Sabrina smiled. “I guess so.”
Just then came a voice from around her shoulder. “May I bring you some drinks?” A young man stood in the aisle staring down at them. Sabrina wanted to reach up and fix the hat that looked unintentionally slanted diagonally on his head.
“Do you happen to have a menu?” Marco asked.
The man reached into his back pocket, removed a laminated drink menu and handed it to Marco as if the action annoyed him. “There’s also one right there.
” He bobbed his head toward a menu sitting on the table a few seats down.
Sabrina continued to survey the stadium while Marco skimmed the menu.
“Two Malibu Dreamsicles,” he said, handing the menu back to the man standing in the aisle.
Sabrina’s head spun to face Marco and she looked at him, waiting to speak until the attendant left.
“What did you just order?” she asked.
“Something called a Malibu Dreamsicle.” He shrugged and grinned. “I've never tasted one before, but it sounded interesting. Have you ever had one?”
“Can’t say that I have,” Sabrina said. “But I won’t be starting now! I hope you planned on drinking both of those.”
“What? Why?” Marco seemed genuinely surprised.
“Because I’m on the job,” Sabrina explained. “It would be unprofessional.”
“No, it would not,” Marco corrected her. “We have already talked at length about this. I gave you a new list of responsibilities.”
“So?” Sabrina crossed her arms.
“So, as part of those responsibilities, you agreed to be my company on the trip,” he said. “What kind of company makes their friend drink alone?”
“A friend who doubles as an employee,” said Sabrina.
“Fair enough. But right now, your boss is ordering you to join him with a drink,” Marco said, and right on cue the attendant returned carrying two glasses with bright orange liquid. He picked them both up and held one out for her to take.
Sabrina took the glass with two hands as if it were some sort of chalice used exclusively for royalty. She sighed.
“What is this thing?” Sabrina asked, watching Marco stir the orange concoction around with a straw.
“A Malibu Dreamsicle,” he said matter-of-factly, and sipped from his glass. “Remember?”
“Right, but what is it?” Sabrina studied the drink in her hand, still hesitant to give it a try.
Marco sipped again and reached for the laminated menu in front of him. “It says its Malibu Orange Float Rum, Whipped Vodka, fresh orange juice and club soda.”
“Sounds intense,” she said. She looked doubtfully at the drink. She wasn't much of a drinker, but then again, she’d never really been offered much beyond cheap beer and an occasional pull of whiskey from her father’s flask. She’d certainly never had a drink prepared the way this one was.
“Give it a try,” Marco urged, taking a sip. “It's actually quite good.”
“What’s it taste like?” Sabrina hesitated. If this was anything like whiskey, there was no way she'd be able to drink it.
“Just try it,” he said. “It tastes even more magnificent than it looks.”
Sabrina sipped her glass, feeling the cold ice against her lips and the liquid pool in her mouth. With her tongue she pushed it into a stream down her throat and paused, waiting for the burn.
But it never came. The drink was sweet and pleasant.
“Do you like it?” Marco asked.