Page 17 of Alice & Meg, Girls Trip

As we placed our orders, the bartender moved with practiced ease, mixing and pouring the drinks with a flair that suggested he’d been doing this for years. The sound of ice clinking in metal shakers and the occasional burst of soda being poured added to the lively atmosphere of the bar.

Meg, sitting to my right, leaned over and nudged me with her elbow. “You know,” she said with a grin, “if this mule is as good as it sounds, we might have to come back here for round two before we even start wandering.”

I chuckled. “You always plan ahead when it comes to drinks, don’t you?”

“Damn right,” she replied, her eyes twinkling. “But I’ll need to pace myself if I want to make it through the day. Last thing I need is to be carted back to the campsite before dinner.”

Cyn, overhearing, chimed in. “You? Pacing yourself? I’ll believe it when I see it.”

“Hey, I can be responsible,” Meg protested, though the grin on her face suggested otherwise.

“Sure, responsible enough to get a backup drink in case the first one doesn’t measure up,” Raven teased.

Before Meg could retort, the bartender placed our drinks in front of us, each one perfectly crafted. The Smoky Campfire Moscow Mule came in a rustic copper mug, with a hint of smoke rising from the top, and the Dirty Shirleys were garnished with a bright red cherry, looking as playful as Raven had described them.

Meg took a cautious sip of her mule, her face thoughtful. After a moment, she nodded in approval. “Not bad at all. Smoky, refreshing, and with just the right kick. But,” she added, reaching for her Old Fashioned, “you never know.”

We all took our first sips together, the mix of flavors a perfect complement to the bar’s laid-back vibe. Conversation flowed easily, from campfire plans to the best drinks for an evening under the stars.

Still on her earlier thought, Reva leaned across the bar to ask the bartender, “So, do you guys deliver to campsites?”

He chuckled and shook his head. “Sorry, you’ll have to come back here for refills. But I promise it’ll be worth the walk.”

Reva shrugged, satisfied. “Fair enough. I guess Lennox will have to be our DD for the weekend.”

“Just keep the Shirley Temples coming, and I’ll drive you anywhere,” Lennox declared, her hand resting protectively on her small but noticeable baby bump. She pointed to the menu in front of her with a mischievous grin. “And also, buy me three of the peanut butter and jelly smash burgers.”

Karmen, sitting next to her, gasped in mock horror. “Dear God,” she exclaimed. “Who on earth would even think about making something like that? Your pregnancy cravings are next level.”

Lennox held up the menu, her expression defiant. “I didn’t make it up. It’s literally right here in black and white.”

“I want to try it, too,” Meg chimed in, leaning over to get a better look at Lennox’s menu. “I mean, it’s probably like sweet and savory. Sign me up.”

“I think I’ll just stick with a normal cheeseburger,” Reva laughed, shaking her head at the absurdity. “Maybe spice things up with some cheese curds.”

Greta, never one to shy away from a group decision, raised her voice to get the bartender’s attention as he approached. “Those two crazies will take seven of your peanut butter and jelly sliders because Lennox is eating for two,” she said, nodding toward Lennox and Meg. “And then just bring, like, twentycheddar sliders with all the fixings for the rest of us. Also, three large orders of cheese curds and two large orders of fries.”

“Sounds good to me,” I said, not even needing to think about what to order. The menu was full of interesting choices, but Greta’s selection hit all the right notes.

The bartender scribbled down our order with a grin. “Coming right up, ladies,” he said, his voice a deep rumble that fit perfectly with the rustic surroundings.

As we waited for our food, Lennox leaned back in her chair, a satisfied smile on her face. “I can’t believe I’m actually excited about these burgers,” she said, patting her belly. “Baby’s getting me to try all sorts of new things.”

“Well, at least you’re not craving something weird like pickles and ice cream,” I teased, nudging her gently.

“Oh, don’t jinx it!” Lennox laughed. “Next week, I could be all about that.”

Reva, still amused by the idea of peanut butter and jelly on a burger, shook her head. “I just don’t understand how those flavors work together. But hey, I’m glad you’re happy.”

“Trust me,” Meg said, leaning in with a conspiratorial whisper, “it’s going to be amazing. You know how peanut butter works on everything—sandwiches, cookies, even celery. Why not a burger?”

“I’ll take your word for it,” Reva replied, still skeptical but clearly enjoying the banter.

“To new experiences,” Meg said, raising her glass with a wink. “And to Lennox’s crazy cravings.”

“Cheers!” we all echoed, the laughter and good spirits spreading through the group like wildfire.

As the food started arriving, the bartop became a scene of organized chaos. The sliders were piled high, each one a little masterpiece of flavor, with melted cheese oozing out from between the buns. The peanut butter and jelly burgers were thestars of the show, their sweet and savory aroma mingling with the more traditional smells of cheddar and beef.

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