by BT Urruela
“He never did this kind of welding, just your usual stuff. Once I got out of art school, I sculpted—mostly with clay—and then I kind of got the idea to combine the skills. It took a long time to get it all figured out, but once I did, it sort of became an obsession.”
“No kidding,” Paige says, rolling her eyes.
“Hey, you didn’t mind when this obsession paid for your college degree,” Teresa says, nudging her daughter playfully with her hand.
“Oh, I know, Mama. I’m just yanking your chain.”
“You better be,” Teresa says, smiling and then turns her attention to me. “So, Xander, you excited for the festival tonight?” Teresa asks.
“Yeah, I am. It sounds like it’ll be a good time. It’s been fun watching Jack the more we’ve gotten things together for the festival. No nerves at all. With how big this competition is, you’d think he’d at least be a little nervous. I guess that’s what winning five years in a row will get you, huh?”
“Six,” Teresa corrects me with a smile. “Honestly, he’s always been that way. Even when the winery first started. He’s one of the most level-headed people I’ve ever met. As I’m sure you’ve come to find out, he puts everything he has into the vineyard. Win or lose, he’s proud of it.”
“Well, I’m looking forward to having a bottle or two tonight.” I smile and rise from my stool.
“Or three or four or five,” Paige says with a sly smile. Teresa gives her the typical stern motherly look and Paige just shrugs.
“What, Mom? It’s the wine festival!”
“You just better be careful, young lady. I won’t be bailing you out.”
“Oh my God, Mom. Seriously? I think we’ll be okay. Right, Xander?”
“Don’t you worry Teresa. I’ll make sure she stays out of trouble.” I stand and slip the stool back under the work station. “Anyways, I should probably get back before boss-man starts cutting my pay.”
“Oh, you’re definitely docked at least a hundred dollars already. Keep it up and you’ll soon be working for free,” Teresa says, laughing and pretending to crack a whip. She stands and walks over to me, wrapping me up in a hug. She’s a hugger, all right.
“Uh huh. Figures you’d talk crap and then hightail it out of here.”
“Bye, Paige,” I say, a smile spread wide across my face.
“Bye, Xander.”
The sky is full of beautiful amber and fiery orange as the sun dips into the horizon. The evening breeze sways the tree branches rhythmically. It’s so damn beautiful in this part of the country at this time of year—better than any place I’ve been so far.
The rocker creaks and groans against the guesthouse porch as my foot bobs back and forth. I fall into somewhat of a trance, the beauty of the country settling me.
I have an ice cold beer in my hand, one of several I’ve had while waiting. I try my best to keep my white button-up stain free, which, for me, is a feat in and of itself…beers or not. It’s one of the many things Jack and I have in common.
I’m not often a man who spends a lot of time in front of the mirror, but tonight I had reason. Though it pains me to admit it, I spent twenty-something minutes getting my hair just right—and shamefully scowling back at myself, of course.
But what can I say? I’ve never craved someone like I do Paige, and while I know all the reasons she and I can’t hook up, it just makes the prospect of it that much more appealing.
It makes her untouchable. And I like untouchable. That’s not something a man can even help.
Jack and Teresa have already made their way to the festival. We set everything up earlier, but Jack has to get his pinot noir in to the judges. Paige and Brandi are on something like the second hour of getting ready, but with a few beers and the evening as beautiful as it is, I don’t mind the wait.
We can’t leave until Ethan gets here anyway. Brandi made sure he would be available to DD tonight. Probably a good idea as I can hear the girls whooping it up in the main house with 90’s hip-hop blaring, likely on their second or third glass of wine.
It usually takes five minutes to get into town, but it took us a good twenty this go-around and ten more to find a good parking spot. Plenty of time for the women to fill the SUV with a flurry of rap lines, make-up touch-ups and tipsy selfies… and for us men to sit in the front in awkward silence. If traffic were any indication, the entire town truly does come out for this thing.
