Clink. Swirl. Clink. Never drink alone, sweetie. “I’m not alone, Mom. Isn’t that what you always said? As long as you’re alive and kicking, no matter where you are, I’m not alone.” He raised the celebratory glass of Patrón to his lips and sipped. “Great news.” Swirl. Clink. Tequila on ice with a slice of jalapeno for spice… Chaz stopped swirling and stared at the little ring of green, with a seed clinging to it, resting atop one of his ice cubes, just lying there, drenched in chilled liquor. Too many people didn’t bother getting acquainted with tequila. They gulped it in a single shot, holding their breath like a kid eating something disgusting. Sip it like cognac, sweetie. “I know, Mom.” Once, he’d ignored her cool headed advice, traded shots with wild abandon, when he was tired of pretending he didn’t know what he wanted and needed an excuse. Sprocket. “Stupid name.” Turned out, just as he’d hoped, what the song said was true. Tequila did make your clothes fall off…and lead to things more wild, crazy, and fun than dancing on tables and starting fights.
