The Winemaker's Dinner: Amuse Bouche (The Winemaker's Feast)

by Rusilko, Dr. Ivan

  Cover

  title page

  The Winemaker’s Dinner:

  Amuse Bouche

  ...

  Dr. Ivan Rusilko

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  Omnific Publishing

  Dallas

  Copyright Information

  The Winemaker’s Dinner: Amuse Bouche, Copyright © 2013 by Dr. Ivan Rusilko

  All Rights Reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without prior written permission of the publisher.

  ...

  Omnific Publishing

  10000 North Central Expressway, Suite 400, Dallas, TX 75231

  www.omnificpublishing.com

  ...

  First Omnific eBook edition, April 2013

  ...

  The characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

  ...

  Library of Congress Cataloguing-in-Publication Data

  ...

  Rusilko, Dr. Ivan.

  The Winemaker’s Dinner: Amuse Bouche / Dr. Ivan Rusilko – 1st ed.

  ISBN: 978-1-623420-51-2

  ...

  Cover Design by Micha Stone

  Interior Book Design by Micha Stone

  Photography by John Conroy (JohnConroyPhotography.com)

  Cover Model: Dr. Ivan Rusilko and Adrianne Martinez

  Amuse Bouche

  “I’m modeling a little, and medically I’m organizing the debut of a new weight-loss program that amps up your metabolism using—”

  And then I lost my train of thought. Everything around me faded to black, and the chatter dissolved to a distant hum. At that exact second, in that perfect moment, in that precise spot, my heart stopped. A miracle had just stepped onto the dance floor.

  This miracle didn’t have wings, and it didn’t have a halo. She simply didn’t need them.

  All she needed was a ruby red dress—on that perfect body with that hair and those eyes. Holy shit, those eyes. Even from a distance I could decipher that they were clear pools of blue or green that a man like me could drown in. No doubt they’d sparkle like gems under the right light. I needed to get a closer look. But how?

  “What, do you want us to beg?”

  “What?” Oh, fuck! My ongoing conversation had totally slipped my mind. The group gathered around me now stared as if I’d suffered from a direct hit from a stun gun.

  “Sorry, lost my train of thought,” I managed with what I hoped was a winning smile. “Yeah, I’m doing good. All is groovy, really.”

  Underwhelmed, the group sidestepped my shitty answer and moved on to talk about TV casting or some such bullshit.

  I could’ve cared less. Back to the red dress. Fuck! Where did she go? Ahh… there she is. I stood and admired her from afar, this lady in red who had struck me speechless and apparently completely paralyzed. Only once before had something like this happened. Irena. Irena fucking Stang. Her name sent shivers down my spine. Not particularly bad ones and not good ones, but shivers just the same.

  But look at this girl. I watched her maneuver through the crowd effortlessly. Just her walk made me weak in the knees. I chuckled as every man I could see nearly broke his neck trying to catch a peek of her tight ass in the perfectly cut dress. It was hilarious and sexy as hell all at the same time. It seems hot girl in a red dress has a universal effect on the species.

  I raised a complimentary eyebrow, impressed by the way she snagged two wine glasses from a passing tray and avoided the shit show gathering at the free bar along her path. Clever girl. I like that. But wait…who’s that other glass for? Who was she looking for? Don’t be some old-ass playboy, please. My stomach turned over at the thought. Don’t be a climber, pretty girl. Please don’t be a climber.

  I looked over, past Kevin and Dirk who ignored me as I remained tuned out of their conversation. Though it was probably one I should be involved in, I instead studied the possible recipients of that second glass of wine.

  No. No. No. Not him. Not her… I scanned the crowd ahead of her, hoping against hope that she was there with a friend. A girl friend—no, even that wasn’t enough clarification. A girl friend, two words, not a girlfriend. I hope. And please God, not a boyfriend.

  I had to shift my position to continue watching her walk. I had to be sure it was as mesmerizing as it had been when I first noticed her. It was.

