Whiskey and Moonshine

by Elizabeth Noble

  When the tape and Gwendolyn’s hand went between his legs, Colt jumped and squawked, “Hey!”

  “Stand still,” Gwendolyn ordered. “You’re lucky I didn’t have pins in my hand. What’s your shoe size?” She stood up and walked around so she was in front of him, winding the tape around his hips, then his waist, and finally his chest and neck.

  “Eleven and a half,” Colt muttered. “Warn a guy before you molest him next time.”

  Audrey bit her lip and turned away, her shoulders bobbing up and down slightly.

  Mr. Kensington chuckled. “You’ll get used to it. When it comes to clothing, that woman is brazen and utterly serious. Take it from me, the best thing to do is stand still and deal with it.”

  “Do you have any colors you’re partial to, or brands or styles?” Gwendolyn rolled the offensive tape measure up and stuffed it in her pocket. She looked down at a pad of paper, making notes.

  “I usually shop in thrift stores or dumpsters,” Colt said quietly.

  Gwendolyn’s gaze popped up to meet his. Her cheeks colored, and she looked away quickly. “I-I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to…. I didn’t realize….”

  Colt shrugged. “I like clothes that aren’t torn and don’t itch.” He hadn’t intended to embarrass her, and he gave her a small smile.

  Gwendolyn’s eyes softened, and she relaxed and returned his smile. “I’ll pick out a variety, and you must tell me what you like and don’t like when you try them on. We’ll go from there. Is that all right?” She reached out and gave his arm a squeeze. “You may put your arms down now. I’m going to grab a quick lunch, then go shopping. I’ll be back in a few hours.”

  “We have some paperwork that needs to be completed as part of your new position. Mostly confidentiality agreements about mash recipes, upcoming events, things like that,” Mr. Grice said.

  Mr. Kensington stepped closer and patted Colt’s shoulder. The simple gesture was warm and friendly. “I’ll be back shortly,” he said and glanced at his watch. “It’s time for my training and workout. You don’t need me for any of this.”

  He gave Colt’s shoulder a quick squeeze and slipped from the room before Colt could wonder what he was talking about or return a touch. He hadn’t been around him much, but Colt was getting the impression Mr. Kensington genuinely liked and cared for the people who worked for him. For the last decade, Colt hadn’t felt honestly liked by anyone, but he knew deep down these people were fond of him, and having Mr. Kensington sincerely like him was important to Colt. He’d certainly warmed to Mr. Kensington during the little time Colt had known him.

  By the time Gwendolyn returned with a small mountain of boxes and large bags with different store logos and emblems on them, Colt was well on the way to becoming the distillery’s public persona. He’d been given what was easily a ream of paper with facts about the history of the company and all the different products.

  “Please, put everything in there.” Gwendolyn directed several men laden with the spoils of her hunt to the room across the hall from the one Audrey, Mr. Grice, and Colt occupied. As he watched the deliverymen deposit the packages, he wondered if he’d see the rest of Mr. Kensington’s house at some point.

  “Mr. Hale, are you listening?” Mr. Grice’s voice was terse to say the least.

  “Huh? I’m… sorry… I….”

  “I was making the point that your current living arrangements are impractical,” Mr. Grice said.

  “For the time being, we can find somewhere on the distillery grounds for him to stay. Maybe the dorms for the distillery interns?” Audrey added.

  Mr. Grice huffed an annoyed breath and glared. “I don’t think that’s the best idea. He should maintain a certain image.”

  Audrey reached out and put one hand on his forearm. “Jeffery, we’ll work something out. Lord knows there’s plenty of room in this house too.” She turned to Colt. “We can get your possessions moved here today or tomorrow. That will give us time to work out the living arrangements since the closest apartment complex is a half-hour drive at least.”

  “I can fit pretty much everything I own in my backpack and a box.” Colt shrugged. “I bought a few books and magazines with my first paycheck.”

  Audrey smiled kindly. “I’ll have Mal’s driver take you to the motel in the morning so you can pack.”

  Colt nodded. “Thanks.”

