Cruz
I left the tasting room when I couldn’t handle drowning in humiliation. I didn’t leave the distillery, otherwise I would’ve looked really pathetic. Durban was already giving me a weird look for showing up to put in a few extra hours while the crochet club happened to be meeting.
I’ve sniffed myself at least five times.
Ew, Foster. Ever heard of laundry detergent?
I shake off the playground teasing. I had heard of laundry detergent. Whether my mom could afford it was another story.
I do not smell, and I showered this morning after chores, like always. I only put on aftershave. Lane taught me how to use that and cologne without overwhelming a room like a teen in the throes of puberty.
I’ve been as nice as possible to my little baker. Every time I try to reassure her about anything, she pulls away so fast and hard my head spins. All I’ve done is upset her. I just want to get to know her, but I’m the last guy she wants sniffing around.
When she looks at me, she has that knowing gaze. Like she knows I came from the gutter and I’m just pretending to be a good ol’ country boy. She looks at me like that grungy kid invited to the birthday party because the rules said everyone had to be invited. All she needs is to give Clem a knowinghide your purseglance and I’ll be eleven again.
She can see me, and that’s why she wants nothing to do with me.
I’ve spent the last two hours unloading the production line deliveries from the morning, stocking boxes of bottles and labels on the shelving units. When the last box is put away, I rub the back of my neck and eye my work. I just have to haul out a couple of pallets and I’ll be done. Maybe I’ll mop the floor first. Then I can go home and throw myself a nice pity party.
“Campbell and I are heading out,” Durban says from behind me. “The rest of the club is gone or on their way out.”
“’Kay. I’ll lock up.”
“I left Elodie’s baked goods on the counter, but I took one of each to bring home.”
“To share with Campbell?”
“I’d be in trouble if I didn’t.”
I chuckle, and the little bit of humor tamps down the acid in my stomach. We both know that he wants to share whatever he has with his girl. I’d be the same. My stomach clenches. Fucked that up, didn’t I?
Expecting him to mosey on his way, I keep working. He doesn’t leave.
I’m not going anywhere until everyone’s gone. I swore a long time ago I’d never be humiliated about myself again, and I don’t need witnesses to my failure. “Is there something else?”
I’ve gotten to know Durban well over the last five years. He keeps things close to the chest, but he’s our distilling wizard. He gets the science behind the product and he likes to experiment.The flavor profiles Durban can extract are admirable, and he’s really carved a niche. I like tried and true. I want to stay in my lane and not get kicked out of it.
Indecision plays over his face. “It’s not my business, but this thing with you and Elodie?”
I scoff. “There is nothing. Trust me. She’s not interested.”
“Then why did you come today?”
I wouldn’t have bought my flimsy excuse of unpacking the shipments either. That’s what Tuesday mornings are for. “I thought that, you know, outside of the bakery, maybe it’d be different.” I lift a shoulder. “I have my answer. She made it clear.”
“Sorry.”
I force a laugh and wave him off. “You win some, you lose some.”
He doesn’t break a smile. “We’ll see you, then.”
“Have a good night.” I stuff my thumb over my shoulder, proud that I can act like my heart didn’t get stomped on. “I’ll see what we’re dumping tomorrow and get the bottling supplies ready.”
“Thanks, Cruz.”
I complete what I said I would, if only to kill more time, so no one will witness my not-quite walk of shame. Durban might not have bought my excuse, but having done some work makes me feel better. Having followed through also boosts my ego after the dressing-down Elodie gave me.
Yeah, I’m gonna mop up. The dust the boxes left behind might as well be on my skin.