Roads are blocked off and people walk the brightly lit downtown area in all directions. Rows of tables with tents and various community entities are in every direction. There’s Whittaker’s serving sliders and craft beer, Brooke’s Books with new and used paperbacks, and Sunshine Cleaners with business cards and smiling faces. Archie’s Sporting Goods has set up a basketball net, and there’s a line of excited kids alongside the table. VFW Post 63 is located beside them, taking donations, and you can’t miss the Club Rapid girls with over-sweetened shots and skimpy clothes.
Then you have all the wineries. They make up the bulk of the tables, and each one offers free samples. The sight instantly gets me excited. My buzz is already well on its way and free alcohol shines like a beacon of continued happiness. In the middle of everything, set up in the town square is a huge dance floor with a stage set behind it and a band pumping out 80’s rock.
“Dad and Mom are way in the back… in front of the shop. It’s way too far of a walk not to stop for a few samples first,” Paige says, winking at me and pulling Brandi to the first booth. The banner reads: Aerie’s Wineries - Grafton, Illinois. “Four Adlerschreiens, please.” She turns back to me. “This is one of my favorites!”
By the time we make it to the Watsons’ tents, we’ve had about a hundred samples. A warmth coats my face and crawls slowly up and down my arms. The corners of my mouth ache from smiling. I’m not even quite sure what I’ve been smiling about.
Just below the massive Watson Metalworks sign, there are two tables with tents over them. One table sports a banner for the winery and has the three different wines we produce in a hundred tiny plastic cups. On the other table, there are two sculptures. One is of a dragon poised to attack, and the other is a medieval warrior made from various everyday items. His helmet is a small stainless steel bowl, his jaw part of a bike chain with screws for teeth. In his hand, he’s wielding a mace made out of an egg beater and screws.
“Hey, guys! You finally made it!” Teresa says, her voice registering at a high drunken octave. She walks around the table and gives both girls their hugs. Ethan and I are next. “Grab some wine! Xander, have you been able to try any yet?” Without letting me answer, she snatches up a few plastic cups and distributes them to each of us.
“I’ve had a few, but I’ve saved the best for last!” I take the cup from her and down it.
“That’s what I like to hear,” Teresa says slipping two more cups into my hands.
“Paige, have you taken him to Aeries?” She looks at me. “Aeries is our favorite. After ours, of course”
“Yes, Mom, that was our first stop?” Paige scans the crowd, nervously. It seems as if she’s looking for something—or someone.
“I haven’t seen him yet,” Teresa says.
Paige turns quickly to look at her. “I just didn’t want any surprises.”
“Fuck him! He’s not going to ruin our night!” Brandi says, a drunken slur beginning to make itself known. She grabs another cup anyways. Ethan tries to grab one as well, but Brandi shoots him a glare. “You better watch it, you gotta drive me home!”
Ethan rolls his eyes, but does as he’s told and lets go of the cup.
“Mom, we’re going to go walk around a little bit. Where’s Dad?” Paige asks.
“He’s talking with the judges in the judges’ tent. If you head there now, you should be able to catch him.”
Brandi passes around two more cups a piece to all those allowed to drink and we finish them off before departing.
The judges’ tent isn’t far and sits just behind the stage. T
he blaring amps send vibrations throughout my body. The pulse of the drums makes me wish I had my guitar. I’ve never experienced playing on stage, or with a band. I was always too nervous to play in front of people. But it’s something I’ve dreamed about since I was a little kid. Losing myself to the music. Letting the sound, the beat, the words, and the pain take over. And then—to let it all go.
Just as we reach the tent, Jack comes barreling out, his face bright red and a huge six-beers-down grin plastered on his face. He takes Paige into his arms, lifting her slightly off the ground and shaking her gently.
“My princess!”
“Daddy!” Paige giggles. “Let me down!”
He finally does and puts his hand out for me. I take it, and he pulls me in for a bro hug. Surprised, I accept it, and out of the corner of my eye, I can see Ethan shooting me a sour look, his brow furrowed.
I give Jack a couple extra pats on the back for good measure and then pull away.
“Xander, my boy, good work this week. Now, come get a beer with me. This fucker Stan, whom I usually deny being friends with, makes a damn good APA. Oh, Ethan, you come too, man.”
