girl in high school back in Indiana whose last name was Hughes but we had a falling out years ago and I can't imagine anyone related to her would be here. I looked at the clock, it was only 10:30AM. I looked to my friend, Anthony and explained to him the contents of the letter. He seemed only mildly interested to hear about this correspondence. I looked closer at the card as I explained to Anthony. The pale yellow was striking. I don't normally use stationary but I do love the special feeling of having occasions when it is proper to use the good stuff. This was the good stuff. Rich.
I called the bar tender and asked for a rum cannonball. The sugar in the drink should get me straight again and I can think about this letter without all the trappings of dope. An early game of soccer is on the small tv to the right of the bar. I try to focus on the game. Antonio Verdugo is playing this game and he is a good player. Although not one of the tougher players on the field. I prefer Zach Bowersoz. He has a grace that Verdugo lacks.