  Three hours later, Mr. Grice was finally satisfied Colt had signed everything necessary and had the pertinent information he’d need to learn. Colt was happy he’d finally been able to get up and move around once Gwendolyn returned. Even after stretching, he tried to stifle a yawn, failed, and covered his mouth with his fist. Then he rubbed the stiffening muscles of his shoulders and neck while turning his head side to side. “Does this job include meal breaks? ’Cause I missed lunch.” He’d crossed the hall to the dressing room.

  “Do any of these appeal to you?” Gwendolyn was laying articles of clothing on long tables set up against the wall opposite the dressers.

  Audrey’s phone signaled an incoming message. She held up one finger. “It’s Mal.” She took a few seconds to read, then quickly typed a response. “Mal is getting dinner ready for the two of you. That’s why he didn’t come back here. I hope you can hold out another hour or so. It’ll be worth it. He’s a phenomenal chef.” She stood up. “Time to see what Gwendolyn bought for you.”

  Mr. Grice closed his laptop, tucked it away in a carrying case, and stood up. He nodded to Audrey, then Colt. “Have a good evening.”

  “Thank you,” Colt mumbled. He moved closer to Gwendolyn and looked over her purchases. She’d thought of everything, right down to the underwear. “You’re thorough.” He picked up a pair of boxers that cost more than he made in a day. The material was soft, and they were in a pleasing dark gray-and-green checkered pattern.

  “I like the patterned boxer styles. But if you’d rather have plain white or solid colors or briefs, let me know. I’ll keep a spreadsheet of your requests,” Gwendolyn said.

  “No, these are fine. I never gave them much thought.” Colt shrugged.

  “Well, just remember, you might be thanking me someday.” Gwendolyn arched an eyebrow, her eyes twinkling. When Colt laughed outright, she did as well.

  “Do I have to model these too?” he asked.

  “No. I’ll trust your judgment on the undergarments, but I thought you might need some new ones. There is a clothing allowance for you, and it’s part of my job to track wardrobe expenses.”

  “Thank you.” Colt decided Gwendolyn was possibly one of the kindest, most thoughtful people he’d ever met.

  “Remember, your clothes need to please you, not me. I’ll do the shopping, if you’d like, and help with the right colors for your skin tone and styles for your body type, but to feel good about yourself, you need to feel comfortable in what you wear. It’s the law.” Gwendolyn added the last very dramatically.

  “There’s a lot of stuff here.” Colt wondered how much it all cost. “What do I try first?” He picked up shirts and then jeans and then lightweight cotton trousers, looked them over, and carefully put them back into place.

  “These are your clothes. You don’t have to treat them as if they’re in a store.”

  “My clothes? I thought they’d only be for when I was giving a speech or something,” Colt said.

  Gwendolyn shook her head. “No, these are your clothes. After you wear them, we can’t return them. Mr. Kensington’s thought was a basic wardrobe would be like a bonus. Besides, you won’t be comfortable in these outfits unless you wear them repeatedly. When you’re at a public appearance, the last thing you want to do is be self-conscious because of your clothes.”

  She took Colt by the shoulders and turned him to face her. She spent a minute looking him up and down before examining the outfits.

  “Hmm… dinner with Mal Kensington. What to wear?” Picking up a shirt, she draped it over her arm. Next she handed Colt a thin sweater. “These jeans. You’re at home, as it were
, so let’s keep this casual. Oh, these shoes.” Colt took a box from her that said Chukkas. Gwendolyn moved to one of the dressers and pulled out the top drawer, looking over whatever was in there. She turned and said, “This watch. We’ll get you sized for a ring or two later this week. Oh, and this.” She handed him a black leather bracelet comprised of two thin cords with a silver hook holding them together. “Pierced ears?”

  “No!”

  Gwendolyn blinked. “Okay. It’s not required.”

  “Sorry.”

  Handing everything to Colt, Gwendolyn pointed to a door. “You can change in there. I’ll decide on a belt after you change.” Colt grinned and snagged a pair of the checkered underwear.

  “Don’t forget these.” She piled socks on top of the other items in Colt’s hands.

