16. Chapter 16 - Callum
My article was approved quickly and released on the magazine’s website that Thursday, just a few days after I’d submitted it.
My editor assured me it was slated to go live in the next print edition of Connection Monthly as well, but he wanted to get it out as soon as possible, which was why the website got first dibs.
Saturday morning, I awoke to a flood of notifications on my phone, from family, friends, and coworkers.
They all said some variation of the same thing, congratulating me on my article about Celestial Cask.
Confused, I closed my text messages and pulled up the Connection Monthly website.
It was posted, that much was clear, but there was something unusual about the article.
At the top of the page, there was an icon for a national news distributor, indicating the article had been picked up by that distributor and posted widely.
I rubbed the sleep from my eyes, trying to make sense of it, but before I could form a coherent thought, my phone rang. The number that lit up the screen was my boss’s.
“Hey, Gil,” I said amiably, scrambling to sit and trying to sound like I hadn’t just woken up.
“Sorry to call so early,” he said in greeting. His tone was hurried, clipped, as it usually was. “It’s late morning here on the East Coast. I waited as long as I could.”
“Not a problem. What’s going on?”
Gil cleared his throat. “Have you seen the article?”
“Yeah. It’s posted on the website. I just checked it this morning.”
“So you saw?”
I stifled a yawn and tried to figure out what he meant. “The distribution icon? That’s got to be an error, right?”
“Not at all. Callum, your article was picked up nationally. It’s everywhere. Viral.”
My stomach flipped. It couldn’t be true. “But…”
“I know it’s hard to wrap your mind around it, but it hit the feeds late yesterday afternoon. It all happened so quickly that I didn’t have a chance to call and warn you. A couple of morning talk shows have expressed interest in the subject matter, too. Expect a few calls.”
“You’re… serious?” I couldn’t believe it. My mind was racing with the implications.
“I’m serious.” We were both silent for a long moment before Gil cleared his throat.
“I’m going to let you go. I just wanted to give you that info.
” He paused another second. “I’m working on getting your next assignment together.
This… development changes things a little.
I’ll keep you updated as we make a decision. ”
”Thanks, Gil.” With that, we hung up. I sank back into the bed and let the gravity of the situation roll over me.
Viral. I’d never had a piece go viral. I’d definitely never had anything get picked up by the national news distribution services.
What did it all mean? For me, my career, for the meadery?
Paxton. His name hit me like a wash of cold water. Had he heard about the article’s popularity yet? How would it impact the business? God, I needed to talk to him.
I hauled myself out of bed and hurried to put real clothes on, tugging on a pair of jeans and a green V-neck T-shirt. My ankle was mostly better, to my relief, so I slipped on a pair of flip-flops and headed out quickly, praying my mom wouldn’t catch me sneaking out without saying anything.
When I got to the meadery, the parking lot was packed and there was a line at the door.
It wasn’t even noon and the meadery wasn’t open yet.
The line made it look like a celebrity was going to be appearing or something.
I kept driving past the main building and parked in front of Paxton’s little house.
When I knocked, the door opened almost immediately, as if he’d been waiting for me. “Hey,” he murmured as I stepped inside and closed the door behind me.
“Wow,” I said. “It’s bananas out there.”
He nodded, eyes wide. “It’s wild. We don’t open for another hour. I had to call Tommy and Matty to come in early and I’m still not sure we’re going to be able to handle the crowd, just the three of us. Where did they all come from?”
“That I can help with. My article went viral, apparently. My boss called me this morning. It’s been circulating nationally.”
“Holy shit.”
“That’s pretty much what I said.”
His chest rose and fell as he took a deep breath and a moment later he took a step forward, closing the space between us.
A beat passed and then he was kissing me, one hand on the back of my neck, his other hand on my hip.
The kiss started slow and sweet and deepened quickly until we were both letting out soft little moans into each other’s mouths.
He pulled away slowly, reluctantly, and rested his forehead against mine. “I guess I should get over to the taproom, huh?”
