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Hey, Whiskey by Kaylee Ryan (2)

 

 

My eyes are crossed. I’ve looked at these production reports all damn day. Sitting back in my chair, I turn to face the window. Leaning back, I place my hands behind my head and close my eyes. I just need a minute.

“Mr. Baxter,” my receptionist, Carrie, buzzes the intercom, causing me to groan.

Swiveling around in my chair, I push the button, “Yes, Carrie.”

“Mr. Baxter has requested to see you.”

You heard her correctly. The Mr. Baxter she speaks of is my father. Rhett Baxter the second. My grandfather and I are subsequently numbers one and three. “I’ll be right there.” Standing, I grab my phone and head down the hall to his office. I wave at Betty, his longtime receptionist, before lightly knocking on his door. “You wanted to see me?” I ask, walking on in, not waiting for him to give me permission to enter.

“Have a seat, son,” Dad says. His jaw is locked, and his eyes are somber.

“What’s wrong?”

“It’s your grandfather. He’s taken ill.”

I move to the edge of my seat. “What happened?”

“Looks as though all his years of smoking like a freight train have caught up with him. He’s been diagnosed with emphysema and subsequently fallen ill with pneumonia.”

“How is he?”

“Same old firecracker, but he’s going to be out for a while. We’re going to need to have someone step in until then, and well, he’s saying he doesn’t need the help, but I know better. Your mother and I discussed and we want you to go.”

“Me?” I ask, although I shouldn’t be surprised. I spent every summer with my grandfather. Mom and Dad would come and visit every other weekend, and Mom always tried to convince me to come home. I always refused. I loved every minute of every summer I got to spend with him.

“Yeah. I know you’re in the middle of the quarterly reports. Brief me on where you are, and I’ll take over.”

“Okay. Carrie’s aware of where I am with all of my projects as well. She’s actually very knowledgeable, you can lean on her as well.”

Dad nods. “I’m sure we’ll have to do that. Your mother and I will take over your workload for now.”

“Is that a good idea?” I ask. My mom is recovering from a recent car accident. After several surgeries, she’s finally able to walk on crutches. A drunk driver T-boned her coming home from the grocery store. That made big headlines. Owner of Baxter’s Brewery, hit by a drunk driver. It was weeks before the vultures, who make up the press, moved on to something else.

He shrugs. “You know your mother. She’s been itching to come back to work for weeks now, and I’ve been able to hold her off. When we got the call this morning about Dad, she wouldn’t take no for an answer.”

“Stubborn as ever,” I say with a laugh. My mom is one of the greatest people I know. Both of my parents are. They always made time for me, and I admit, growing up, I was spoiled, hence the reason they let me stay with grandpa all summer. Being their only child, they hated being away from me but knew that both me and Gramps valued those summers we got to spend together. The compromise was their every-other-week visits. Excessive yes, but it wasn’t a hardship for us. Sometimes they would drive, making the eight or so hour trip from Tennessee. Usually it was a flight, so they could get back to the brewery on Monday.

“Looks like you’re moving from beer to whiskey.” Dad grins.

Did I forget to mention that my grandfather owns Baxter’s Distillery? My dad, as headstrong as ever, thought he knew better, more than Gramps, and branched out on his own. He and my mom opened Baxter’s Brewery. Dad and Gramps had a few rocky years when I was a baby, but by the time I was old enough to understand, all has been right in our world. They now share ideas and even marketing for both businesses.

I chuckle. “Looks like it. I miss that place. It’s been years since I’ve spent any time there. Summer before college, I guess.”

“Sounds about right,” Dad agrees. “Your mother and I are leaving tonight to go see him. I booked you a flight for Monday morning. That gives you today and tomorrow to wrap up and delegate anything here. Allows you the weekend to get ready to be gone for a few weeks. That enough time?” he asks.

I mentally run through it all. Nothing at home; I’m a single guy living alone. As far as work goes, I can make it happen. “Yeah, that works. Tell Gramps I’ll see him in a few days.”

“Will do.”

After a quick goodbye, I head back toward my office. “Hey, Carrie, I have to go out of town for an undisclosed amount of time. My mom will be coming in to cover, as well as my dad.” I still refer to them as Mom and Dad here at the office. It’s a family run business after all. However, our staff never refer to them that way when speaking to me. They always maintain full professionalism.

“What can I do?” she asks immediately.

“I’m going to wrap up these quarterly reports, and can you make sure Dad gets them? I also have a few meetings on my calendar. Can you reach out and let them know they will be meeting with my mother instead. Don’t want anyone getting pissed off because they’re caught off guard.”

