Chapter 10
Jansen
I ’m driving into town when I get the call from my mom.
“Hey, Mom. How are you?”
“I’m great. How are you? How is that winery?”
“Things are moving along.”
“I’m sure you’re learning that there’s a lot more to it than you expected.”
I purse my lips. “Yeah, there’s a lot to learn.”
“Are you certain you’re not in over your head?” Her tone takes on a fretful edge. “You spent a lot of money on that place.”
“It’s my money, Mom.”
“I know, but you could invest your money in the stock market and make more money over the long term than by owning a winery. It’s not a good investment.”
“Buying stocks and bonds is boring. I want to do this. I want to make something.” That sounds dumb. I know if I tell my mom more about that she’ll be mortified. Hopes and dreams, fear and excitement are not things you talk about.
“Well, it’s good that you’re doing something again.”
I wince. That’s her way of telling me I was an unemployed bum who laid around all day drinking beer and doing nothing after I retired.
Okay, there’s some truth to that. But I didn’t get a lot of empathy from her about what I was going through. One day I told her that I thought I might be depressed, and she shut that down immediately. My dad was even worse. You don’t talk about shit like that. You just suck it up and get on with things.
“Well, you know, I just sit around and drink wine all day. It’s pretty great.”
Silence.
Christ, I’m grouchy today.
I wanted to kiss Bianca last night.
I almost fucking did it, too. Jesus. What was I thinking?
“I think you’re being sarcastic,” Mom says, bringing me back to the present. “You sound out of sorts. Ever since you retired, you’ve been a big grouch.”
She’s not wrong.
“Sorry,” I mutter.
“You made your decision, you have to live with it.”
Yeah, yeah. Control your emotions. Don’t let them get to you. Toughen up . “I’m doing fine, Mom.”
“Are you making friends there? Dating anyone?”
“No. I mean, yeah, I’ve met a few people. I’m not interested in dating anyone. It’s a small town, it’s different here.”
“I’m sure it is.”
“Hey, I’m just on an errand. Can we talk later?” I pull up in front of the shoe store on Laurel Street.
After a brief silence, she says, “Of course.
“I’m fine. And things are going well here.” More or less.
I end the call. Well. Some day I’ll show them that this wasn’t an epic mistake.
I hope.
I head inside to find new footwear, but I should have gone farther than Oak Creek Canyon to do this errand. As I’m trying on boots, Miles and Nolan walk in.
“Hey, Becky,” Miles says with a big grin.
Becky. That’s the nickname my teammates called me when I played hockey. I narrow my eyes at him.
“Uh…not cool?” He holds up his hands.
Am I the asshole here? Probably. My mom’s right. “Becky’s fine, Razor.”
“Razor?”
I smile. “I worked with a guy named Raymond. We called him Razor.”
“Ha,” Nolan says. “That’s good.”
“Thank, Murrdawg.”
They both laugh.
“What are you up to?” Nolan’s gaze drops to my feet. “Boots. Yeah, you’ll need those in the vineyard.”
I stand to try out the new footwear. I take a few steps and assess the fit. They’re pretty damn comfortable, actually.
“These are good for a lot of walking,” the saleswoman says. “Especially outdoors.”
“That’s what I need.” I look down at them. They don’t look that much different than the athletic sneakers I wear when I’m working out. “I’ll take them.”
“Great!”
I sit and pull the boots off. The saleswoman takes them and places them back in the box.
“What are you two doing here?” I ask Miles and Nolan.
“I need new shoes for running,” Miles says. “But I’m easy. I just get the same thing every time.” He looks at the saleswoman. “I need a new pair of ASICS when you’re done with Mr. Beck, here.”
“Mr. Beck.” I roll my eyes.
He laughs. “Kidding.”
I slide my feet into my loafers and stand, pulling out my wallet.
“Those are nice shoes.” Nolan nods at my feet.
“Thanks.”
“They look expensive.”
I purse my lips. “Uh. I guess they kinda were. They’re Ferragamo.”
“Huh.” Nolan frowns. “Betty, you got any Ferragamo loafers?”
Betty snorts from behind the counter where she’s ringing up my purchase. “Yeah, they’re right behind the Christian Louboutin Oxfords.”
