[Complete] Ariel and the Bandits

5 - F the Free Agency

It's the Casillas family parties that built the foundation of my coffee tolerance. During the summer, when my mom's family gathered in California for a celebration, the parties didn't end when the music died down. The summer night breeze called for a fresh brew of coffee and three dozen classic Randy's Donuts. The steam from the cups drew us in along with the strong bitterness the adults didn't want to share with us.

My sisters, cousins, and I always asked for un café. They always gave us milk with a tiny splash of coffee. It wasn't enough for us to taste it, but enough to tint the milk. My cousin Barbara used to drag me into the kitchen, make me her lookout, and poured more coffee into our cups. My Tio Beto, Barbara's dad, caught us the first time and said: "Don't forget the sugar or creamer" before sneaking another donut into his mouth.

When our Tia Betty caught us, she ratted us out. She went on and on about first they'll be addicted to caffeine, and then it'll be some other kind of drug.

Abuelita Luz then told my Tia Betty she shouldn't try mandating what we drink when she can't control her habits. I had never seen someone toss a cup of coffee so fast.

I realize now she must have either spiked her coffee or poured herself some dark coffee-passing alcohol.

In that sense, Tia Betty would enjoy a place like Blüdhaven: the sanctimonious place that marries coffee and alcohol.

The Blüdhaven Brewery and Cafe is one of my favorite little spots to get away from my life for a little while. I'd usually bring my computer, sit in a corner, put on my headphones, drink a coffee or a beer depending on the mood or stress levels, and edit some of my photos.

"This place is nice," Luke says.

I forget what it's like to walk in here for the first time. There is a minimal superhero theme to Blüdhaven. It's subtle, but it's there. The bottom halves of the walls are modern with black panel moldings, as the top halves are white with black polka dots adorned with grayscale images of our beloved city and monuments. A local artist painted the cityscape of Boston in the comic book style for the photo-op wall. A neon blue "Blüdhaven" sign hangs center on the wall.

I haven't taken a photo there yet, but maybe I should.

"The girl making drinks at the bar staring at us," Liam says. "Or at least I hope she is."

Jake snorts a laugh. "A lot of people stare. Comes with the job."

At the bar, Elvi does nifty tricks with a bottle of what looks like rum. Elvi smiles and waves us over as the bottle is up in the air.

"That's Elvi," I say. I wave back.

Liam blinks a couple of times. "Oliver, you didn't say how beautiful she was," he takes a deep breath and mumbles his words: "Absolutely gorgeous."

"I said she was pretty."

"It's the understatement of the freaking century," Liam comments. He gives his hair a good rake and brushes the back of his honey-blond hair as if it makes a difference to his image. Which it does, in his defense. It looks nice.

Liam hasn't been this excited about a girl since his last serious relationship. And it's been a while since that was a thing. Not that he didn't want a relationship, he just didn't have the best of luck.

"I could introduce you to her," I offer. "You know, be your wingman and all."

"Maybe an introduction, but you know you don't need all that. After all, I know how to flirt with a girl," he winks.

"Please." I roll my eyes. "If I had a dollar for every time you tried to flirt with someone and it didn't go as planned, I'd make more of a living off of you than I'd make from football."