Melissa is getting ready for a management meeting at the restaurant. The Lonesome Grill is closed today for the official handover. Ricky is recovering, but he’s not returning to the kitchen. He had a full navy pension when he started working for us; he’s looking forward to retirement. Lucy has agreed to come back part-time. Mel has promised to be gentle and not bring in changes too quickly in order to give Lucy and the rest of the staff time to adjust.
Mel’s phone vibrates as she’s putting her coffee mug into the dishwasher.
We both check the screen. It’s him.
She accepts the call and suddenly we are both video chatting with Melbourne. “Hi, Marcus!” She waves. “You’ve got me and Duck here.”
The man on the screen smiles and waves back. He’s wearing a watch that probably costs more than my fully tricked-out bike. “Expecting my call?”
“Is my pasta delicious?”
“Indeed. I have an update for you. Bob Overbridge confirmed that you did not sign the contract he showed me, so don’t worry about that. My lawyers are handling it. I do, however, want to make a new offer for you to come back to Martinique.”
“I’ll bet the salary is more than generous and the benefits are incredible,” she says.
“They are. But you aren’t interested, are you?”
“I’m sorry, Marcus. Under any other circumstance, I’d be thrilled to work for you, but I’ve signed a new contract with no expiration date.”
He sighs, but his smile doesn’t waver. “I won’t waste either of our times by making a counteroffer. Just know you have a standing offer at any of my restaurants. And Wade, if you are ever looking for a change, we can find a management position for you too. I’m going to hold you to your promise of penne whenever I’m in Lonesome. I’ll find a reason to be there soon.”
“Thank you. Your pasta will be waiting. Have a good week, Marcus,” Melissa says.
He ends the chat. I didn’t expect the offer for me, but I’m not surprised. The man knows what it takes to make a deal. It also tells me that Mason and I need to let Mel loose in the kitchen. Melbourne might have money to throw around, but the fact that he is willing to spring for two salaries says we need to take full advantage of my wife’s skills.
A knock delays Mel’s departure again. I open the door and see Josh and Joanie on the front step. “We’re here! And we brought gifts! The party may now begin.”
Then she pulls a bottle from a bag and presents me with the devil itself.
“What the fuck, Klein?” I yell at Josh.
The fucker doubles over because he’s laughing so hard. “Swear to God that I didn’t say a word to her.”
Melissa raises her hands. “Me either. Joanie?”
“I never forgot, Duck. It just wasn’t the right time. The most strategic time. The funniest time. This is. This is the engagement party of my husband’s best friend and my best friend. The one who gave you your nickname. How better to celebrate this perfect occasion than with the drink that started it all.” She lifts the gift bag she’s holding in her other hand. “I even brought glasses, in case you said you didn’t have any. Let’s toast to your long and happy marriage.”
Melissa takes the bottle from me before I can toss it out the door. “Where did you find this?”
“It’s imported. A special order.”
“It would fucking have to be. I didn’t know they still made it.” The wine bottle is magnum sized, twice as big as a regular bottle. The label is unobtrusive, proclaiming it to be a sparkling wine, which it technically is. The only clue to my revulsion is the tiny yellow bird below the name: Baby Duck.
Twenty years ago, Melissa and Joanie had pulled out this same wine bottle at an afternoon, pre-rehearsal barbecue. It had all the hallmarks of a wine for the barely or not quite legal: sweet, alcoholic, and cheap. Being young, dumb, and full of cum, I’d mocked their liquor choice. Melissa challenged me to a drinking contest. I slammed two shots of tequila before announcing to everybody present that I could outdrink her any day of the week.
Then my fucking wife took me up on my bone-headed, dick-swinging boast. But first, she did two shots of tequila. “To keep things even,” she’d said. She grabbed two red cups and filled them to the top with the sparkling pink Baby Duck. “Cheers!” Mel immediately chugged the whole thing.
I took my first swig. And choked on it. I expected sweet and bubbly. I did not expect warm. Or grape-jelly flavored. Melissa crossed her arms and stared at me, smirking. I started chugging. I made it halfway through the glass before the Baby Duck met the tequila and my stomach said, “Fuck this!”. My nickname followed.
I hadn’t drunk a carbonated wine since then. Not even champagne on special occasions. My body still remembered. Apparently, so did all the witnesses.
I stare at my wife. “I swear, I had zero idea of what she was doing,” Mel says.
Joanie tears the tinfoil from the top of the bottle and carefully starts untwisting the wire cage holding the cork. “Duck, be a doll and set out the glasses. I’ve waited years to give this toast. None of you fuckers better interrupt me, do you understand?”
I stand straight. So does Josh. We’re no longer serving, but old habits die hard when we hear Joanie’s order giving voice.
She hands each of us a drink. I hear the pops and fizzes as we lift our glasses. “To two of my favorite people, a pairing twenty years in the making. Here’s to happy accidents and Duck and Melissa’s engagement party, a couple weeks late.”
Mel takes my chin in her hand and kisses me squarely on the mouth. “Best accident ever.” Then she clinks her glass to mine. I’m going to have to drink to her toast now, no matter what she says next. “This will be our very special wedding drink to have every year on our anniversary. I love you, Duck.”
All I can do is laugh. “I love you too, Trouble.”
THE END