Jack leads the two of us away, and I hear Brandi chuckling behind us. I turn and wave, primarily to Paige, but they both wave back.
“Bye bye, afterthought!” Brandi’s words have some bite to them, and Ethan glares back at her. Jack hardly notices, while I’m stifling a laugh of my own.
After three beers with Jack and Stan, along with the generous amount of wine samples, I’m stumbling a bit as I make my way through the crowd. Ethan struggles to keep up. I walk with a purpose and I know only one speed.
“Hey, man,” he says, still trying to catch up.
I don’t slow my step, or even turn back to him. From over my shoulder, I ask, “What’s up?”
“Hey, man,” he repeats, “can we slow down a little? We don’t even know where they are.” Ethan finally makes it to my side, and I see sweat has taken up most of his forehead and his glasses are fogged. A greasy sheen coats his forehead. I slow up a little as he removes his glasses and wipes them down with his shirt.
“I don’t have either of their numbers,” I say. “Did you text them?”
“Yeah. They haven’t texted back. You don’t have Paige’s number?”
“No.”
“Why not?
“I don’t know. There hasn’t been a need, I guess. Why?”
“Oh, just curious. You guys seem to be hitting it off. I figured you would’ve already exchanged numbers by this point… if not more.”
The condescending way he says that stops me in my tracks. After a few steps, he stops too.
“You got a problem with me, man? I work with the Watsons… Paige is a friend. Whatever it is you have in your head, get rid of it.” I keep my tone neutral—or as neutral as I can—but I’d like to take his glasses off his fucking face and throw them. Would I be allowed to hit him then?
“I just want to know what your intentions are with Paige. She’s a dear friend of mine. It’s my business to ensure her…um…safety. I feel that way for all the Watsons.”
I want to tell the fucker I’m pretty sure Paige only keeps him around out of pity—and Brandi because he’s her lap dog. But I hold back. I’m not going to stir up any shit with a friend of the family.
“Listen, you don’t know me, man, and I don’t know what relationship you have with the Watsons. While I can respect it, you also need to know I’m not going to put up with this shit. I’m not trying to judge you, because I don’t know you. Do me a favor and show me the same respect.”
I turn and walk away without letting him get a word in. When I spot the Watsons’ tents and Teresa drinking from a large wine glass behind the table, I breathe a sigh of relief.
“Hey, man,” Ethan calls out from behind me, his voice grating my nerves. “No need to get harsh with it. I’m just looking out.”
I don’t bother looking back—or even answering, for that matter. Instead, I greet Teresa with a smile. “Hey, Teresa…have you seen Paige and Brandi?” I ask, just as Ethan catches up.
“Hey, guys! They were just here to grab a bottle, and I believe they were headed toward the dance floor.” She looks at her wrist as if a watch is there. “It’s about that time anyways, if I know my daughter!” She smiles widely and offers up a glass of wine—in a real glass this time—which I happily accept.
“Are you having a good time?” she asks, eyeing me as I take a big drink. She readies the bottle for another pour. Their pinot noir truly is a thing of beauty.
“I’m having a great time!” I nearly shout, but not on purpose. “Jack took us over to Stan’s, and we had about a keg of craft beer. It was like I was in heaven. The guy had some great war stories too. I could’ve sat there all day.”
“Oh god, Stan is something else. Only believe half of what you hear. He’s harmless though. Well, go find the girls, and here”—she fills my glass almost to the top—“take some for the road.” She lifts the bottle up for Ethan, but he waves her off. I lift the glass to Teresa in thanks and make my way to find Paige and Brandi with Ethan close behind.
I’m so drunk I don’t feel like I have control over my arms anymore, as if they’re completely separate from my body. The wine bottle I snagged from Mom is just moments from shattering into a hundred pieces all over the dance floor as Brandi and I make our way across it. Brandi periodically snatches my arm for balance which threatens to bring the both of us down.
