Page 19 of A Taste of Chardonnay

I hung another clown in a cage by the door to the outside seating area. It would scare the shit out of anyone who walked by and tripped the sensor that caused it to scream and shake. A smile tugged at the edge of my mouth, thinking of all the jump scares and screams that were to come.

I moved to the bar and picked up my glass of whiskey and took a sip, admiring everything I’d done so far. The distillery had been closed for an hour, and I’d already managed to put up most of the things I wanted displayed.

A knock at the door caught my attention. I expected Franc, but shock slammed into my chest as my eyes took in Chardonnay, standing at my door, looking as impatient as ever.

She was in another one of her pantsuits. This one was emerald green with a white shirt beneath that dipped in an arch, revealing her perfect tits. But her tits didn’t answer any of my questions.

Jack sauntered to the door, his tail wagging with too much excitement. He glared back at me as if telling me to hurry the hell up. I flipped the lock and pulled the door open.

“What are you doing here?” I asked as her delicious scent wafted into the door, engulfing me in a sophisticated combination of lemon, rose, and musk. It was probably some expensive shit like Chanel. I remembered back when we were teens, she begged Franc and me to bring her to the mall. She must’ve spent an hour in the perfume section, making me smell every damn one. My nose hairs had singed by the third one. But I remembered the Chanel scents had been her favorite. Something I’d never be able to afford to give her. Not that it mattered. Not too soon after, our friendship had shriveled up to what it was now.

Except for the fact she was currently standing in the doorway of my tasting room.

“Is everyone okay?” I asked.

“Yeah.” She waved her hand in the air as if to bat the question away. Shifting on her heel, she looked uncomfortable for maybe the first time ever. After a deep inhale, her dark brown eyes met mine. “Nero told me about Ron.” Holding a packet of papers, she added, “I did some research.” She motioned it toward me. “Take it.”

I hesitated, confused. I stared at the papers, wondering what her angle was. Chardonnay didn’t go out of her way to help me.

“Why?”

“Do I need a reason?”

“You? Yes.”

“Just take the papers.”

I continued to stare. Her lips pressed together, and I waited for her to snap, but she straightened her shoulders and smacked the papers against my chest.

“Take them.” She glared at me, then with a crack of her neck she inhaled. “Please.”

My head jerked toward the papers, then her. She stood there, hand on my chest. I took the papers, our fingers brushing slightly. “Thank you. I think.” I glanced at the stack with color coded tabs. “I don’t know if I need all this. He’s going to a doctor on Wednesday. Maybe they’ll give him some meds or something.”

Her eyes blinked wide and locked on mine. I couldn’t tell if it was pity or something else. I stopped trying to figure Chardonnay out a long time ago, but the way she was looking at me made me uneasy.

“What?” I asked.

“From what I’ve read, this is only going to progress.”

“I’ll wait to see what the doctor says.”

“I think you need to prepare yourself, and you need to decide if you’re ready for all this disease entails.”

“What are you talking about?”

She walked to the bar, grabbed my glass of whiskey, and took a sip. The clown in the corner released a loud scream, and Chardonnay jolted, almost spilling the whiskey all over her. She recovered gracefully.

“I hate clowns.”

“I’m sure they don’t like you much either.”

She looked me over and smirked. “Obviously.” She placed the glass down. “If it is Alzheimer’s, he’s not going to get better. He’s going to get worse. What that means is different for everyone. He had a history of being violent when he was intoxicated, so there’s a possibility he can revert to that, or maybe he goes the opposite way and forgets all about that part of himself and he’s just a happy guy. Either way, he’s not going to be the man you know.”

“I’m not sure I’ve ever known him. The man I thought I knew didn’t even seem to exist anymore. It’s like that part of my life was just a nightmare. Not real. Or maybe it was like Nightmare on Elm Street. It was real, but only to me.”

She grabbed my hand, and my eyes shot to her hold before she dropped it. She looked as shocked as I felt. She straightened her shoulders, and the shock on her pretty features vanished. Typical Char. She wasn’t exactly known for her emotional intelligence. “It wasn’t a nightmare. I remember.”

Our gazes met, but neither of us said anything. So many memories hung between us, filling in the gaps, letting us keep from voicing those memories we’d rather forget. Char didn’t know everything, but she knew enough. It’s why what she had said about me back in high school cut deeper than it should have.

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