  Colt slipped through the door and found himself in a small room clearly designed for changing clothes. First he pulled on the luxurious boxers and took a moment to rub them against his skin, liking how they felt. Next was the undershirt, then the long-sleeved button-down before he ran one hand down his chest and torso. These clothes didn’t itch; instead they were soft and comfortable. The lightweight sweater was just tight enough to show off how his waist tapered to his hips. The jeans had a slight snugness across his rear, and the legs went straight down and gave a hint of how his thigh curved. He settled on the bench to pull on his shoes, and he was ready.

  A sharp rap on the door made Colt jump. “Come on, I want to see what an awesome job I did,” Gwendolyn called.

  Colt cracked the door open and peered out. That was apparently an invitation for Gwendolyn. She pushed against the door with her foot and at the same time reached through and grabbed Colt’s arm to pull him out. She made some adjustments to how the sweater sat on his shoulders. Next she reached under the sweater and pulled his shirttails out so they showed under the sweater.

  “You could just tell me to do these things,” Colt protested.

  “What did Mr. K. say? Get used to it. I get paid an obscene amount of money to make sure he—and by extension you—look good.” She made a rolling motion with her hands. “Unbutton the cuffs and roll the shirt over the sweater sleeves.”

  Colt fumbled for a few seconds before letting his arms drop to his sides, shoulders sagging. Smiling smugly, Gwendolyn made that adjustment as well. With her hands on each of his shoulders, she turned him to one of the mirrors.

  Jaw dropping, Colt stared at his reflection. “I… that’s me? I barely even recognize myself.” He glanced over his shoulder at her. “I’m really loving the boxers. Socks are pretty awesome too.”

  Gwendolyn slipped one arm around his waist and gave him a squeeze, giggling softly. “I’ve outdone even me. You look fantastic! Mr. K. won’t be able to take his eyes off you.”

  Audrey poked her head through the door. “Can I come in?” She stopped two steps into the room. “Oh. My. God. At the risk of sounding like a dirty cougar, Colt, you look…. I have no words. My breath is taken away.”

  Gwendolyn and Colt turned to Audrey, and Gwendolyn curtsied. She elbowed Colt’s side. “Take a bow. We’ve outdone ourselves. There isn’t a woman—or man—who won’t stare at you.” When Colt raised his eyebrows and met her gaze, she nodded and smiled kindly. “If you feel attractive, then you will be attractive. Remember it’s my job to help you be at ease in any social situation. Even if that only includes two people. I think Mr. Kensington will approve of your new look.”

  “I have no doubt he will,” Audrey said. “Good job, Gwendolyn. I’ll have someone help you move everything to Colt’s suite.”

  “Suite?” Colt asked. “What suite?”

  To his surprise, Audrey blushed. “Never mind. I’m jumping the gun. I think it’s time I get you to Mal. He’ll explain the details.” She snickered and shrugged. “It is his house.” Holding out one arm, she gently laid her hand on Colt’s back as he walked by her toward the door.

  “Enjoy dinner,” Gwendolyn called after him.

  Walking with Audrey to another part of the large house, Colt wondered what it must be like to live like this. To always have enough food and never worry about paying bills.

  As they crossed the main foyer, Colt looked up, down, and in all directions. There was a heavy wood door with stained glass inlaid in the upper panels. A high ceiling gave the space a light, airy feeling. Plenty of light was provided day and night from small chandeliers hung in a line along the center beam and long, narrow windows on either side of the door. The floor was rough stone, with a four-pointed star pattern in the center. A large, dark wood table polished to a high gloss finish sat in the center of the star. On top were three empty whiskey bottles. Their style and labels made Colt think they were old, maybe some sort of antiques.

  “This is like a palace,” Colt whispered. He couldn’t tell if Audrey heard him or not since she offered no reaction.

  Opposite the front door was a large archway, and through it Colt saw a library with a fireplace, two couches, and several armchairs. To the right and left were narrower archways, but Colt couldn’t see anything beyond them from his position. A wide staircase wound down from the second story.

  Audrey motioned to a doorway under the steps. “This way.”

  They walked through a formal dining room into the kitchen. Colt counted two cooktops with ovens underneath nestled between butcher-block countertops. Two microwaves were stacked in one corner, and a massive coffee machine took up a third of the counter on the other side. Across from that was a line of steel refrigerator doors, and beside those were deep steel sinks. A butcher-block center island with drawers and shelves and tall stools around it and a rack with pots, pans, and a variety of cooking utensils hanging from it completed the room.

