Page 16 of You Give Wine a Bad Name

I laid out our meal on the table in the bay window, the slanted rays of the setting sun making everything look even more inviting. The pancakes were thick and golden with fresh strawberries and whipped cream on top, the bacon perfectly crisp, the eggs fluffy and steaming. It was the kind of meal that made you feel good just looking at it, and I couldn’t wait to dig in.

A few minutes later, Angie joined me, her hair falling in soft waves around her shoulders, her cheeks still flushed from the shower. She smiled when she saw the spread of food, and I couldn’t help but return the smile, feeling a warm sense of satisfaction settle in my chest.

“This looks amazing,” she said, taking a seat at the table.

“Only the best for you,” I replied, sitting down across from her. There was a deeper meaning to my words, and I hoped she could sense it. I wanted to give her more than just a good meal—I wanted to give her everything.

We started eating, the food as delicious as I’d hoped. Each bite was a little piece of heaven, the kind of comfort food that made you feel at home, no matter where you were. I watched Angie as she savored the pancakes, her eyes closing in appreciation with each bite, and I felt that same warmth in my chest grow stronger. This was what I wanted—simple moments like this, filled with laughter and good food, shared with someone who made my world feel a little brighter.

As we ate, the conversation flowed as easily between us as ever. We talked about everything and nothing all at once, the kind of conversation that felt effortless, like we’d known each other for years instead of just a short time. There was something about Angie that made me want to open up, to share parts of myself that I usually kept hidden. And I could tell she felt the same way, that she was letting me see pieces of her that she didn’t show to just anyone.

But as we neared the end of our meal, that peaceful bubble we’d created started to fade. Angie’s phone buzzed on the table, pulling her attention away from the conversation. She glanced at the screen, her expression shifting from contentment to something more guarded as she read the message.

“It’s my manager, Miles,” she said with a sigh, setting the phone down. “He says he covered for me last night, but he wants to meet right away. He’s asking if I’ll be able to sing tonight.”

I watched as she rubbed her temples, the weight of the decision pressing down on her. I could see the conflict in her eyes, the way she was torn between what she wanted and what she felt she needed to do. I didn’t want to push her either way, but I also knew she needed to talk it out.

“What do you want to do?” I asked, keeping my voice gentle. “Whatever you decide, I’ll support you.”

She looked up at me, her expression softening at my words. “I’m not sure yet. I need to talk to Miles first. I want to tell him that Trace is out of jail, and maybe he can arrange for extra security. But…I don’t know if I’m ready to perform tonight.”

I nodded, understanding the weight of her decision. “That sounds like a good plan. Talking to Miles is the first step, and if you decide to go ahead with the performance, I’ll be there. You won’t be alone.”

She smiled, a small, grateful smile that tugged at my heart. “Thank you, Bowie. That means a lot to me.”

We finished our meal in a quieter mood, the earlier joy tempered by the reality of the situation. But even in the midst of that uncertainty, there was still a connection between us, something that felt solid, like a foundation we could build on.

As I started to clear the table, Angie gathered her things, getting ready to meet with Miles. I could tell she was trying to stay focused, but there was an underlying tension in her movements, a sign that she was still grappling with her decision.

“I’ll drive you back to the festival,” I said as I stacked the plates. “We can figure things out from there.”

“Thanks,” she replied, slipping her phone into her bag. “I appreciate it.”

Just as I was finishing up in the kitchen, my phone buzzed in my pocket. I pulled it out, expecting maybe a message from one of my buddies, but instead, it was Lila.

“Everything okay?” I asked as I answered, my voice casual.

“Not really,” she said, and I could hear the stress in her tone. “There’s an issue at Sunset Vines, and I don’t know how to handle it. I need you to come in right away.”

A knot of worry tightened in my chest, but I kept my voice calm. “What’s going on?”

“It’s…it’s complicated,” she said, sounding flustered. “I’ll explain when you get here. Can you come now?”

“Yeah, I’ll be there soon,” I said, glancing over at Angie. “I’ve got to drop a friend off somewhere first, but I’ll head over right after.”

“Okay, thanks, Bowie. I just— I really need you here.”

“Don’t worry sis, I’m on my way,” I assured her before ending the call.

Angie looked up at me, concern in her eyes. “Everything alright?”

I hesitated, not wanting to add to her stress. “There’s just a small issue at the bar. Lila needs my help, but it’s nothing major.”

“If you need to go, you can drop me off at the entrance,” she offered. “I’ll be fine on my own. You don’t need to escort me all the way to my trailer.”

I frowned, not liking the idea of leaving on her own, but I also knew Lila wouldn’t have called if it wasn’t important. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah,” she said, giving me a reassuring smile. “I’ll be okay. You go take care of your bar. I’ll handle things with Miles.”

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