  Jesus, the last thing I need is a hard-on in the middle of this party but look at that ass in that dress. I love short dresses. Uff, what I would do to that… Okay, enough. I peeled my eyes away and got myself in check. My thoughts were headed to a place they shouldn’t be. I shouldn’t talk about her in such a way—not even just to myself. Not yet at least.

  Turning my gaze back to her possible destination, I searched until… BINGO! The cute girl in the blue. That’s got to be her, look how excited she looks. I’d be just as excited if ruby red were walking my way.

  I watched as they exchanged glasses and hugs. Perfect. She’s here with a friend. Girlfriend? I scrutinized their body language and interaction for a second to be sure. Naw, just a friend. This revelation was accompanied by a wave of tingling nerves through my body. What the fuck? I don’t get befuddled very often—in business, life, or love—but this girl had me twisted.

  “So you think you can help us with this in Miami?” Kevin asked me, his eyes expectant.

  “Hell, yeah!” I answered enthusiastically though I had no idea what I’d just committed to. Kevin was a guy you said yes to first and then figured out how to make it work no matter what. He could turn shit into gold in under three phone calls.

  “Fantastic,” he said with a smile and pat on my arm. “I knew I could count on you.”

  I’d better figure this out quick. They were talking about…TV shows. Right. “So what’s the demographic?” I asked, praying silently it was a reasonable question.

  “We’re thinking twenties through fifties, men and women. Mostly men, though. We want to corner that market. It’s untapped.”

  Not much help. Okay, how about this… “And the main competition, in your opinion?”

  “Well, the Food Network, of course.”

  Ahh… something to do with cooking. Piece of cake. Literally. “Yeah, no problem.” But what am I doing? Finding venues? Sponsors? Casting? “Any requirements?”

  “Well, just like I said, I need a fun personality, easy to look at. A new, upcoming face who looks great on camera, has a creative edge, and can cook. That’s about it.”

  Casting. Got it. “Well, there are chefs—good ones, too—all over Miami. I’ll sort you out.”

  “Don’t fail me now.”

  “Have I yet?”

  “We shall see! Now, how about some more wine and a cigar?”

  “Groovy. Let’s hit up the front bar by the dance floor. Seems like that one’s clearing out.”

  As I turned to follow him through the crowd, I couldn’t help but cast another glance to make sure my girl was still at her table. Table 9. She looked even better now—as if that were possible—in the setting sun. I started a romantic checklist to confirm whether this lightning in a bottle might be for real:

  Ability to dumbfound: CHECK (one of the hardest checks to achieve)

  Body: No doubt. CHECK

  Face: A beauty from what I could tell from afar. Check. But I need to confirm.

  Wine drinker: CHECK. Red. DOUBLE CHECK!

  Single: God,
I hope.

  I have to talk to her tonight, or at least get a closer look. I need this. It’s way past time for me to grow some balls and go after what I want. Take a chance. Put myself out there. Come on. You can do it.

  I promised myself I’d talk to the girl in red, but right then, I needed some fucking wine.

  “So, how you been, man?” Kirk asked as he handed me a glass of wine from the bar.

  “This side of the dirt, my man, so it’s going well. And you? Loving the posts, by the way.”

  “Thanks! It’s going great.”

  “You still fishing those clubs?” I asked him, and by fishing I meant, of course, for women and not actual fish.

  “Of course. But I haven’t landed anything. I take them out, take them to parties, spend a little cash, and then they disappear.”

  “Quit fishing the damn club scenes, man. How many times do I have to tell you? You ain’t gonna find anything substantial there, so stop looking.”

  “I know, I know. But damn, man—you know how it is. The women in Miami Beach are dangerously enticing. I don’t know who’s baiting who anymore.”

  “Dangerous is a good word for them.”

  “How about the show? Could be fun.”

  “Yeah, that’s true,” I said cautiously, still not entirely clear what I was supposed to do. “Miami has so many chefs and cooks and restaurants. We’ll see, though. It’s not that high on my priority list, but when Kevin asks, I’m more than willing to help.”

