"The Hodgepodge Inn" WordArt
"Let's meet at The Hodgepodge," Gala suggested.
Jason scuffed his boots despondently against fine gravels of the park's circular drive.
"Can't," he hissed. "I'm busted."
Gala reached deep into the canvas purse draped from her tanned shoulders, drew out a crumpled round of bills and some change, and tossed it all toward the chest of his tie-dyed muscle shirt.
"I ain't," she laughed.
"Brother Simeon Paul."
Jay scowled. "For what?"
Gala turned, waggling and waving.
"Da-da," she trilled.
Jay grasped one wrist roughly, pulled her to him, and clasped her tightly as she tripped.
Gala caught her breath and stilled to compose.
"Naw, I just sang a piece of the last set....."
Jason loosened his grip.
"... and danced a bit."
Jay's open hand caught her ear as her hair flew.
He knelt to scoop the bills and coins up into a pocket.
"Right," he growled. "The Hodgepodge it is."
"Eight-ish,"Gala announced, steering her bike back toward the dock.
Jason opened the back door of his van, grabbed the fishing rods and tackle box for travel home back over the mountain.
"It's a class place," Gala reminded him over her shoulder.
Jay chuckled. "Clean jeans."
"And jockeys. They check at the desk."
"Be there or be square, toots."
"What did you do with the kids?" Gala leaned toward him at the bar to ask.
"Seriously," Gala demanded.
"Gertrude and Eddie's."
Gala relaxed against the cushioned back of the stool, swung it toward Jason, stretched her legs toward the outermost rungs.
"Party down, my man," she grinned.
"Bon anniversaire," Jason toasted as he lifted the wine goblet into the air between them and upended it.
"Whatta suite!" Gala exclaimed later, rolling off pale pink silk sheets toward the minifrig and microstove.
(~295 words 1726 characters)