ReWined Vol I ~ Kim Karr Read online

  Stopping at the thirty-five-foot stainless steel rabbit ridiculously known as Bunny Foo Foo, I contemplated if I should go in the restaurant beside it but then figured—why the fuck not.

  I’d never been, after all.

  Striding in and looking around, the place was definitely not what I thought it would be.

  It was old, I got it, but it also looked it.

  The edgy art was from the nineties and the jazz music playing threatened to put me to sleep. Still, I made my way toward the infamous ‘glass house’ tasting room to check it out.

  At the bar, I scanned the wine menu. They were offering Gable and Fairchild and even Cupcake and Naked, which were both a brilliant marketing move by the way, but there wasn’t a single drop of California Jane to be found.

  Fucking Wilhelmina.

  Our product should’ve been on the menu.

  It wasn’t.

  The reality was the woman at the top wanted everything to run smoothly, but there wasn’t a big enough staff to assure it would. Marketing. Fuck, it was all about the marketing. And obviously that was where we lacked.

  It was quiet in here.

  Too quiet.

  And not my scene.

  I couldn’t stay, not even to check out the competition. And especially not in this city.

  I had to get the fuck out.

  Back outside, I leaned against the building. Cracking my neck, I thought long and hard about what was to come in my life. Being in charge was a huge responsibility. But I knew I was ready for it. Fuck, I’d been ready for it since I was sixteen and my grandfather died.

  That man believed in me. The only person who ever did. I wasn’t about to let him down.

  A guy dressed in a suit came hauling ass around the corner. He was on his phone. “I’m twenty minutes late and you left?”

  He came to a dead stop. “Fine, whatever,” he said and then sagged against the building beside me.

  “Bad night?” I asked.

  He pulled a pack of smokes from his inside breast pocket. “You have no fucking idea,” he muttered.

  “Yeah, I think I do.”

  He offered me a cigarette. “Chick problems, too?”

  Although, I’d quit smoking years ago, I punched at the pack and nabbed the one that slid out. “Something like that. Long story short, I’m stranded here because of a woman. Mind if I borrow your phone?”

  “Stranded trumps being stood up anytime.” He handed me his lighter first, but I declined, tucking the rod behind my ear before taking the offered cell.

  With his phone in my palm, I took a deep breath. Before making the call I knew I’d never live down, I had to Google the number. The home number. Calling home numbers was never good. You never knew who was going to answer. And yet here I was calling one now.

  Two rings was all it took. “Hello.”

  I cleared my throat, hoping I would sound different and be able to bypass what I knew I couldn’t. “Is Grayson there?”

  “He sure is,” she mused, “Is this Tyler?”

  I looked across the street and felt a thundering in my veins when I read the sign of the establishment. “Yeah, hi Tabitha.”

  Here it goes. Why the hell couldn’t I have memorized Gray’s cell number for fuck’s sake? Not that Tabitha wasn’t cool, because she was, but I had things to do that didn’t include idle chit-chat.

  “Why didn’t you say hi?”

  “I am now.”

  “How are you? I can’t wait to see you tomorrow.”

  Grayson and Tabitha got married last year when Tabitha got knocked up. They’d had an on again off again relationship for years but the baby changed all that. Used to be Gray came down to the city to party and now he and his wife come down to party. Not exactly the same, but Tabitha doesn’t seem to realize that.

  A couple came out of the restaurant and stared up at the sculpture. I tore my gaze from the sign across the street. “Yeah, about that, I’m in town and going to have to cancel.”

  “Really? Why?”

  “Something came up. Do you think I could talk to Gray?”

  “Dude,” the guy whose phone I borrowed commented. “You said a quick call, not a get-reacquainted conversation.”

  “Three more minutes, max,” I told him. He nodded and stubbed out his butt at the same time.

  This wasn’t my life.

  Fucking Wilhelmina.

  That sugary sweet voice slinked through the connection. “Then we’ll celebrate here.”

