Page 15 of Calamity Rayne Over the Moon

“Key West is great. We vacation there with friends every fall. We call our little club the Upside-Down-Pineapples.”

“Oh, that’s…nice,” I said, unsure if that was important information for me to have.

“Why the pineapples?” Hale asked.

“When you know, you know,” Bob said, shooting me an exaggerated wink.

I guess I didn’t know. Still, I didn’t want to appear unfriendly so I said, “I love pineapples! They’re one of my favorite snacks.”

Bob grinned. “I bet you got a real sweet tooth, don’t you, Rayne?”

“You know it.”

I glanced at Judy, who was face-planting in her cocktail. She didn’t look interested in anything her husband was saying so I looked at the other couple. “And your names?”

“This is Laura and I’m Norbert.”

I snapped my mouth shut. Did he say his name was Norbert? I could not be around people with silly names and Norbert was a name of a chubby headliner in a comic strip.

This time Hale didn’t bail me out. He knew a name like that would kill me, and no matter how composed he appeared I sensed him laughing at me on the inside. Bastard. I’d show him that I could hold a conversation like a sophisticated adult.

“So…Norbert—” I swallowed back a laugh. “What do you do for a living?”

“I’m a minister of merriment.”

Uh-oh. I ignored the giggles building in my stomach. “And what is that, exactly?”

Norbert grinned. “Well, I own my own business, so technically I’m the Jester-in-Chief or Head Honcho of Hilarity. Hey-oh!” He laughed, elbowing his wife who looked like she could think of a million places she’d rather be.

I cocked my head, still a little confused about his business and feeling like I missed the punchline of his joke.

Laura rolled her eyes, but not in a playful way. “He’s a clown.”

I stilled. “A… c—clown, did you say?” As a lifelong sufferer of coulrophobia, this was no laughing matter.

“Want to see a trick?”

“Oh, God, no, please!” I drew back in my seat and clung to Hale.

That was enough about Norbert. Turning back to the pineapple winker, I smiled. “Where’d you get that drink, Judy?”

“The waitress.”

I’d sure like to meet her.

“Tonight’s gonna be a hoot,” Norbert announced, but I couldn’t bring myself to look at him. What if he was suddenly wearing a red nose?

When the waitress finally returned, I ordered a margarita, but that was a no-go. The chef even picked the cocktails and tonight we were all having pink squirrels—whatever the hell that was.

“And what exactly is this?” I stirred the milky pink drink and sniffed, finding the scent nutty with a trace of chocolate-covered cherries. “Hale, smell this?”

He leaned over and sniffed the glass then cleared his throat. “That’s…interesting.”

I begrudgingly sipped the concoction and gagged. “It wants to be pink milk, but it’s not.”

The centerpieces were cleared to make room for the main course, which we still hadn’t been told about. Remington once told me it was rude to ask too many questions when dealing with eccentric chefs. So I trusted the experience.

But when the main course arrived, my easy going attitude disappeared. “Um…” I leaned close to Hale. “That pig’s staring at me.”

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