Fan Garvey is a woman who moves through South Florida like the ibis treading lightly through the Florida saw grass lining the edges of the watery pools in the Everglades.
Last night sweltered, hot and sticky. A sweaty twilight slid into pulsating reggaeton, and spicy Latin food from the cooking pot of a feisty Borinqueno named Sergio who celebrated the grand opening of his small restaurant on Miami Beach and insisted that nobody leave until after midnight. If it wasn’t for the laughter, the food, and Paco stealing a grope or two under the table littered with perspiring curvy glasses of amber beer and platters of half-eaten buffalo wings, Fan would have strutted her high-heeled butt out of there, supremely annoyed, and gone and sat in the car until her date Paco tore himself away from his cousin Sergio to take her to the place he had originally promised to take her: Las Olas in Fort Lauderdale.
They were supposed to have had dinner at Mangos–just the two of them. Then take a stroll out toward the intra-coastal to people-watch but…
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