Page 1 of A Taste of Chardonnay

21 Years Ago

At seventeen, I shouldn’t have to shave every damn day of my life, but here I was, another morning in front of the mirror, shaving the stubble that grew overnight. I finished up, patted my face dry, and went to start my shitty day.

Dad was passed out on the couch, empty beer cans from the night before scattered across the coffee table. There were stains on his once white tank top, and he needed a shave a week ago. His overgrown buzzcut was greasy and unkempt.

It had been a week since he lost another job—a week since he started drinking from when he woke up until he passed out at night. He was a mean ass drunk, but the alternative was sometimes worse. A Vietnam war vet, he was fucked in the head. Without alcohol, he’d randomly find himself in the forests hiding from the Vietcong.

I tried to get him help, but he was a stubborn prick who didn’t think there was anything wrong with him. It was perfectly normal to flashback to a warzone and beat the living shit out of your only son.

“Hey.” I kicked his foot with my boot.

“Fuck off.” He swatted his hand in the air.

“Get up. You told me you’d go look for a job today.”

“Why don’t you go get a fucking job?”

“Because I have school. And I do have a job. Thank God, or we would have been on the streets months ago.”

He rolled over and grabbed his pack of Marlboro reds. He didn’t have enough money to pay the water bill, but he could afford two packs a day and a twelve pack of beer. “Aren’t you just the fucking savior?”

I ground my teeth together, afraid if I didn’t, I’d say something that would set him off. I had a test first period, and I didn’t need to be nursing a black eye.

I tossed the newspaper beside him. “I circled some jobs for you.”

He lit his cigarette and blew a line of smoke toward me. He was looking for a reaction, but I was too damn tired to give him one. I busted my ass after school at Vine Valley Vineyards, helping with construction on the new tasting room.

I didn’t have the most convenient schedule, but Mr. Grasso, the owner of the Vineyard—and a man who was more like a father to me than my old man ever would be—spoke with the construction crew and worked his magic. After my shift, I headed to Don’s Café to work the dinner shift in the kitchen, making salads and washing dishes.

I looked at my old man and wished I could sit on my ass with no expectations for the day, but I had a test.

A honk came from outside, and I grabbed my backpack, slinging it over one arm. “Take a shower and go get a job,” I said as I made my way to the door.

An empty beer can hit me in the back of the head, but I ignored it and slammed the door behind me. Franc nodded to me from the driver’s seat of his brand-new F-150. He was a Grasso; his family were some of the richest people in Vine Valley, and he was my best friend.

I climbed into the passenger seat and tossed my backpack onto the floor, immediately noticing his sister, Chardonnay, wasn’t with him today.

“Rough morning?” he asked.

“Why do you ask?”

He reached over and pulled the visor down, flipping the mirror at me. I glanced at my reflection. “Oh shit.” I swiped my finger along the bead of blood on my chin.

“I have napkins in the glove box.”

I retrieved a napkin, pressing it against the nick. “Thanks.”

“Anytime.” He put the truck into drive and pulled away from the dilapidated structure that was my house.

“No Char today?”

“She had yearbook club this morning. Mom dropped her off.”

It didn’t matter how shitty my morning was, seeing Char always made life a little brighter. She was the third oldest of seven, the oldest girl, a year younger than Franc and me, and she didn’t take shit from anyone.

People called her a bitch, and she wore that insult as a badge of pride. She was strong and outspoken—a dangerous combination to people who were weak and insecure.

“Did your old man find a job yet?” Franc asked.

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