The band is playing a killer version of “Sweet Home Alabama,” and she and I are doing our best to make complete asses out of ourselves. When I see Xander heading toward us, my brain tells me to stop dancing like an idiot, but my body doesn’t respond. I continue gyrating and thrusting as if I popped right out of an 80’s music video. Instead of laughing at me, Xander hops onto the dance floor and starts doing the most ridiculous “lawn mower” move I’ve ever seen. He quickly shifts to a lassoing cowboy that draws laughter from some of the others on the dance floor, but he hardly notices. He keeps going until he’s just a foot away. I stop dancing and look back at Brandi to see if she’s seeing his sweet moves, but she’s in her own little world right now. I then see Ethan glaring intently at Xander as he dances, a judgmental look on his face. Brandi takes a seat at the table just to our right, pulls her heels off and tilts her head back with a sigh of relief.
I look back to Xander, who has stopped dancing, and I grab his hand to pull him toward the table. “I think it’s time to crack this bottle open. What do you say?” I ask.
“Sounds like a damn good plan,” Xander says, taking a seat and tugging his shirt back and forth for circulation. Sweat has taken up much of his v-neck and he looks completely uncomfortable.
“Where did you guys disappear to anyways?” I ask taking my own seat next to him.
“We were at Stan’s the whole time. That dude can talk.”
I laugh. “Tell me about it. You oughta see him and Dad out by the fire pit with a case of beer. It’s a riot!”
“I can only imagine,” Xander says. Ethan joins us at the table. He crosses his arms and wears a pathetic frown. I try my best to ignore him as Xander continues. “It’s like a never ending pissing contest. Which is fucking great as a bystander.”
“Yeah, it’s free entertainment. Can’t beat that, baby.” Though my ‘baby’ was completely innocent, I see Ethan cringe and he grumbles under his breath.
“Who drove a stick up your ass, Ethan?” I ask.
“Well, Paige, it’s not always fun being the DD.” He snarls a little, showing the slight yellow stain of his teeth.
“Give me a break! You don’t even like drinking that much,” Brandi says to him as she struggles to pull the cork from the bottle.
Xander finally takes it from her and finishes the job, pouring a glass for each of us—including Ethan. He holds it out to him as Ethan inspects the glass.
“DD can have a little, too,” Xander says. “Take it, bro.” Ethan reluctantly accepts the
glass and eases up, nodding his head toward Xander in appreciation.
We’re enjoying our wine and resting our feet when the band starts playing the first few notes of “Sweet Child O’ Mine”. I just can’t help myself. I grab Xander’s hand and drag him toward the dance floor. He only fights it for a moment.
Once on the dance floor, he takes my other hand and whisks me around effortlessly. To my surprise, he can actually dance. Moving and swaying to the music, he guides me so well I don’t even have to think. I’m relieved to know the “white boy” dancing was just an act, though this man could make just about anything look good.
As the band hits the chorus, I start to lose myself in the moment with Xander. My hands are held gently in his. His eyes get lost in my own, and a smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. Then, as he spins me, I catch Brandi coming toward me quickly from the corner of my eye. Concern is etched on her face. From behind her, I see my ex barreling forward, his eyes glazed over and mouth open. We’ve stopped dancing and both Xander and I watch and wait. Xander steps in front of me as Cody approaches. Behind Cody are his lackeys, Russ and Benji.
Benji has one of his sausage fingers outstretched and pointed right at Xander.
“That’s the motherfucker from Whittaker’s, Cody. That motherfucker right there!”
The three of them stop in front of us. Cody, who is at least two inches taller than Xander and about two times wider thanks to a weekly shot of testosterone, sizes Xander up. The other two are even bigger, but Xander stands firm. Ethan and Brandi are standing, but staying back.
“You know that’s my woman, right, boy?” As usual, Cody is chewing on a toothpick that sits in the corner of his mouth. While he’s talking, it bobs as his lips move.
“From what I hear, she hasn’t been your woman for quite some time.” Xander stands taller now, though I didn’t think it was possible. “And from what I see, you’re drunk as fuck, high on something, and interrupting a damn good time.”
