Lucky Break by J. Minter

Author:J. Minter
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Bloomsbury USA Childrens
Published: 2009-03-24T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 13

A NOT-SO-THAI-RIFFIC TURN OF EVENTS

I need seventy-two jumbo paper lanterns, with the energy-saving lightbulbs, and I need them delivered now.”

There was the sister I knew and loved! When I stepped into the long open bar on the top floor of the Oriental Hotel, I was greeted by Feb, pacing the hardwood floor on her phone. She was still the same girl—she’d just been hiding under that organically woven paper bag of a dress for the past few days.

She’d sent me an urgent text to meet her at the hotel at four-thirty on Wednesday afternoon. The fast was just about over, and we were all gearing up for the big party she was throwing to honor a good monsoon week on the rice marsh. Quite a change from the parties she used to host in honor of a friend’s movie premiere or club opening, but a party nonetheless. I was excited just to be out on the town and spending some nonyoga time with my sister. But I was also very excited that the party was being held at the city’s swank Oriental Hotel. It had been around forever, and over the years had seen all of Thailand’s glitterati spin through its golden doors.

Speaking of spinning, Feb was starting to make me dizzy with all her pacing back and forth.

“Feb, can I—”

“Flan, I haven’t eaten in seventy-two hours and fourteen minutes and Idon’tevenknowhowmanyseconds. I really can’t deal with—”

“I was just going to ask if I could help with anything for the party,” I jumped in before she said something she regretted.

Feb paused, snapped her phone shut, and said, “Actually, there is something you can do.”

Before I knew it, she had led me into the walk-in fridge in the large gleaming hotel kitchen. She stopped in front of six boxes full of coconuts and six boxes of the biggest, ripest mangos I’d ever seen in my life.

“Ouch,” I said, when Feb slapped my hand after I reached into the box to examine one of the fantastically pink pieces of fruit.

“Look, don’t touch,” Feb said brusquely. “They’re for tonight. Ugh, I’ve got a million things to do,” she said, looking down at her PDA, which looked so out of place in her henna-tattooed hand. “Let’s see. We have to have a signature cocktail. You can come up with something on the fly, right?”

It was a good thing I wasn’t holding a mango, because I would have dropped it. “Me? Bartending?”

“Not bartending,” she said, sounding only slightly impatient. “Bar inspiring. Isn’t that what you do? Patch mentioned something you whipped up for some Thoney party….”

Camille and I had concocted a really delicious Virgiltini for January’s Virgil event. And my friends always said that I made the best acai spritzers (the secret was to line the rim of the glass with real dried acai berries crushed with sugar). But I’d never stopped to think about the fact that I actually had a gift for concocting delicious and refreshing drinks. I loved that Feb made it sound like cocktail commander was my obvious terrain.

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