I let out a quiet whine of disappointment before giving him a little smile.
“I guess so.” He was right, of course. We couldn’t exactly spend the rest of the day fooling around in his living room.
Not when there was a line halfway around the building waiting to get in and mead to serve.
That didn’t stop me from wanting it, though.
A few minutes later we made the short walk down Pax’s driveway to the meadery and entered through the back door to the brew room.
Immediately, he got to work, bustling around and taking care of things that were definitely beyond my rudimentary understanding of how mead was made.
I watched, feeling out of place, knowing any help I might give would probably be more in the way than anything.
Soon, Tommy and Matty had come in, too. Matty went out to the taproom to make sure everything was prepped for opening, while Tommy lingered in the brew room, helping Paxton and chatting quietly.
Before I knew it, it was time to open the taproom.
Tommy headed up front to make sure Matty had finished his prep work, while Paxton stayed behind, stealing a moment alone together.
Paxton took a deep breath and looked at me, putting his hands on my shoulders. “We can do this, right?”
I laughed once and suppressed a snort. “We nothing. You. You can do this.”
He released me and rubbed the back of his neck. “I wouldn’t be in this situation if it weren’t for you.”
“Thank me later,” I said quietly. “When you’re sure this was a good thing.”
“It will be. Right? The added attention might get fresh eyes on our grant applications. Assuming I don’t crash and burn today, that is.”
I reached out and squeezed his hand. “You won’t.”
Before we could say anything else, Tommy’s voice boomed down the hall. “Opening the front doors now,” he called.
Paxton nodded once and made his way into the taproom as patrons began to stream inside, and I took a spot behind the bar next to Paxton, hoping to do what I could to help by pouring and serving drinks.
The tables and bar quickly filled up, leaving a line outside as people waited for their turn to get a taste of Paxton’s unique, experimental flavors.
I stayed out of the way as he worked, watching him with awe as he moved with confidence from group to group, explaining the menu, making recommendations, and charming everyone.
While I was in my own world, doing my best to keep up with Paxton’s directions to run things here and there, someone came up to the bar and tapped me on the shoulder.
I spun to see who was trying to get my attention and spotted a guy who was probably a decade younger than me, mid-twenties, slim, with curly brown hair and bright green eyes.
“Hey,” he said. “Just wanted to come over and introduce myself. I’m Jack. I run the hardware store in town.”
I nodded and shook his hand, not sure where this was going. “Nice to meet you, Jack. I’m Callum.”
“I just wanted to say how much I appreciated your article. People are all over town. It’s already looking like it’s going to bring a lot of business to Foggy Basin.”
I opened my mouth to respond but as I did, I overheard a conversation next to us.
A pair of women were chatting. What caught my attention was one of the women reciting her favorite lines from the article.
My stomach did a somersault as I realized she was quoting me.
I blinked and turned my attention back to Jack.
“Sorry about that. I’m… glad to help. A rising tide lifts all ships, right? ”
Jack grinned and put a hand on my shoulder. “Exactly.” A few moments later we said our goodbyes and he left me, making his way to a table where a blond guy sat, sipping a glass of mead.
As I worked, I allowed myself to take it all in, letting the sounds of laughter and clinking glassware wash over me, the sunlight streaming in through the huge taproom windows, the rich scent of different meads floating through the air.
My heart squeezed as I looked around and spotted Paxton in his element and for some reason, I tried to imagine what it would be like once I left.
My chest felt hollow, a deep ache inside my body.
“Wow.” It came from a guy one table away from me. I tried not to be too obvious about eavesdropping as he talked. “This tastes exactly like the article described it. It’s so good. Here, you try.” He passed his glass to the guy sitting next to him.
At first, I felt pride in my work. Then, for a brief moment, panic threatened to seize me. What if this is all too much? What if it’s too much pressure? Or too much attention? What if Paxton regrets letting me write that article in the first place?
I shook my head and tried hard to ignore the thoughts, focusing instead on Paxton, glowing as he circulated the room once again.