  “Um, maybe another time.”

  “No way. You’re not going to cancel on us. I won’t allow it. Just because you hate to celebrate your birthday doesn’t mean we do.”

  Seriously, I just wanted her off the phone.

  The couple that was lurking around the iconic bunny asked the dude whose phone I was using to take their picture. I almost snickered out loud. He didn’t look happy. I wouldn’t be either.

  Tabitha kept talking. “Oh, how silly of me, happy birthday, Tyler. What do you have going on tonight that your plans changed?”

  “Hey, Tabitha,” I said, “Can we talk later? I’m in a bit of a jam and I really need to talk to Gray.”

  “Sure, no problem, hold on, he’s just finishing changing Emerson’s diaper,” she said before calling out, “Gray, Tyler is on the phone for you.”

  “Coming babe, the baby needs your tits,” he hollered and I cringed. It seemed like a lifetime ago when he was the one who wanted to suck on them.

  A few seconds later I could hear the little vixen screaming as he came onto the line. That baby never stopped crying. “Dude, going old school on the landline. What’s up?” His voice was light despite his kid’s whaling.

  I scratched my head. “Hey, man. I’ve got a bit of a situation and really need your help.” I tried to play it down to avoid the razing I was undoubtedly going to be getting from him and the guys, but it was hard to do.

  His laughter roared through the line after I told him how I’d ended up at Hall Wines. “Seriously, man, I can’t even—” He couldn’t talk, he was laughing so hard.

  “Grayson,” I fumed, “are you coming or what?”

  Finally, he spoke. “Yeah man, I’ll be there in thirty.”

  I glanced up.

  I couldn’t go back in there.

  I just couldn’t.

  “Meet me at the Highway instead,” I told him low under my breath, the hesitation noticeable.

  “You sure about that?”

  “Yeah, I’m sure,” I muttered.

  “You do know who owns it? Right?”

  This wasn’t high school. He wasn’t always in the know before everyone else, anymore. “Yes, Gray, I know.”

  “Yet, you’re still going in?”

  “That’s what I said.”

  “But you just told me how you had to get away from her.”

  “And? Your point?”

  “Guess, I don’t have one,” he snickered. “Other than you just proved to me there really is a fine line between love and hate.”

  “That’s such bullshit,” I said and ended the call.

  I handed the dude back his phone. “Thanks, man,” I told him.

  “Anytime,” he grinned, a chuckle bleeding through his response despite his own woes.

  Yeah, I had no doubt that listening to my story had just put his girlfriend problems in real perspective.

  I grabbed the cigarette from behind my ear and stared at it.

  Fuck, I wish I still smoked.

  Tyler

  THE CLUB WAS hopping. I knew it would be. To party wasn’t why I’d come, though.

  No, I had come because I was curious. Wanted to see what all the talk was about that I tried to ignore. Wondered what had earned her the party girl title.

  Was it this place or was it the rich douche from L.A. that had brought her into the spotlight?

  I’d make it quick, though.

  Get upstairs to the tasting room, check it out, and get back down to the club before Gray arrived.
/>   The shit I’d get for coming up here and going upstairs would be worse than the shit I was about to receive about getting kicked out of the car.

  The elevator opened to a dimly lit second floor. The Champagne Room at the Highway definitely reflected her.

  Her.

  Her.

  Fucking her.

  Everywhere.

  I practically spat the word because I could see her style stamped on everything.

  Long legs and perfect tits over there. Not really.

  Her.

  Red hair and full lips right here. Not really.

  Her.

  Still, she was here. I could see her. Paris Fairchild owned this place and she’d built it on her own. She might have liked to party, but she wasn’t a fuck up. Not from what I could see.

  There were plush pewter-colored velvet seats, dramatic crystal chandeliers, and gold mirror installations hanging over the top of the bar.

  Not bad.

  The complimentary caviar cart circling the room, doling out pre-dressed blini was a nice touch, and quite the contrast to the techno dance music being piped in from downstairs.

