Double Shot

by Chris Bostic

  “Just kidding, fellas,” I said.

  I took a slight sip and swished the bourbon around my mouth to coat the tongue like a good taster. Then I followed it up with another, bigger drink.

  “That’s exceptional,” I said, and meant it. “I can’t hardly believe the others would be better.”

  “There was another contender.” James offered me a glass.

  I couldn’t possibly turn it down, so I repeated the same process of sniffing, swirling, and choking it down.

  “That’s very smooth too,” I said. “Probably so good I wouldn’t even call it Drummer Boy.”

  “It’s the same mash bill as the DB,” Tim noted for the group.

  “DB,” James chuckled, looking at Paul.

  I almost made a comment in which I called a client a douche bag, but managed to keep it professional.

  “They’re all DBs, right?” I gestured to the open barrels as I asked Tim—all while thinking more about the clients than the mash bills.

  “Yeah, but we apparently had a couple of extraordinary runs off the still.”

  “Indeed.” I pointed back to the first one and told James, “I’m still a fan of the first sample, but the second is a solid choice too.”

  “You do have a taste for good whiskey,” James told me. “Very impressive.” He turned to Clarice. “You know I’ve been thinkin’ we need a good Assistant Spirits Manager to help me out.”

  “Oh, no.” Clarice surprised me with her sudden defense. “We couldn’t possibly let Hope go. She’s gonna be handling our new fall campaign.”

  I made a mental note to bring that up when my yearly review came around, or sooner for a salary discussion, but realized I’d probably forget before the day was over. Especially after James handed me another large glass.

  “See what you think about this one. You might be surprised.”

  I swirled it around first, admiring the darker color. Always the mark of a higher proof or well-aged whiskey. The wood notes in the scent confirmed the latter.

  “Definitely older.” I sniffed again. “Very mature.” I took a quick sip, and said, “Ooh. That’s a solid contender if you’re into the oaky flavor profile.”

  “He picked some good ones,” James said, pointing to Tim. “He’s made it tough on us.”

  “I’d still go with the first,” I said, now fully involved in the conversation. Basically taking it over. “It’s exceptional and I dare say smoother than this last one.”

  “Interesting.” Paul asked, “So you really think the first one?”

  “Absolutely. Any basic noob customer is gonna love it, and no doubt the veterans will certainly appreciate it too. I don’t think the third one with all that extra oak will have as wide of an appeal.”

  “That’s a good point, young lady,” James said and turned to Clarice again. “Man, she’s a smart one too. We really need to talk.”

  Damn, I thought as I settled back to let them talk amongst themselves. It’s almost like I know what I’m talking about.

  After a little more discussion, James said, “We’re gonna go with the first one, but….”

  An awkward pause lingered as James turned to me. I thought he might repeat something like how I had to come work for him, and I would have given that serious consideration. But only after determining if Paul would be around to meddle, or whatever, in the new position.

  James didn’t quite go that far. Instead, he said, “We’re good only if Hope will come to the kickoff. I’d love to have her host some group tastings for the rollout, and the big unveiling of our new tasting room.”

  I was taken aback for a moment, temporarily forgetting anything to do with shadowy figures and the boom. Or even Lee.

  “Oh yeah. Good idea, partner. We’ve gotta have her help show off the barrel pick,” Paul said, basically parroting what James had said, but in his own uniquely creepy way.

  For a second, I got the weird idea he was going to say something like how I’d be perfect for pin-up calendar girl marketing crap. A scowl threatened to break out as I conjured the image of me parading around in a bikini and heels. No way in hell was I doing that.

  “We’ll need her to explain the whole barrel picking process,” James clarified before my mind went completely off the deep end. “Then she can do a little discussion on mash bills and aging and all that good stuff.”

  My almost foul mood disappeared in a hurry. I perked up as he finished the description.

  “Then we’ll have her lead a tasting at the end, and talk about the nose and all the different flavors and such. Our high-end customers really appreciate those workshops, almost as much as the newer drinkers.”

  Paul jumped in to say, “You were exactly right, Hope. This barrel is perfect for experienced drinkers and the newer ones. It was the obvious choice.”

  “So what do you say?” James asked, looking right at me. “Can we count you in?”

  Clarice jumped in without giving me a chance to respond, saying, “I think we can arrange that.”

  “Sounds great,” I said when she was done. “I think I’d like that.”

  “Great. It’s a deal.” James and Paul shook hands with Tim while I sidled off to lean against the rick again.

  I instantly obsessed over what the future held, not in a bad way. There was no way not to be at least a little excited about it.

  Other than Paul being more than a little creepy, I thought I could get along with James. Besides, I knew it might do me some good to get out and work on more of the sales and marketing angle with the actual clients.

  As much as I liked working on ad campaigns, it had to beat taking promotional pictures and then spending hours behind a desk photoshopping them.

  But first, I’d have to do a little studying up.

  I knew I’d have some time. It generally took six to eight weeks to get a barrel pick bottled and shipped through the distributor to the store.

  What I didn’t know was how long it would actually take—and how much I would have to go through to finally get to that point. Especially over the next several hours.

