Lola
The following week, were opened the Blue Orchid. But no matter how hard we tried, it was pitiful. Lunch was a disaster, and I watched forlornly from behind the bar. We’d had to take the bottles off the shelf, and it looked bare and empty from the front door.
Dinner was no better.
“I’m sorry,” said Cherise, “but we’re not serving alcohol tonight.”
“Oh,” said the guy at the door. “It’s my wife’s birthday. We were kind of hoping to drink. Maybe another time, though.”
The next people who came by were a family.
“Hi there!” said Cherise cheerfully.
But when she explained to them, the wife and the husband looked at one another.
“You know,” they said, “on second thoughts, we’ll go somewhere else. But thanks.”
Cherise turned and looked at me.
“It’s hopeless,” she said.
We sat fiftee
