2019-07-01 - Mow-Hee-Toes

It's a quiet Sunday night on Oak Street, but at 23 Oak Street, the party is jumpin' jumpin'. Okay, so not exactly, but there's 'tunes going on outside (Graham picked the music) and the kitchen's got all sorts of delightful smells happening. It's too nice of a night to eat inside, so Elise has set up the patio table to eat out there; the screen door between the kitchen and the back porch is open so that people can come and go as they please. There's an assortment of drinks available, and since Graham is a "bartender," he's been tasked with making drinks.

Elise is, currently, perched on a chair with one of Graham's drinks in hand, looking pretty in a short-skirt sundress and her hair up in a messy bun. "Could you've made this any stronger?" she quirks a brow Graham's way after sniffing all the alcohol that's in her "mixed" drink. "If he breaks out the cards and starts saying we play Indian Poker, I suggest everybody run," she laughs.

It must be Graham's 'Andre is in the Car' playlist, 'cause it's all pop music. Bruno Mars, Ariana Grande, most of it super-peppy or possibly all breathy-girly-romantic stuff. But there are definitely some weird one-offs in there, and the transition between Taylor Swift being all "I'll write your name" and Metallica like "EXIT LIGHT, ENTER NIGHT" is pretty jarring. Jarring enough that even Graham stops for a second and listens, head cocked. "A'ight, well, that's why I'm not the DJ."

He's been nice enough to retreat to downwind of everyone while he smokes, though it does little good when he reaches across the table to grab for Elise's drink, sampling it with a contemplative taste. "You're a light-weight is the problem, baby. Drink and quit complaining. That's what a mojito is supposed to taste like." Mow-hee-toe. He's awesome at languages. (At least it wasn't mow-gee-toe?)

"I'm just saying, Graham, it takes a Cubano to make a real, proper mojito, but I'm willing to let you give it the old college try." Julia calls out from the kitchen. She seems to approve of the music, even singing along to some of the pop tunes. There might be some dancing while she spices and stirs and points Ignacio toward what to chop. "And I can be all the things you told me not to be, yuh. When you try to come for me, I keep on flourishing, yuh. And he see the universe when I'm the company, it's all in me..." The best part of arroz con pollo is that it can all go into one pot, and Graham and Elise should have leftovers for a few days. "Give the rice another stir, would you, 'Nacio?" The request is made in Spanish, adding, "Elise, it should be ready soon, you wanna set up the table." Folks gotta work for it, okay?

"Mmmhmmm," Elise says critically of Graham, eyeing him from over the rim of her mow-hee-toe, but she drinks it anyway. Nice, ladylike sips, because she said the other day that she was quitting alcohol for good. There might be a big swallow, though, when Julia says it's time to set up the table, and she hops to her feet to do just that. "How's the business holding up anyway, Julia? I keep meaning to go down there more often, but between the hospital and dad and .. other stuff.. I just haven't had a lot of me time," she gives Graham a hip-bump as she passes by him.

"That's discrimination," the white dude says of Cubans and mojito-making. "I am a licensed bartender." He says it with completely believable conviction! "Which makes me the most qualified person in the yard to be mixing mojitos." And why he will continue sitting in his chair while Elise sets the table and other people make the food: he is not a licensed table-setter or food-cooker. He is also a licensed Elise-kisser, so he catches her around the waist briefly and makes her stop and kiss him and his cigarette-y mouth, she's such a lucky lady. Then he shuts up, so he can hear the whole thing about the business and finish his cigarette while Metallica serenades them all.

"Tell you what, you make one for my abuelita and if she approves, you pass. But in the meantime, I'm willing to accept your best effort." Julia tilts back so she's visible from the doorway so she can grin at Elise. "He's sensitive," she remarks mildly, clearing just being a bit of a jerk for the pleasure of it. Still, she's a jerk who's making them a snazzy dinner. Looking back to Igancio, she makes a vague gesture at him, and as before, addresses him in Spanish. "Give it a taste, tell me if we need to add more cilantro? If we're good, we can fish out the bay leaves and call it ready."