“Done. You need me to book a flight?”

“No, that’s done. My gramps is ill, so I need to go fill in for him while he’s recovering. I’m not sure how long I’ll be gone. Two weeks or so, maybe longer. You can e-mail anything that comes up that you’re not sure about. Mom has a good handle on the operations, so I don’t foresee any issues.”

“I put the Big Marketplace contract on your desk. There is a counteroffer.”

I sigh and run my fingers through my hair. “Thanks. I’ll look it over and make my notes. Can you make sure Dad gets it on Monday? They’re leaving tonight to go see Gramps.”

“Sure thing, Mr. Baxter. Anything else?”

“Uh… not yet, but I’m sure there will be. Thanks, Carrie.” I head back to my office, and before I dive into the Big Marketplace contract, I pull out my phone and text Jake. He lives in West Virginia. His uncle was a local bar owner and did business with Gramps. Every day during the summer, he and I were out getting into something. We’ve kept in touch over the years. As a matter of fact, it was last year about this time he brought his now fiancée, Molly, to Nashville and we met up.

 

Me: Hey, man. I’m going to be in town next week and staying for a few. I’ll hit you up when I get settled.

 

Jake: I was just telling Molly that I needed to get ahold of you. How’s he doing?

 

Of course, Jake would already know about Gramps. Gramps and his uncle Jerry are best friends. The four of us spent a lot of time together during my summers in West Virginia.

 

Me: Okay. My parents are flying in tonight. He just needs rest, so I’m filling in until then.

 

Jake: You always said you would take over one day.

 

Me: And you said you would run the bar. How’s that going by the way?

 

Jake: Good. Molly and I are kicking ass and taking names. Made some changes.

 

Me: All right, man. I’ll reach out next week after I get settled.

 

Jake: You know where to find me.

 

Placing my phone on the desk, I open the thick manila file folder sitting in front of me. Time to bust this out. One less thing Dad will have to take care of while I’m gone. I get lost in the reports; numbers this quarter are good. It’s not until Carrie knocks on my door to tell me she’s leaving for the day that I even realize the time. Just about another hour and this is done. Grabbing my phone, I send my buddy Doug a quick message. We are supposed to meet up for drinks tonight.

 

Me: Hey, man. I’m here for at least another hour. Bump it back to 8?

 

Doug: That works.

 

Tossing my phone back on my desk, I push through the final numbers and call it a day. Gathering up my computer and a few files I can work with remotely, I head home. I have a list of things for Carrie that I can send her this weekend.

Reaching my condo, I drop my bag on the couch and make my way to the shower. My intention was to be quick, but the hot spray feels fantastic on my sore muscles. Sitting in front of the computer screen all day, staring at numbers, has my shoulders tense.

Quickly dressing due to my long-ass shower, I grab my phone, wallet, and keys before rushing out the door. My stomach growls, thankfully the pub we’re going to has great food. I can cook, but cooking for one seems like a waste of time. Besides, this is our guys’ night tradition.

Pulling into the pub, I park next to Doug’s Lexus. He’s a big shot engineer. I swear, when we met in college and he told me he was an engineering student, I didn’t believe him. Long hair, ink, and always the life of the party—I was sure it wouldn’t last. I was wrong. He met Dawn, his now wife, a few months later, and suddenly he was on the straight and narrow. She’s good for him. He’s lucky. He found one of the good ones. Doug comes from money too. His father owns the biggest development company in Tennessee. When girls find out we have money, they’re like vultures. His wife is a saint for dealing with it. They’re not deterred from his wedding band. Sure, when I was younger, not that I’m an old man at twenty-five, but in my college days, it made pussy easy. I never had to work for it. Now, it’s getting old fast. You never know who you can trust and, honestly, easy pussy just isn’t doing it for me anymore.

“Baxter!” I hear my name called as soon as I walk through the door. Looking to the back corner, I see Doug in our usual spot.

“Hey,” I slide into the booth across from him.

Doug turns to look across the room before he acknowledges me. This could only mean one thing. Dawn is here for girls’ night too. “Hey,” he finally says, taking a big sip of his beer.

I motion with my head to where Dawn and her friends are sitting. “They can join us.”

He doesn’t hesitate to slide out of the booth and stalk toward his wife. I watch him go and immediately see what the issue is. Two guys in business suits are chatting up the table of four women. Doug is territorial over Dawn, as he should be. I’m sure she would disagree with that statement, but you can’t let another man mess with what’s yours. Not even a minute later, Dawn and her friend, Tessa, join us. I slide over in the booth, so Tessa can sit. I try not to groan that she’s the one that joined us out of the three. Tessa is a good friend to Dawn, at least that’s what Doug tells me, but the girl is relentless with her pursuit to get me in bed. I’ve came close a few nights, too much alcohol swaying my decision, but I always come to my senses before it’s too late. Tessa is one of those girls, the vultures that want to latch on and never let go. I’ll pass.

