Page 130 of Red Mountain Burning
“A Fro-gria,” she repeated louder. “It’s all Red Mountain fruit.”
Otis chuckled. “Well, if it’s all Red Mountain, I’ll take you up on it.”
She filled his cup from one of the machines.
He dropped a five into a bucket of tips. Finding a small area of space near the pool, he took a sip. All Red Mountain fruit. At least there was that.
Muttering to himself, he said, “If I can make it through tonight, I can handle anything.”
On a light-blue float in the center of the pool, Otis found Bellflour. He was surrounded by a group of young women, and judging by their laughs, must have been telling a very funny story. Otis watched him for a while, and in those few moments, the man tossed back two pink Solo cups of whatever he was drinking.
Bellflour eventually looked Otis’s way, and a stare-down ensued. His nemesis hopped off the float and waded toward him. His tanned belly hung over a ridiculously bright hot-pink Speedo. Two thin gold chains hung from his neck and wrist.
Otis met him on the side of the pool, and he felt his knees crack as he knelt down. “I came to apologize,” he said loudly.
Bellflour’s face tightened.
Nearly yelling over the music, Otis continued, “It wasn’t right of me to fight you…or to install that smart valve, and I hope you’ll accept my apology. I was wrong. And I’m glad to see your vines are okay.”
After a long debate, Bellflour grinned. “Apology accepted.”
Otis stuck out his hand, and Bellflour’s hand rose out of the water to meet it. “For an old man, you sure as hell can throw a punch.”
Otis’s fists had been sore for a week after their bout. Squeezing down hard on the Bellflour’s hand, he said, “Congratulations on the opening. Welcome to Red Mountain.”
Bellflour seemed to match Otis’s effort with a punishing grip. “I appreciate that.”
For the first time ever, Otis looked at Bellflour like he was actually human. Maybe the guy wasn’t all bad. He might be drunk and certainly lacking in vision, but maybe he was just another guy trying to survive the sometimes harsh world.
Otis realized there was a crime he’d not yet confessed to: planting the pinotage vines. He looked around at the wild scene that Bellflour had concocted, and he decided he wasn’t ready to divulge this last bit of information. Otis needed to carry with him one small victory.
“How do you like my Fro-gria?” Bellflour asked, stealing Otis back from his thoughts.
“I’d say you’ve got a winner.”
Bellflour circled his thumb over his fingers. “Money, money, money.”
“Now that you’re done here, what’s next on the Drink Flamingo agenda?” Otis asked.
“That’s a good question. We’ve got our eyes on a property in Burgundy that might just be perfect.”
Otis felt a murmur in his heart and had a sudden urge to race back home to find his blood pressure medicine. “Burgundy, huh?”
Bellflour broke into a grin. “Nah, just kidding. I think I’m done for a while. I’m tired, Otis. So damn tired.”
“Yeah, that makes two of us. The wine business is not for the faint of heart, is it?”
“No, it’s not.”
* * *
Sometime past midnight,Bellflour was still in the pool. Only the real party animals remained, and he was glad to see he was the oldest of them. He still had a few tricks up his sleeve and a few late nights in his future.
Damned if his bladder wasn’t pushing, though, and he wasn’t about to pee in the pool. Not after all the work he’d put into this place. He did hate to leave the women hovering around him, though. He liked watching them dance as he sipped on Fro-grias and thought about all the people he’d proved wrong.
Hopping off his float, he slid it to a pretty brunette. “Will you hold onto this for me, honey?”
“You got it,” she said, shaking her shoulders to the beat.