"You know you can't discriminate against white boys," Elise bats her lashes at Graham, and she makes some 'ew gross' noises when he gets all kissy-faced at her, but she doesn't exactly fight him off. She just makes the noise and kisses him back. "But oh, that sounds like a challenge. The abuelita," she wags her brows at Graham. "Almost as difficult to please as my mother." She escapes him to finish up with the table-setting, and then pokes her head into the kitchen. "You need any help, or is your sous chef holding down the fort well enough?"

The music stops for a second, because Graham is like, "Hey Siri, what does 'abuelita' mean?" And Siri tells everyone, through the speaker that's supposed to be playing music, "Okay, I found this." And he's frowning at his phone after Elise moves off, extremely confused.

Because if you ask Siri what 'abuelita' means, she tells you that she found a webpage about hot chocolate packets.

The music comes back on, at least, so now they're all listening to Katy Perry being a Dark Horse~. Also, he crushes out his cigarette, leans back in his chair, folds his arms, and calls toward the kitchen, where everyone including Elise has gone and left him alone in the yard, "Hey, what's abuelita mean? 'Cause I think Siri's discriminating against me, too."

Julia lets out a cackle. "It means grandmother. She's from Cuba, and she lives with the family." Things seem to be in order for the meal, and so the pot is taken off the burner. As she fishe out the bay leaves, she offers Elise a kinder smile. "Don't worry about it, chica. And I totally get it. The shack's doing good, Mom gave me the run of the place, at least. My sister helps with the books, and the insurance lets us have a homecare nurse. We're managing."

Elise leaves Julia to answer Graham, but she hasn't abandoned him considering she's just leaning into the doorway. "That's really good. I looked into the home care nurse for my dad but their insurance didn't cover it," she frowns, giving her head a little shake. And since Julia's okay in the kitchen, she flounces back outside to keep Graham from getting too lonely, perching on his knee while she reaches for her drink again. "I'm thinking about telling mom to sell the motel. At least we could get some money out of it, and she's really getting too old to be taking care of it by myself. She won't let me help though," and that makes her frown into her mow-hee-toe. "It's probably going to be a big argument. And result in her finding some more 'suitors' from Church for me to date."

"You want me to get your gramma drunk?" Graham frowns about it a little bit, like this is a first for him, but what he doesn't do? Is decline the possibility. He just eases into a nod like 'all right, sign him up,' and continues leaning back with his arms crossed, staring off into the middle distance for a while (to think about getting hammered with his mental picture of Julia's gramma). He comes back to the here-and-now in due time to have an Elise perched on his knee, and he helps make sure she doesn't fall with the arms all around her waist. Also, as long as everyone else is still in the kitchen, he's being inappropriately handsy out here. Till she talks about selling the hotel, and ahem. "You might wanna walk that one back a little bit, baby." FOR NO REASON, GUYS, EVERYTHING IS FINE.

"My abuelita can drink you under the table, smoke a cigar while she does it, and then teach you the rumba." Julia informs Graham, smirking. Looking back to Elise, "Does she not know about Graham? Or does she just not approve of him? Any reason you shouldn't sell the hotel? Can you invest the profit from selling? I bet you could find some corporation that could give you a nice bit of green."

Elise casts a look over her shoulder to Graham, a slim brow lofting. The look she levels upon him is of concern, but she doesn't approach the conversation yet. "Oh, she knows about him," she says instead to Julia, frowning around a mouthful of mojito. "I took him to dinner the other night. But she's rather determined to shack me up with some Asian somebody-or-another, she's got a nearly endless list of them," she sighs. "As for the hotel, it's not mine. I don't even know if they are giving it to me in the will, to be honest. They hardly ever want me to even go down there."

Yeah, they'll just talk about that later. Graham leaves what he said as all he'll say, turning on the high-beam smile; he's very pretty, why would anyone even bother listening to him when they can just look at him?! "See? I'm being discriminated against all over." He quits molesting Elise long enough to get out his phone and screw with it for a minute, cutting off whatever song they were just listening to so he can make the speaker play a little "Rockin' the Suburbs."

He'll just be over here, singing, "Y'all don't know what it's like, being male, middle-class and white." While attractive women of varying ethnicities bring food to the table for him in the backyard of the house where he lives rent-free. His life is just so rough, guys.

"My heart bleeds for you." Julia laughs. "Okay. Food coming to the table, and then we can talk about the shiny sparklies. I'll answer what I can, okay Elise?"