“Hey, Rhett,” she coos. Yeah, she cooed, and let me tell you, it’s not attractive, not at all.

“Hi.” I take a drink of my beer, not wanting to give her any ammunition.

“Thanks for the invite,” she says, her voice is husky, but not naturally so. She’s trying to be sexy, and it’s not working for her. Not even close.

“Dawn is always welcome,” I say, looking up at her. “Hey, D.” I wink.

She laughs, and Doug gives me the “don’t wink at my wife” look. I just chuckle under my breath. He’s too damn easy to rile up when it comes to her.

“Long day?” Dawn asks with soft laughter.

“You could say that. I have to fly out to West Virginia on Monday.”

“What’s up with that?” Doug asks.

I ignore Tessa beside me hanging on every word, trying to find her in. “Gramps is sick. He needs to be off a few weeks, and he’s been running things all on his own. He’s kind of a control freak.”

Doug laughs. “You mentioned that. That’s why your dad went out on his own, right?”

“Pretty much. At least that’s what they tell me.”

“Oh, you poor thing,” Tessa says, her small hands and tiger claw nails clamping around my bicep.

Seriously, do woman think mile-long nails turn a guy on? I mean, I’m all for some scratches on my chest and back, not a man out there who isn’t, but those things, fuck me, they’ll put an eye out. No thanks. I shrug her off, not even caring that I’m being a dick. She needs to back the hell off with those torture devices.

“So yeah.” I turn my attention back to my best friend and his wife. “I’ll be there a few weeks or so. He’s been diagnosed with emphysema and has a pretty bad case of pneumonia from what Dad says.”

“Why doesn’t your dad go?” Doug asks.

“They have a good relationship now, but I still think, even after all these years, there are hard feelings when it comes to their respective businesses. Not to mention, Dad doesn’t really want to leave the brewery. Makes more sense for me go. I used to spend every summer with him. I’m sure, just from hanging around the distillery, that I know it better than my old man.”

“Whiskey, huh?” Doug asks.

“Yeah, the concept is the same. The formulas are different.”

“I’m sorry to hear about your grandpa,” Dawn tells me.

“Thanks. He’s a tough ole bird. I’m sure he’s going to be right back to his old self in no time.” I say the words and hope they’re true. Gramps has always been bigger than life; I’m not so sure I’m prepared to see him sick and frail.

“So we should celebrate tonight,” Tessa says, again with the fake huskiness to her voice. How is she even doing that?

“Celebrate my Gramps being sick?” I ask, giving her a hard stare.

“N-no, I mean since you’re leaving.”

“Not happening,” I tell her. Looking back at Doug and Dawn, I say, “I’m starving. Have you two eaten?”

“Yeah, I cooked dinner.” Dawn looks up at Doug, and he leans down and kisses her.

“Not yet. We should get out of here,” Tessa tries again.

“Look.” I turn to face her. “It’s not happening. Drop it,” I say, keeping my voice hard. She opens her mouth as if she’s going to speak, and I hold my hand up to stop her. “No.”

“Tess, why don’t we let the guys talk and go see what the others are getting into?” Dawn offers. Doug leans in to kiss her with a whispered “Thank you,” and then they’re gone.

“You all right, man?” Doug asks.

“Fine,” I say through gritted teeth.

“I can tell,” he says with a laugh.

“I’m over the dumb shit, D. You don’t know how good you have it with Dawn.”

“What’s this? Rhett Baxter’s ready to settle down?” he mocks me.

“Fuck off,” I say, not able to hide my smile. “I’m not opposed to it, but fucking hell, man. Not going to happen with chicks like her.”

“Truth.” He holds his beer up, and I do the same as we clink them together. “Here.” He slides me a menu then signals for the waitress. “Order some food. Maybe it will help this piss ass mood you’re in.”

I don’t need the damn menu. We’ve been coming here for years. The waitress appears, and I order enough for an army. The rest of the night goes smooth. Dawn comes back over once Tessa and the other girls head out. Apparently, she realized tonight just wasn’t her night. Hopefully she understands it’s never going to be her night, not with me. Once last call is announced, it’s time to head home. I say goodbye to Doug and Dawn, and as I watch them walk away, I tramp down the envy I have for my best friend as I head home alone.

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