Page 12 of The Bad Girl List

I clink my glass against his, my throat too tight to respond. I choke down a long swallow.

To you, Elle, I say silently. I fucking miss you.

Thomas meticulously folds up a jacket and a pair of my jeans piled on one end of the couch and sets them on the floor before taking a seat. We sit in companionable silence.

This is another thing I like about my brother. He doesn’t feel the need to fill every second with words, like our dad does. He can small talk with the best of them, but he’s also happy to be silent.

“Dad came to see me this morning,” I say. “He’s on my ass again.”

“Did he give you the lecture on how Elle would want you to live a good life and find happiness?”

“Essentially, yeah. It’s like he thinks the old me is just something that can be polished up and resurrected.” I slam my wine glass onto the table. “Everyone wants me to get on with my life, but this is the best I can do.” My gesture takes in the vineyard beyond the sliding glass door in my living room. “All Dad cares about is me getting back out into the field to sell wine.”

“Is that what he said?”

“Yeah.” I lower my voice in a parody of our father. “Our customers don’t want to be passed off to some no-name I’ve hired from a headhunter. They want to work with the family.”

Thomas chuckles. “What did you say?”

“The same thing I say every time he hounds me. I’m the vineyard operations manager now. He can find someone else to do sales.”

“Is that really what you want?”

I look at Thomas sharply. “Of course it’s what I want.” Being out in the field on sales calls will just make me think of Elle. At least out here in the vineyards, there aren’t memories of her at every turn.

“I mean, if you hadn’t lost Elle–don’t look at me like that, I’m not trying to be an asshole. I just mean, if Elle was still alive, don’t you think you’d want to be out there selling our family’s wine? You always seemed to enjoy it before the accident.”

I pick up my glass again and swirl the wine, watching the pale yellow liquid coat the sides. “I used to think following in Dad’s footsteps was my dream job. But I’ve never really liked crowds and small talk, not the way Dad does. It’s like … I just didn’t know any different, you know? Dad told me when I was ten years old that he was going to teach me how to sell wine, and I said okay. It never even occurred to me to take any other role in the family business. But then there was the accident and … I actually like working in the vineyards. All of Uncle Theo’s farming techniques make a real difference in the grape quality. I like being part of that. I wouldn't change it, even if Elle was still here.”

“Do you really mean that?” Thomas asks. “If Elle was still alive, you’d be happy working in the vineyard every day?”

“Yeah, I really would. She always liked people a lot more than I do.”

Thomas chuckles. “That’s for sure. She always had a flock around her.”

“She was magnetic,” I agree. “I could always find her at a party by searching out the largest crowd. She would be at the center of it. God, I fucking miss her. Every damn day I wake up, and I miss her.” I drain my glass and pour another.

“I miss her too, bro. She was good for you.”

We polish off the bottle, then another, this one a local Pinot Noir. As I’m contemplating which bottle to grab next, Thomas sets down his wine glass and says, “Come on, get your shoes.”

“I’m not going anywhere.”

“Yes, you are. You’re coming with me to Zeke’s. I have to bring my A-game to the event tomorrow, and I can’t do that without a solid hangover.”

“That doesn’t make any sense.”

Thomas raises an eyebrow. “I’m pretty sure you’re drunk enough for that to be solid logic.”

“You never have solid logic.” I mean it as a joke, but something in his eyes shifts.

“That’s what Dad says,” Thomas grunts.

Is it my imagination, or does he look disappointed? I’m too drunk to discern if that’s from our father’s opinion of him, or my comment.

Before my sluggish brain can think of what to say, Thomas’s customary upbeat smile is back in place.

“If you won’t go to Zeke’s for yourself, go for me,” he says. “There’s a new bartender there named Minnie. She has the hottest ass you’ve ever seen and works on Fridays. I need a wingman.”

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