  So Paris.

  Never cookie-cutter or expected.

  The place wasn’t only named after her father’s winery. I knew Paris, and I knew it was a play on his brand. A mock almost, a satire of sorts. Yet, looking around it seemed anything but.

  It was the older version of the seventeen-year-old.

  It was the Converse to the high heels and the short skirt to the long gown. It was everything everybody else wasn’t.

  Fuck me.

  By the time I leaned forward at the bar, I already knew what I was going to order. This place was one of the few Northern California establishments where Dom Pérignon P2 was poured by the glass.

  Yeah, so I’d done a little research in the car and why not order it, it was my birthday, after all.

  One glass and then I’d head downstairs. It was either that or Fairchild wine, and I didn’t want to choke on the latter. The place only offered Dom or Fairchild wines. Big price difference. Big money maker.

  Smart move on her part but I wondered why Highway 128 had never ventured into sparkling wines. Seems her old man would have picked that up by now. Then again, we hadn’t either.

  A tall guy dressed in a black vest ambled my way and asked what I wanted.

  Once I had the crystal glass in my hand, I stared into the clear, bubbly liquid for a long while before I took a sip.

  I hated this city.

  Hated Calistoga, too.

  Then again, it wasn’t like I loved San Francisco. In fact, I never thought of it other than as a temporary place.

  A place to wait before I returned.

  Maybe, in this case it was true—there was a fine line between love and hate.

  Tyler

  I LOOKED AROUND the club. Upstairs was quiet and demure. Down here was loud and outspoken.

  It was her all over again.

  I took the bottle of beer from the cute bartender. “Thanks.”

  “No problem. Any time.” She smiled and gave me a nod, being sure to keep eye contact.

  Pushing the twenty her way, I read the gleam of interest in her eyes. “Keep the change.”

  Her smile widened. “Let me know when you need another. I’ll be here all night.”

  With a nod of my own, I shoved the lime into the neck of the bottle and took a swig, relishing the tang of the cool liquid on the back of my throat.

  It had been a long fucking night.

  The place was packed and the thump of the music reverberated against the walls. Turning around, I leaned back against the bar and scanned the row of low benches that separated the bar area from the dance floor.

  I wasn’t looking for her.

  I wasn’t.

  Finishing the beer in four gulps, I twisted and lifted my empty bottle. The blonde bartender caught my piercing gaze and came rushing over. “The same?” she asked.

  Before I could answer, a hand slapped my shoulder. “Make that two shots of your best tequila, cutie.”

  “Sure thing.” She winked and quickly grabbed two shot glasses from beneath the bar.

  A smile pierced my lips and I turned to see Grayson. Same man bun. Same laughing eyes. Same ego. The difference—now he’d earned the right. He was a very successful financial wizard and an all-around stand-up guy.

  Whereas I’d gone off to law school, Grayson had gotten his M.B.A. and formed his own investment group.

  Unlike me, he didn’t go to work for his family, though, and he was richer than fuck without their money, so were the other guys, actually.

  Christian had gone to college and was headed down the campaign trail. He worked for the county in some supervisory position with aspirations of being Mayor, then Governor, and who the fuck knew what else.

  Julian went to medical school and now practiced in San Francisco. He and I were on the same party circuit there.

  Gray and I bumped shoulders and clapped backs. “Dude,” I remarked. “Good to see you. Thanks for coming to get me.”

  He shook his head. “It was me or Uber, right?” he joked, “I still can’t believe Wilhelmina kicked you out of the car. What I wouldn’t pay to see it.”

  In jest, I arched one eyebrow. “Is it too late for me to call for that Uber?”

  He reached for one of the shots and handed it to me. “Not a chance. You’re stuck with me for the night.”

  I took the offered glass. “What about your wife?”

  His smile was wicked. “Tabitha is going to take the baby and go to her parents.”

  “Hope I didn’t piss her off too much by interrupting your plans.”

