I sighed and shook my head, smiling. “Fine. But just a sip. It’s technically what I wanted to talk to you about anyway.”
She gave me a quizzical look while I raised the glass to have a taste. The dark golden liquid looked and smelled fine enough, nothing out of the ordinary for a sazerac from memory. But as soon as it touched my tongue, I was overwhelmed with a strong combination of bitterness and heat, and my face conveyed my displeasure immediately. I struggled to swallow what I’d tasted while putting the offensive drink back on the bar.
Tiff hummed in thought and pulled the drink back towards her, eyeing it. “Yeah, that’s what I thought. I shouldn’t have added the chili oil.”
I struggled to rid of the taste from my mouth, and she passed me a glass of water, which I drained in seconds. “You knew it was bad, and yet you still made me try it?”
“What?! I needed a second opinion!”
“Jesus, Tiff, warn me next time.”
Her laugh floated through the empty room. “And where would be the fun in that?” She leaned back against the counter, facing me. “So, what did you want to talk to me about?”
“I want to hire you for the launch. All of the caterers I’ve talked to can supply us with wait and bar staff, but none of them are capable of crafting a cocktail list.”
”Not unless you want the standard martini, cosmo, old fashioned BS.”
“Exactly. And the whole point of this event is to make the rum the hero and have the cocktails showcase how special it is. Not just—”
“Throw it into some tired old recipes.”
“Yes. Thank you. I knew you’d get it.”
“Sure.”
“Really?”
“Audrey, come on. Of course! I love you, first of all, and secondly, I actually have a few new recipes I’ve been trying out.” She threw the remainder of the offensive sazerac the drain nearest to her, “I promise this one won’t be on the list.”
“Well, thank God for that. And thank you. I’m just hoping we can afford you.”
“You can’t, but I’ll make an exception for my best friend. So it’s a drinks and nibbles thing, yeah?” I nodded. “Well, just off the top of my head, I’m thinking an aperitif to start, light and fresh, maybe with one of their other spirits to showcase the rest of their range. Then a series of four cocktails, each tailored to a specific flavor profile, and lastly, a rich little digestif, maybe a shot of some kind, but we won’t call it a shot. I can make up some wanky name for it, and we can serve it in those tiny ceramic tea cups the Japanese use for matcha ceremonies, match in with the terracotta theme.” Somewhere in there, she’d gotten her phone out and started furiously making notes, nodding to herself while I sat, staring at her in awe.
I shouldn’t have been surprised. Tiff was a genius when it came to alcohol. There was a reason she’d won the city’s Best Bartender award the last three years in a row.
“Have I told you I love you lately?”
She looked up from her phone to wink at me. “Never hurts to hear it again.” Setting her phone down, she asked, “So what’s going on with pretty boy? Things still going well?”
“I met his sister the other day.”
She hesitated briefly, but her expression didn’t offer any clues as to what she thought of that. “And how did that go?”
“Well! I really like her. You would, too, I think. She’s got a catty sense of humor.”
“That’s good. Big step, meeting the family.”
And this was the point I was stuck on. In theory, I would have thought the same thing. Being introduced to friends and family seemed like a natural next step—if we were dating. Which we weren’t. Or maybe we were. I knew what I wanted, but I still had no idea how Jackson felt.
“Do you think it means something? That I met her? We haven’t really talked about it.”
“Do you want it to mean something?”
Yes. “Maybe?”
It was more than I’d been able to admit out loud, clinging desperately to the lie that if I kept my feelings to myself, it would make them easier to forget. But this was Tiff. She was the one who held me together when Brad left. Who has had my back since we met. Who knew me better than anyone.
She was the last person I wanted to hide from. “I think I’m falling for him.”