  “Hey, Kirk,” came a voice from behind him. “Tell Stephen about that fashion event last week.”

  After saluting me with his glass, Kirk turned to Stephen and jumped right in about swim bodies and free alcohol.

  Excellent redirect. I turned back to find my angel in red. Damn. Look at her. Ridiculous.

  Ivan, snap out of it. Don’t let her catch you staring at—Fuck.

  Without warning, her eyes locked on mine, and I couldn’t look away. I didn’t even pretend I was looking somewhere else or make an effort to be cool. I was powerless. Everyone has moments in life: good ones, bad ones, silly ones, sad ones. They’re a dime a dozen. But this moment felt different. It was fucking magic.

  Some say love at first sight is bullshit, and others say it’s the most real, pure thing thing on earth. I am a firm believer in the latter. I’d experienced it before. Its glory and its sting, and it was as real as you or me. Those shimmering eyes, thick with shades of opal, had promised me love and delivered. But as it turned out, it was a futile, fickle love. It was delicate, and it was misleading. Love is the stepbrother of hate and can cross over in a heartbeat. Complete and utter infatuation can evolve—no, devolve—into hurtful distain with a simple slip, a casual accident, or one regretful summer’s night.

  But this was different. This wasn’t love at first sight at all. I wasn’t falling for that again. This was something much more. This was fate smiling on me and unveiling my destiny. She sat 50 feet away from me, wearing in a red dress, drinking even redder wine, and staring at me with what I could finally discern to be emerald green eyes. What was this? It was my second chance, and it was beautiful.

  With the faintest of smiles, my angel in red turned away, breaking our intimate staring contest. Hopefully I didn’t make an ass of myself. She clearly caught me staring, but at least she smiled back, kind of, so maybe she doesn’t think I’m a total creeper.

  Ability to dumbfound: CHECK CHECKMATE.

  Share a moment: CHECK.

  “Damn, Ivan. I love these cigars. I need to buy a few cases from you.”

  “Sure thing, Kev. I’ll make sure to hook you up before you go.”

  Five-dollar cigars rolled by an American on Ocean Drive can make one of the most powerful men in television giddy? It would break his heart if I told him a guy named John, not Juan, had rolled ’em.

  “You excited for this meal, Stephen?” I asked. “Being a food critic in Miami must be a tough job. What a life. Get wined and dined at every high-end restaurant on the beach, and all you have to do is write a 250-word column saying whether it was good or not. Where do I sign up to get a gig like that?”

  “Yes! I can’t wait,” he said with a laugh. “Hopefully it’s better than last year’s something au gratin. A heavy, cheesy starch was not the best pair for good wine.”

  “No shit, right?”

  “Let’s take our seats, shall we?” Kevin announced.

  “Lead the way, my man.” After all, he does pay for everything.

  We each grabbed one last glass of wine from the bar and headed for our table. As we drew near I realized it had to be the chef’s table or some other sort of VIP shit. I’d sit on the floor if I had to just to be here tonight.

  While everyone jockeyed for a seat, I made sure I had a clear view of my lady in red, who was now chatting up some blue-haired stranger. Well, at least I think it’s a stranger. She looks annoyed, but she’s sticking with it.

  Kind: CHECK

  I took a moment to survey the rest of her tablemates. Wait a second, who the hell is that asshole? God dammit. I knew it. A girl that stunning had to be here with someone. Look at this clown. With that hair? We aren’t in California, man.

  Who am I kidding? He’s probably a good guy. But right now, he’s a dick making a move I didn’t have the balls to make. And truth be told, no amount of wine would have given me enough liquid courage. Shit. Soooo, time to have some fun, right?

  “Where the hell is the wine?” I demanded. “Let’s get this party started.”

  “Ah…someone has finally come to life!” Kevin said with a narrowed eye. “You haven’t even touched your food.” I looked down at the plates that had magically appeared and then around the table. I was almost embarrassed to see that everyone else had nearly finished their entrée.