  He grabbed the second shot. “No, not at all. Her sister’s in town and she was glad to have a reason to skip out on dinner with my father and spend time with her.”

  The music seemed to get louder or maybe I was feeling older. “That was pretty cool of her.”

  Clinking my glass, he smirked. “Being married isn’t half bad, birthday boy, maybe you should give it a try,” and on the last word, he winked a knowing wink. The joke was one I wouldn’t live down.

  “Never,” I winced and opened my mouth. Expensive tequila burned down my throat and pooled in my gut. It landed in a splash of flames that licked and jumped, igniting in my veins. Head to foot, a rush of irritation washed through me. Anger seeping all the way to my bones.

  Fucking Wilhelmina.

  Smiling wide, Grayson blew out a satisfied breath as he slammed the empty down on bar. “I called my old man on my way over here to cancel dinner and feel him out.”

  My fingers gripped the glass. “And?”

  Mr. Albert Dane, Jr. had remained the primary attorney for California Jane after the death of his father. He was also my mentor and a man I respected.

  “My father confirmed that Wilhelmina had contacted him and he wants you to go by his place Monday before the trust reading. There are a few things he wants to discuss.”

  Still uncertain about everything, I gave him a grateful nod, anyway.

  “Hey, cutie,” Gray called. “Another round.” The sound of his voice told me it was officially party time.

  Turned out, Grayson had taken an Uber and we’d be Ubering home. I was cool with that. After the second shot, he asked. “So, are we staying here or leaving?”

  The guy was smart. He knew why I was here. That I was waiting for her. The problem, I shouldn’t be. “Leaving,” I finally told him.

  He motioned for the bartender. “Hey, cutie.”

  She lifted her head.

  “We need the check.”

  “Already?” she sighed.

  He tossed his Platinum card on the bar. “Yeah, it’s this guy’s birthday,” he slapped my shoulder, “And I have to take him out and show him what a good time is.”

  She took the Amex. “Where are you two going? Maybe I can meet up with you later.”

  “To Moxies.”

  “In Calistoga?” she asked,
as if astonished.

  I rolled my eyes. Calistoga versus St. Helena was really getting old.

  He signed the receipt she’d given him and tucked his card back in his wallet. “That’s the place.”

  The chatter went on. Grayson was a flirt. Married or not, he never quit. The difference was it never went any further than harmless chatter. He was a dedicated husband in a way I had to admire. He loved his wife and she really was his Queen.

  The music changed, the dance floor clearing. My gaze wandered, curious as to why.

  Then I saw her.

  Her.

  Paris Fairchild.

  And she was smiling.

  She looked like she was happy.

  Having fun.

  And that’s when I remembered how we used to be. How we’d once been like that. Right then, all the hate I had bottled up seemed to vanish.

  She.

  Was.

  Beautiful.

  And with another man.

  I tried not to growl, but I couldn’t help it. Jealousy ate me up from the inside as I watched her.

  She was swaying her hips with the same guy she’d been photographed with. He was hugging her waist from behind and grinning into her neck like he was the luckiest guy in the world.

  At that moment, I thought he just might be.

  I should have known she’d be here with the rich guy she’d been sucking face with in the public eye. That Louis Vuitton wearing douche with a vineyard the size of Napa and a stick up his skinny ass.

  Unable to stop from scowling, I looked away. I even breathed through my nostrils so I wouldn’t lose my shit.

  What did she see in him, anyway?

  The guy wasn’t even involved in his family’s vineyard. In fact, I’d bet every dime I had that he’d never even gotten his hands dirty. His family’s business was run by a bunch of suits who produced millions for them.

  Whatever.

  That jealousy pumped faster through my veins.

  It was unwanted.

  Unable to resist looking, I allowed my gaze to drift back her way. That’s when I saw that she was looking right at me.

  Staring.

  Son of a bitch—she knew I was here.

  Tonight’s public display of affection was for me.

  Why?