What "Logan Curse"?

Shenanigans Ensue

Sitting at the bar, Jackie has already downed a few drinks - what a surprise - and Sam is utterly befuddled at Clyde and his uncanny resemblance to an actor that we all have a bit of a thing for.

Hannah, I now notice, is also giving Clyde a look that thoroughly confuses me.

I gotta get the story behind this look TONIGHT...

"You're the designated driver again, aren't ya?" I hear Clyde ask as I'm leaning on the bar counter in thought. I startle slightly at his deep voice.

"Yeah, but I don't mind." I say with a smile and a shrug.

I glance over at Jackie, who has proceeded to dance her way over to the jukebox, drink in hand.

"Here..." Clyde says, pushing a margarita my way. I hadn't been paying attention.

"I didn't ask for one, though...?" I reply, confused.

Clyde half smiles, shaking his head. "You didn't need to. I made it real mild fer ya." He adds, giving me a slight wink. I can't help but crack a smitten smile at him.

Damn his southern charm...

I take a sip. Sweet, just the way I like it. Can barely taste the alcohol in it - PERFECTION.

All of the sudden, the subtle country music playing over the speakers changes and gets turned up. I look back to the jukebox as "Booty Wurk" by T-Pain starts to make the speakers boom.

I glance over at Clyde, who has his back turned helping another patron. He stops briefly while pouring a drink to look up, realize the music changed, and roll his eyes while shaking his head, clearly not enthused.

Jackie has her hands in the air, her drink sloshing in the glass - and spilling out a little - as she shakes her hips to the beat.

Hannah shrieks, making her way over to Jackie. They go back to back and shake their hips, dropping down and shimmying up again. Sam sets down her glass to cheer, whooping and clapping.

I look on, cheering them on and enjoying seeing the fun. I'd join in, but I haven't quite wound down yet.

Sam scoots over to me with her glass, "Would you watch my drink for me? I'm going to join them!" she shouts over the music.

I nod and mouth "of course" to her and she's off, swinging her hips and dancing her way over to the others. Some other people in the bar join the fun.

Smiling, I sip my margarita and watch my girls getting down with their bad selves.

I am suddenly distracted, noticing now out of the corner of my eye, Clyde preparing a cocktail with his one hand.

He tosses the bottle in the air, does a quick turn and catches it with the same hand to upend it and pour it in a glass. He throws in a cube of ice with some flair and adds a dash or two of some other alcohol that I don't know the name of.

He then slams the two glasses together to shake them. His arm flexing and muscles bulging, I can't help but be transfixed. His prosthetic hand, which he has behind his back the entire time, never budges.

He grabs the strainer and pours the drink into a glass for the customer, scooting it towards them. They clap and give him a tip, cracking a pleased smile as they take a swig.

I see the twinkling of pride in Clyde's face as he does a nonchalant half-bow to the applause, suddenly turning around to see the crowd dancing. I chuckle as his expression changes; he looks like his worst nightmare came true.

"She's a pain in your ass, isn't she?" I shout to him over the music. He cuts his eyes to me, then back at the crowd, where you can see Jackie doing body rolls and getting down and dirty.