Robert went over to the bar near the east bank of windows in the living room. It was the cocktail hour, right? A little Bloody Mary had never done him any harm. He pulled out the Stoli, the shaker, then made his way into the kitchen to gather up pickled, spicy green beans, V-8, and jars of Tabasco, Worcestershire, and horseradish. If you’re gonna do it, do it right.
He began throwing the ingredients for the Bloody Mary into the cocktail shaker, swirling the metal cup around with each addition. He didn’t want to think. And it was more the preparation of the drink than the alcohol, itself, that would help him escape. It was what he had always done. If it wasn’t a fancy drink, it was a fancy meal. Speaking of which, wouldn’t some guacamole go great with the Bloody? I think there are some avo