  Lee gave me an inkling. While paperwork for the barrel purchase was signed and the men chatted, Clarice and I pulled out our phones. She started tapping away. I held mine at arm’s length and nearly dropped it.

  In the last couple minutes, Lee had sent multiple messages reading.

  Sit tight

  Pls stay there

  I’ll come 4 U

  CHAPTER 7

  “What the fuck?” I uttered, drawing a sharp look from Clarice.

  She screwed up her face at my unprofessional cursing. “Say what?”

  Before I could answer, my phone rang.

  “Lee, what’s goin’ on?”

  “You still in H?” He sounded breathless or panicked, maybe both. It instantly sent my heart racing again.

  “Yeah. What’s-”

  “Great. Don’t move, okay? I’m on the way.”

  The phone clicked dead. I looked at it to verify no connection and still ended up holding it to my ear again.

  “Something wrong?” Clarice asked, surely able to see the stunned, yet confused, expression on my face.

  “Maybe?” I shook my head to clear the cobwebs. “Lee says we need to stay here, like we’re going on lockdown or something.”

  She frowned but somehow managed to keep herself from interrupting me.

  “I guess that means we’re supposed to shelter in place or whatever,” I said, using air quotes on the shelter part. “He’s coming to us.”

  “Interesting.” She plastered on a look somewhere between confused and bored. “Guess we’ll hang out here for a while and see what he has to say when he gets here.” She nodded with her head toward the clients. “Might as well keep making this fun for them.”

  I had no idea how to accomplish that other than to keep providing samples, but that seemed odd seeing how they’d already made their choice. Plus, I sure didn’t need any more.

  Clarice went back on her phone, m
umbling, “Funny nobody told me anything.”

  When Tim looked up, she subtly waved him over.

  I wasn’t sure what to do about the clients. It didn’t seem right to leave them in the dark, but Clarice never thought twice about those kinds of things. It was always all about her.

  Then again, I couldn’t see telling them anything when no one really knew what was going on.

  Though tempted to go back over to the window, I kept staring at my phone for a while, waiting for Lee to call or text back. Nothing ever came. Probably because he’d already told me he was coming, or so I could only assume.

  Eventually I decided I should slip over to the door to wait for him. When I told my coworkers, Clarice and Tim had different ideas.

  “I can crack a couple more barrels,” Tim suggested after pulling out an outdated flip phone as thick as a brick and checking for messages. “Nothing,” he reported. “Maybe we’ll try a different brand and get ‘em thinking about coming back for another store pick.”

  “Sounds good to me,” Clarice whispered back. “Let’s do it.”

  I didn’t quite agree, but being the low woman on the totem pole didn’t typically earn me a vote.

  “We’re gonna stay here for a while,” Tim said loud enough for the clients to hear him.

  I expected one of my coworkers would have suggested calling 911, but neither showed any sign of doing that. Much less calling anyone else.

  With a phone practically glued in her hand, Clarice kept flipping back and forth between text messages and social media like a schoolgirl. I couldn’t help but reflect on how she was a fair amount older, but tried to act just like my generation. Particularly when it came to her phone.

  I would have texted 911 if it was possible. I had to wonder if Clarice would have too, but she seemed more interested in socializing than anything else as she finally put away her cell to cozy up to the clients. Especially Paul for some unknown reason.

  I turned up my nose as I hit the phone icon on my cell and then pulled up the keypad. My finger hovered over the 9 button. Doubts lingered.

  Maybe Lee already called.

  Or not.

  I looked to the others jabbering away without a care in the world and decided I wouldn’t mention it to them. But I could still make the call.

  And then what?

  Seeing how I wasn’t willing to announce my own insecurities to the whole group, I didn’t know what I would tell the operator.

  It was my typical reaction in basically every situation. I always found it better to keep quiet and wait for word then stir up a frenzy. Especially if it all turned out wrong.

  The longer Lee took to get to me, the more I thought I might be mistaken about what I’d heard. So, as the others gathered around a couple more barrels that had been pulled aside for an earlier tasting group, I escaped farther from the little huddle to head to the nearest window, once again looking outside.

  All seemed quiet, including the pasture field wilting to a pale brown in the summer heat. The distant trees waved in a breeze that we desperately needed inside the rack house.

  Clarice briefly stepped off to the side to ask, “Anything out there?”

  “I don’t see a thing.”

  She seemed satisfied with that answer and went back to schmoozing the clients.

  For a moment, I thought we might have been better off outside and in danger than inside a sauna. But I had no idea what the danger was.

  “Figures,” I mumbled. “This shit keeps up and I’ve gotta get outta the distillery business.”

  I let me mind drift to what James had said. I tried to imagine myself working in the grocery office rather than out among the rack houses and gift shops where everyone wanted to rob us.

  I opened my eyes at the sound of clicking heels. Clarice had slipped over to me again.

  “I guess someone needs to find out what’s goin’ on,” she said to where only I could hear her. Yet she sure didn’t show much sign of urgency other than to be annoyed about the lack of contact with the outside world. “Bethany’s not answering me.”