“I know some people here wear Louboutins.” Nolan shrugs. “I guess they go to San Francisco to buy them.”
“Louboutins would get messed up working in the vineyard,” Miles says.
I approach the counter and pull out my credit card to pay. Betty hands me a bag. “Here you go!”
“Thanks. I appreciate your help.” I turn. “Nice to see you guys again.’
“Hold up, don’t run off,” Miles says. “We’re going for a beer after this. Join us.”
“Uh.” I pause. Once again, I’m not used to this spontaneous sociability. I planned to buy my boots, go home, and jerk off thinking about Bianca in purple silk. I can’t exactly tell them that. And I don’t have any other excuse. I glance at the time. Nearly six. “Okay. Sure.”
Betty brings Miles his sneakers. He tries them on, although they’re exactly the same as the pair he’s wearing, pronounces them good, and buys them.
“You must run a lot,” I say as we walk out of the store.
“Yeah. I try for three or four times a week. About five miles.”
“Shit. I need to start doing that again.” I haven’t been doing a lot of activity since I retired. I’d probably feel better if I started running again.
“Run with me,” he says immediately. “I go at different times, depending on my shift, but I like doing it first thing in the morning if I can.”
I used to like running in the morning, too. Only I ran by the ocean in Long Beach.
“I’m not that fast,” he says. “You can probably outrun me, but that’s okay.”
“Yeah, I doubt that.”
“Okay, tomorrow morning. Meet me at Oak Creek Park at seven. Bring water and wear sunscreen. A hat, too. There’s no shade there. That’s why I go early.”
Great. No shade. Hot. Definitely not the Pacific Ocean.
We’re walking down the sidewalk along Laurel Street. We pass the store with the purple silk slip in it. I glance at the window, but the display has changed to a pale pink lace garment with a silk and feathered robe. I swallow. “We’re going out for beers and you plan to run at seven in the morning?”
He laughs. “Beer. One beer. Maybe.”
“Miles can run a marathon the day after a bender.” Nolan claps a hand on his buddy’s shoulder. “He’s famous for that.”
I have to smile. “Okay, then.”
“Great! It’ll be good, not too hot at that time of day.”
Oh. He thought I was agreeing. Ah, fuck.
We enter the Golden Cougar. This is the second time I’ve been here. It’s dim and old and smells like beer.
Turns out the guys want food, too. They order burgers, I go for fish tacos. And a beer.
“So are you getting ready for harvest?” Nolan asks.
“Yeah. Yesterday Bianca came over and looked at the grapes. My viticulturist guy…” That still feels weird, saying that… “thinks we’re nearly there, but he wanted another opinion.”
“Bianca should know. She’s been harvesting grapes since she was old enough to walk.”
“Yeah. She knows a lot.” I take a pull of my amber ale. I don’t tell them that I want to hire her temporarily. That’s between us. Until she makes a decision.
I was hoping I’d hear from her today, but I didn’t. I won’t take that as a no, though. She probably has her own things to worry about. Like finding people to help her harvest her own grapes.
Maybe I could help with that? We’ve got people and machinery lined up. Depending on the timing, maybe they could help her, too?
I’m probably being na?ve. I don’t know how this works.
There’s no problem keeping a conversation going with Nolan, or Murrdawg here, who seems to never stop talking. We talk about harvest, running, and wedding plans for Miles and Millie.
“When’s the wedding?” I ask.
“October. After harvest. Not that we’re busy, but lots of our friends are, so it made sense to plan the wedding for after.”
“Yeah.”
“We’re just about ready to send out invitations,” Miles says. “I think they look really cool. They have sort of watercolor flowers on the top and the bottom—dark pink and light pink—which are the wedding colors. It was really hard picking out fonts. You need a couple of different fonts that complement each other?—”
Nolan holds up a hand. “Enough. I can’t handle all the wedding shit.”
I press my lips together on a smile.
“He goes on about this stuff for hours,” Nolan tells me.
I don’t want to offend either of them so I just smile. I don’t think I’ve ever met a guy who’s so into wedding stuff.
“Fine,” Miles grumbles. “Your invitation might get lost in the mail.”
Nolan laughs. “I’m your fucking best man.”
