Pink and wet.This is my attempt to scam a free drink at the Girl and the Fig…

She sipped, squinted her eyes, sipped again.


She pulled a swath of hair behind her ear, then pronounced that the cucumber cosmo as the G and F was indeed a “spa drink.” The word spa had become her favorite intensifier after that chichi Sonoma shvitz got the hot air out of her head, though she was still steamed at me.

“At ten bucks a pop it better be spa, sister.”

“It’s spa alright, Charlie. And so are you when you’re not doing your shamus routine.”

“Easy, kitten. I’m no shamus. It’s like I told you – I’m a newspaperman on the prowl for the best damn cosmo town,” I said as she traced the rim of her glass with her finger. “So what’s the lowdown?”

“Take a note, pally – Charbay Blood Orange Vodka, the usual mixers, garnished with blood orange and cucumber,” she reported. “And it’s the bees knees, Charlie, a real soak ’em and sock ’em kind of ride. A ‘cucumber cosmopolitan’, who’da thunk?”

The barmaid, had poured the drink big enough to sink a Studebaker. When bright-eyes drained that one, the barmaid winked and poured her another.

“How many sawbucks you gonna swallow?” I asked.

She took a slug: “How many you got?”

The Girl and the Fig