  When the clients picked a couple of glasses up off the table for a taste, she pulled the Master Distiller aside again, to say, “Tim, nobody will answer me. How about you?”

  “Nothing yet.” He opened and quickly closed his flip phone.

  “Huh. Well, oookay.” She looked up from her phone to me. “Anything from Lee?”

  “Nothing yet,” I answered. “I’m not sure where he’s at, but he said he’s coming. I guess I can go look if you like.”

  “Yeah, go,” she said in a heartbeat. “We’ll wait here with these gentlemen.”

  I hadn’t completely meant it, but I wasn’t opposed to it either. Still I chafed at the idea of being sent out into the great unknown. Evidently my superiors didn’t care for my safety, since they didn’t offer any objection to me running off on my own.

  So I swallowed at the ball of stress building at the back of my throat and ended up choking, thanks to my thick, dry mouth.

  “Hold on…a minute,” I croaked between coughs, as Tim clapped me on the back. “I need a drink.”

  James heard that and held up a glass of whiskey, which might have done me some good in calming my nerves. But not much else.

  “No, thanks. I’m good right now,” I said, and brushed past him to finally get to the water pitcher.

  I filled a tasting glass to overflowing, and sucked it all down four big gulps. Then poured more, all while stifling a burp, as such a display in front of the clients would have been utterly unladylike.

  “Here I go,” I said as I walked down the aisle away from them, wondering if anyone would volunteer to do the looking, or at least come with me.

  Not a soul.

  My feet shuffled as I slow walked down the hallway, trying to keep my breathing even. My heart still pounded, rattling my chest.

  I cursed under my breath. There was no reason other than a possible gunshot and a few vague texts.

  What more reason do I need?

  That seemed like plenty to me. I cursed myself again.

  When I slowly opened the door at the end of the rack house, there wasn’t a soul moving around outside either. At least not close.

  Nothing moved in the tree line, though I only had a partial view because of the way the building blocked me.

  After a long look at a small area, I turned my attention back across the complex toward the gift shop. Though I couldn’t see the office or the bulk of the production building due to an adjacent structure, I caught sight of the tower that housed our five-story column still protruding in the distance above the roofline of Rack House C.

  Having looked every direction, I concluded there was no sign of movement anywhere. Neither people nor vehicles.

  I listened for a moment and didn’t hear anything alarming either.

  “This is so weird,” I mumbled to myself.

  The doubts settled in.

  It was nothing like my last encounter at a distillery, where a huge gang of thugs came rolling into the complex in delivery vans, shouting and shooting their way into the gift shop and then across the campus.

  I checked my phone again. Still nothing.

  Lee’s last words got me thinking. He was coming to us. I should stay.

  I looked back across the property. I’d seen enough to know we were not in imminent danger.

  I should go back to the others, but….

  That’s not what I did. Hope Fields didn’t take the easy way out. She checked out every possible lead and didn’t turn around and shirk from danger. Not if Lee needed me.

  He would know that I would come after him if he couldn’t get to me. I always had his back, though it had taken me a while last time to really grasp the magnitude of what that meant.

  Two dead robbers later, and I knew all too well.

  I still saw them in my nightmares. Increasingly less frequently, but always as vivid as the day it had happened.

  I saw myself behind the bar, lyin
g in wait, when the two heads appeared from the stairs. Then the shouts, the threats, and a bang! Multiple times.

  I swore I heard gunshots again. Not just in my dreams.

  So much for going to Lee.

  I dropped to a crouch. My head went on a swivel, looking everywhere but nowhere at the same time.

  “Dammit,” I muttered, foolishly stepping farther away from the building into the wide open.

  I tried to reassure myself. It hadn’t been anywhere as loud as before, but it still seemed unadvisable to not worry given the situation.

  More distant shots erupted, rolling over the complex like dull booms rather than sharp earsplitting blasts. Too many to count, but nowhere near the rapid fire of the shootout I’d witnessed at Bison Fork. Just deliberate shots, a second or two between each. Not getting any louder. Definitely not close.

  Not fireworks, though I reconsidered that determination a couple different times.

  I creeped to my left, heading toward the side of the building facing the pasture and the bulk of the tree line. At the corner, I paused to listen.

  All grew quiet again.

  No shots rang out. So I turned the corner still in a crouch, and stayed there, unwilling to advance down the side of the building, as I inspected every inch of the tree line for shadowy figures.

  My mind raced, again inventing things from the shadows.

  I should have gone back inside, but I couldn’t tear myself away from the fantasy.

  I’d pledged to find out what was going on. It would have been easy enough to circle back to the door and tell them nothing…and wait for Lee.

  But it was just as easy to sit and listen.

  Besides the little breeze helped a touch. It probably would have helped a whole lot more if not for the churning in my stomach. But the sweat on my brow appreciated something a touch cooler, if more stressful.

  I curled into an upright ball and settled back against the metal siding, using the structure to help balance me. Ethanol fungus be damned. My dress was already dirty.

  I closed my eyes for a second to let a little wind gust wash over me. It felt great, but carried with it the sound of another boom. A second or two later, something chimed off the metal somewhere way above me.