“Maybe.” Then he laughs, too. “Sorry. I get carried away. Anyway, I was reading this article online you might be interested in Murrdawg . Sex positions for guys with a small penis.”
Nolan and I both choke.
“What the fuck,” Nolan says.
“Yeah, it said guys with a small penis can actually be better in bed because they make an effort.”
“Fuck right off,” Nolan says mildly and take a swallow of beer.
“Doggie style is apparently perfect. You can get really ‘deep’ penetration.”
“Ana does love doggie style,” Nolan says slowly.
“There you go.” Miles lifts his beer.
“Asshole,” Nolan says.
Their chirping almost makes me laugh. I miss this.
Our food arrives and we all dig in. The fish tacos are really good—grilled fish, fresh veggies, and a spicy sauce.
“I guess you’ve been through this,” Nolan says to me. I’ve told them I’m divorced.
“Yeah.” I make a face. “I wasn’t much into the wedding planning. My ex did it, and it was really nice. We got married at a hotel in Dana Point. On a terrace in front of the ocean. Gourmet food, lots of champagne.” I lift a shoulder. “It seemed fun at the time.”
“I hate weddings.” Nolan shoots Miles an apologetic glance. “Sorry, man. I’ll be there.”
“I know.” Miles turns to me. “How long have you been divorced?”
“Almost two years.”
“Not ready to tie the knot again?”
“I don’t think I’ll ever be.” I swallow a mouthful of beer. “I don’t need to get screwed over again. I had to pay her a shit ton of money.”
I didn’t really care about the money, but it’s easier to be bitter about that than crying about her cheating on me. Less pathetic. Especially since she cheated on me with one of my teammates. And they’re still together.
I didn’t mention any of this to Bianca the other night. She’s the last person I want to embarrass myself in front of.
“She took your money?” Nolan says. “Bitch.”
I sigh inwardly. I can’t let that go. “Nah, she’s not a bitch. At least I was retired. If I’d still been playing, I probably would have had to pay her even more.”
“Divorce laws.” Miles shakes his head.
I shrug. “I get it. I get why it has to be fair.”
They both regard me somberly.
“Eh, sorry. Didn’t mean to drag the mood down. Hope you have a pre-nup.” I manage a half-grin so they know I’m kidding and luckily they both laugh at my terrible joke. We need to move on from this ugly topic. “This food is good.”
“Yeah, the food here’s great. This place has been around forever.”
“Did you both grow up here?” I ask.
“Yeah, or close by.”
“I’m from San Francisco,” Nolan says. “Moved here because of Ana. How are you liking it here?”
“I’m getting used to it,” I say noncommittally. “I kind of miss the ocean and the beach, and there’s definitely a small-town vibe here, but it’s okay.”
“You seem like a big city guy.”
I nod. “Yeah. I grew up in Toronto. I played in Chicago for a couple of seasons, but the rest of my career was in Los Angeles.”
“Well, it’s not far to San Francisco. Or the beach,” Nolan points out. “If you need a fix of night life or whatever.”
“Women,” Miles says. “He needs women.”
“There are women here,” Nolan says.
“Like who?” Miles raises his eyebrows in a challenge.
“Like, lots of women.” He pauses. “Like Bianca.”
“She’s not staying,” Miles says. “Millie says she’s just here to help with harvest.”
“Huh. Okay, then…” He squints. “Hell, I know there are single women here. Just can’t think of any off the top of my head.”
“It doesn’t matter,” I say. “Because I am definitely not looking for a woman.”
Except I keep thinking about a woman. One specific woman.
And then I look up and there she is.
Bianca walks into the bar followed by a man—that jackhole she gave her number to at the fair. The old boyfriend.
I guess I shouldn’t be surprised she’s out with him. But I have to be honest—it bugs me.
She hasn’t noticed me as they take a seat at a small table in the back corner. She smiles at him. Dammit. That smile. I’m an asshole. I want that smile for me.
What am I thinking? She’s ten years younger than me. She’s with a guy her age, young, someone she has a history with, someone from around here who knows her world. I’m an outsider, too old for her, and anyway I just finished telling these guys I’m not interested in a relationship, so clearly I’m just being a dick by being annoyed with her seeing that guy.
I’ll just ignore them.