By David Rolland
By David Rolland
By Liz Tracy
By Liz Tracy
By Rebecca Bulnes
By Falyn Freyman
By Fire Ant
By Alex Rendon
"I don't think — " I began.
"But — I'll tell you what," she said. "I wouldn't mind getting one of those dark, tanned hotties into bed."
"As long as she didn't have to talk to him," joked JoJo.
"You don't want to speak Spanish, but you have no problem taking a hot one to bed?" I asked.
"Ha," she said. "He doesn't even have to be hot."
We laughed. Oh, diversity is beautiful.
Drink specials: I scampered back to my table and found that Beard had learned of a Sunday drink special — a mixture of Panama Jack coconut rum and pineapple juice for only $5. One word — delicious. I guzzled it faster than you could say lush and couldn't feel one iota of the so-familiar sting that usually accompanies a good, stiff drink. When the drinks are so fruity you don't know you're getting drunk — that's how to tell you're on vacation.
"It's deceptively strong," Beard cautioned without looking up. He was flipping through a poolside dining menu (the Lakeside Grill served wings, sandwiches, salads, and appetizers).
"Like I can't handle it," I snapped.
Then I stood quickly, staggered slightly, and suddenly became acutely aware of the Justin Timberlake elevator-muzak remix pouring from the DJ booth. Also, the young son of the blond lady in the corset top seemed to have commandeered the entire booth; he was wearing the headphones and staring at the equipment thoughtfully. It was weird.
Seconds later, I was leaning over the marble-faced bar. I noted that Shelly was now talking to the guys in board shorts who had wandered in earlier.
"I need another one of those pineapple things," I told the bartender. "It's imperative. Meanwhile, what's going on here today?"
"We have a pool party every Sunday," Laurie said. "We get a lot of locals, and it's great to do it right here on the water so people can dock their boats. A lot of the people who come actually live around the lake."
I watched her slowly mix the Panama Jack pineapple concoction. Then she slid it my way. I had half of it down before I even made it back to my seat. Beard smiled but ignored me, so I looked for the next available hottie.
Swim: Chris had a long, lean face, chiseled shoulders, and tattoos covering most of his visible skin.
"This is my first Sunday here," he said. He'd been drinking at the bar with his buddies for quite some time now. "It's pretty kick-ass, I suppose."
"Well, I expected there'd be more..." He let his gaze drop slightly. "People our age."
"You mean babes in bikinis," I corrected with a grin.
"Well, that never hurts," he said.
"Got any other opinions?" I asked.
He hesitated. "Can you quote me saying 'kick-ass' in your little story?"
He pulled off his shirt. "Wanna swim with me?"
"OK," I shrugged. I had on a hot-pink bikini that was just dying to get wet.
Fact: No minivacation's ever complete without shirtless dudes, some girl talk, blatant flirting, a refreshing dip in a hotel pool, and enough rum to ensure that at some point, someone is going to have to give me mouth-to-mouth resuscitation.