  The aromas swirling through the air made Colt’s mouth water and his stomach grumble. He detected something sweet and nutty mingled with the scent of seasoned meat and other odors he’d gotten a whiff of in Kensington’s Place. A cheese and potato casserole he loved for one, roasted vegetables for another.

  Off the kitchen was a small eating area just large enough for a round table with two stools with cushioned seats and iron backs. The tabletop was covered in a mosaic of brightly colored tiles. The floor was a similar tile design. At the end of the room was a sliding glass door.

  Audrey slid the door open and dipped her head outside. “Mal, it smells wonderful, as always.” They walked onto a huge wooden deck.

  Mr. Kensington was standing near a brick-and-metal monster of an outdoor grill and oven. Colt watched his movements as he put something in the oven. Everything he did was smooth and graceful. A second later, he turned to them. The somewhat pleasant expression he wore morphed into one of utter surprise. “Colt?”

  “Catching him off guard is nearly impossible.” Audrey leaned closer to Colt and spoke in a low voice. “You get an extra cookie for letting me see that.”

  Colt’s cheeks warmed. He glanced down at himself, smoothing his hands over his legs. “Does it look okay?”

  “Okay? No.” Mr. Kensington took a deep breath. “You look amazing.”

  Colt couldn’t help the grin that spread over his face. “Th-thank you, Mr. Kensington.” He glanced sideways at Audrey. She seemed very pleased.

  “Mal,” Mal corrected.

  “Mal,” Colt repeated softly. He liked how at ease Mal made him feel with almost no effort at all.

  “I believe my mission has been accomplished. I’ll leave you two to your dinner.” Audrey turned to leave.

  “Wait.” Mal took a few steps forward. “You’re not staying? I made plenty.”

  “You always make plenty, and the staff will enjoy the leftovers. I’m going home to have dinner with my husband,” Audrey said.

  “Call Martin. He can join us. There’s—”

  Audrey flipped her hair over her shoulder and smirked. “Have a good dinner, gentlemen.” She turned smartly on her heels and slipped back into the house, leaving Colt alone with Mal.

  For something to do, Colt tu
rned and looked out over the deck railing. “Oh wow, this is…. I don’t even know how describe how beautiful it is. You sure can’t see this from the front of the house.”

  “This house has been in my mother’s family for generations, but after my father died, my mother had it completely renovated. I did the mosaic on the breakfast nook floor and a few others.”

  It was impossible to see from the front of the house, but the building was constructed so the back half, including the deck, sat a few hundred yards from the edge of a cliff. Beyond that was a deep ravine, then mountains spanning in all directions. The sky was a deepening blue, and the sun was low to the west. Fireflies winked their lights on and off.

  A telescope sat in one corner of the deck, and solar lights were placed at regular intervals along the railing. As the sun sank lower and the sky darkened, the lights began to glow.

  Colt walked to the railing, rested both hands on the smooth wood, and leaned out for a better view. “You’re so lucky to live here.”

  “I spend as much time and take as many meals as possible out here,” Mal said softly.

  Glancing over his shoulder, Colt was surprised to see Mal was right behind him, holding two tall glasses. Turning, Colt leaned against the railing and faced Mal. The heat coming off their bodies was impossible to ignore. He took one of the offered glasses, appreciating its cooler temperature—something else to focus on.

  “Berry lemonade. It’s a nonalcoholic version of one of our more popular moonshines.” He clinked his glass against Colt’s, then tapped Colt’s elbow. “Hungry?”

  Colt took a sip of the lemonade, realized how thirsty he was, and took a bigger gulp. “God yes.”

  Mal burst out laughing. “Dinner will be a little while more, but I’ve made an appetizer. I hope you like it.”

  Colt nodded and took another long draft of the drink. “This is amazing. I’m parched.”

  “Good thing I opted for the virgin stuff.” Mal put his hand between Colt’s shoulder blades for a few seconds as they walked to the table, intensifying the bond Colt felt forming between them. As soon as Mal’s hand was gone, Colt missed the warmth it had radiated through him. Mal took Colt’s glass and set it down, then placed his own next to it.