Isn’t it just like a woman?
They drank fruity blender drinks, the jets whirred, bubbling furiously.
“Isn’t it cool how we can drink while we’re in the jacuzzi?” she asked.
He nodded. “These go down like water,” he said, thinking, I wish she would.
“Plus, the sky’s the limit. We don’t have to drive.” She was so eager, like their neighbors’ Labrador back in Cooperstown.
He looked at his hand holding the yellowish-orange beverage. “We’ve been in here so long my skin is wrinkling.” He stuck his nose into his drink to rid himself of the noxious fumes from the jacuzzi.
“Your skin is wrinkled whether we’re in the jacuzzi or not.”
“Ha ha, you should talk. Your nose looks like the Pink Panther.”
They laughed. Kissed. Laughed some more. The intensity of the Miami sun swallowed them. He collapsed against the side of the tub, watching surfers ride waves, joggers on the beach. I’m gonna get plowed, he thought. The water felt so restorative, he felt like Gumbi. Ah, this is the life.
She said, “When’s the last time you saw Luanne?”
He turned, threw her a look. “You really wanna get into this now?” He stepped out of the tub, sat on the side. Couldn’t look at her.
“I’m just asking,” she shrugged, throwing back the rest of her mango margarita.