  “Just a bit distracted,” I said with a wink. “I need some fine, fine wine to wash this down.” Tuna with mint, really? I stabbed at the cut of fish with my fork and took a bite. “Damn.”

  “Yeah, I agree completely,” Kirk agreed.

  The flavors made my tongue weak with pleasure. The warm outer flesh contrasted nicely with the cool, raw center, which melted into a blissful mint extravaganza. I vowed to keep my attention at the table as assorted vegetables and some mango sorbet danced their way across our palates and down our gullets, as well as, of course, copious amounts of wine.

  “Yo, let’s go grab a smoke,” the head of the table suggested.

  “All right, Kev.” The table agreed collectively as we all pushed back and stood.

  A team of blue-shirted waiters nearly bum rushed the table as we moved away. Apparently they’d been waiting for us to finish so they could make way for a dance party. Go for it. But I wasn’t planning on dancing.

  “Got a light?” I surveyed the group in the moonlight.

  “Here you go.” Stephen came to the rescue with a beautiful little butane lighter, and I torched up.

  The smell of mahogany and tobacco tasted sweet on my tongue and made a nice contrast to the food orgy that had just concluded on my tongue. Damn, it was good.

  As Kirk and Stephen once again started jabbering about PR and “the scene,” Kevin asked the question that was currently plaguing me.

  “So, you got yourself a girl, Doc?” Puffing on his cigar he looked up at me, smiling as if he expected a story or two.

  “Negative. Still single looking to mingle.”

  He seemed surprised by my response and shook his head.

  I balanced my cigar in one hand and my glass of wine in the other. “Thought I had a winner tonight, but like all the good ones in life, it appears she’s taken,” I added, suddenly bold.

  “No shit. Smitten were we? Let me guess. Red dress, apple ass, green eyes?”

  Laughing, I couldn’t help but give credit where credit was due. “Nailed it!”

  “I saw her earlier coming in. She’s a rocket.”

  “A rocket with a surfer boyfriend.”

  “Couldn’t help but notice that too.
Wasn’t sure if he was there for her or her friend.”

  Just then I felt the soft caress of a woman’s touch skate across my shoulders and a delicate voice whispered in my ear.

  “Twenty dollars for a blow job, forty for the golden ticket.”

  I didn’t have to turn around to know who the voice belonged to, and I erupted in a fit of drunken laughter that seemed to startle those around me. “How much for option two followed by option one?” I asked.

  “Oh, you sick bastard!”

  When I finally turned to look over my shoulder, I found my friend Stacey, just as I knew I would. She looked good enough to eat, literally, in a too-short black dress, her perfect legs, and mouth fit for…smiling.

  “Ivan, how are you? It’s been to long!” As I wrapped my arms around her for a hug, I couldn’t help but appreciate the way her 35-year-old body felt against mine: hard as hell and built to fuck. She’d better keep her head up tonight. She might get it.

  Why had I never tried her on for size before? Probably the fact that she loved anything that was younger than her and had money and a body—or a dick, for that matter. The thought did cross my mind on occasion, though.

  “Sorry I’m late. I had to speak with a few partners before this. Kevin, did you fill him in on the casting need?”

  I felt another tap on my shoulder that was definitely not feminine. Kev, ignoring her question, whispered to me under his breath. “Surfer boy isn’t here with the rocket. He’s going after the friend. No excuses now, my boy.”

  I cranked my neck around to where she’d once sat, but all I saw was the faint mirage of a red dress walking away. My mind raced and came to a conclusion in expedited fashion. I needed to make my move, sweep my inhibitions under the rug.

  Turning back to Kevin, I grinned. “You believe in destiny?”

  “What?”

  “Do you believe in destiny?”

  The look on his face told me exactly what he thought about the ridiculousness of the question, and he murmured a very direct response. “No. Destiny and love at first sight? It’s all a pipe dream, my friend. That rocket in the pretty little red dress?” He paused and leaned in closer. “She’s just a girl, not a fate and definitely not a destiny. Just a girl. You’re smarter than that.”