Salvador found himself on Coronado beach, a forty minute drive from San Juan. It was a bright sunny day and he was here with his buddy, Tony the Shoe, and a few of the guys. They were all camped out with a few beers at the Bolas Quemadas beach bar just across the little track from the beach.
Salvador turned to check the big bamboo calendar clock thing on the wall at the back behind the bar. His throbbing head, his f*****g still throbbing head, really didn’t like moving in this way. Apart from the blues band due here tomorrow and a generous happy hour planned between 7-9pm tonight, this was the day the guys had all come here a few months ago. Salvador hadn’t been able to come because he had a deadline but he was here now. He remembered the guys talking about this day as possibly one of the
