Her name is Jane, the locals know her as Grandma Jane. She’s in her 50’s but looks like she’s 30. She has a son and a daughter both grown with kids. For an older woman she’s up on technology. Carrying around all the latest gadgets to show off pictures of her grand kids. Her ipad scrolls through instagram photos of her family making dinner together and dancing on the beach. She’s very proud of them.
The first time Jane came into the bar she wanted a glass of wine and dinner after a late night jog. She told me that she writes for a local TV show.
There’s a moderate amount of maintenance required with her. She’s specific in the way she orders but not obsessive on how it comes out. She’s not the type to send back food or complain about service.
Around the third time she came in, she ordered the most expensive meal on the menu. After finishing half she asked for a togo box and the check. I dropped them both and walked off to tend to some other customers. When I went back to close her out I found an empty bar stool and exact cash for her meal.
No tip? That’s not like Grandma Jane, before she has tipped more than customary.
On her receipt I find a note, “Thanks honey”, “Your tip is in the box”.
Togo box tip? Awesome, tipping me in half eaten food? It was the filet but fuck this.
But I don’t find a half eaten steak inside the box. I find a golf ball sized nugget of high quality marijuana.
Naturally I go home and smoke it, naturally my friends come over and smoke it.
It’s good. Really good. Everyone wants to know where I bought it, but I didn’t buy it, it came from Jane.
She let a few weeks go by until she showed up again. The next time I see her she brings in eatables. Carmel candies that taste like something out of Willy Wonka’s factory. They melt in your mouth give your head a hospital high.
As time goes by Grandma Jane becomes a type of local legend. She’s the real life Mary Louise Parker from that show “Weeds”. The word gets out on her escapades in the growing and manipulating of cannabis. She starts to mingle with the regulars, handing off her “baked” goods. She brings in cupcakes, suckers, gluten free brownies, she infuses vodka with weed, she makes butter, she even brings me in a bowl of gourmet mac and cheese. Everything she makes tastes like it came out of Gordon Ramsay’s kitchen with the extra ingredient of the purest bud in town. I realize that her telling me that she was a writer for TV was a farce, she’s is a drug dealer, no denying it.
Grandma Jane another one of my bar patrons, mother, grandmother, arbiter of culinary excellence….. drug dealer.