D is for Drunk by Rebecca Cantrell Page B

Guess he wanted to keep his cheeks pure.
    “You have come to try our wine,” Marcel said. “You are so lucky.”
    “We started with the pinot noir,” said Annabelle.
    “They will be ruined for the other wine after that.” Marcel picked up the glass that was supposed to have been Aidan’s.
    Annabelle poured Aidan another.
    “It’s called black pine—pinot noir,” said Marcel, “after the dark color and the way it looks like a pine cone with the grapes clustered so close together.”
    Sofia nodded. She felt as if she ought to be taking notes.
    “Drink some.” Marcel was very close to her now. He smelled of French perfume, but not overwhelming. “Pinot noir is known as ‘sex in a glass.’ Do you think this is true?”
    She took a small sip. She wasn’t sure what to say, and this felt like a test. “It has a little bit of cherry in the taste.”
    “Very good!” said Annabelle. “You have a talent for wine.”
    “Not cherry,” Marcel said. “Black cherry.”
    Sofia liked the Grigoryan’s pinot better, but didn’t say it.
    “I invited them to the party tonight,” Annabelle said. “They’re looking for new experiences.”
    She and Aidan hadn’t said that.
    “Those are things we can offer here,” Marcel said. “Perhaps more wine?”
    She tried different kinds of wine until they all started to taste alike, but still Annabelle kept pressing her to try something new. Sofia felt light-headed and flushed. “I think you should drive back.”
    Aidan reached for the keys in her hand, but Marcel took them first.
    “Such practical things, keys,” he said. “And yet they can lead to such delights.”
    “I like a fast car as much as the next woman,” Sofia said.
    Marcel smiled at her, and she felt dizzy. Something was wrong with his smile, but she couldn’t quite figure out what it was.
    Annabelle took the keys from Marcel and handed them to Aidan. “We will see you back here at seven, Sofia? We would most like that.”
    “Of course.” She would need to eat something and sober up a bit before she came back. How much wine had she drunk? Lots.
    Annabelle beamed at her, and Aidan looked pointedly at the door. No one had told him that he had a talent for wine, and it seemed to bother him. Sofia clinked her glass against his.
    “Down the hatch!” she said. It was a line from Half Pint Detective that came up whenever Half Pint and her friends were drinking juice.
    “I know you,” Marcel said suddenly. “You’re Sofia Salgado, are you not?”
    “I am.” She’d introduced herself, hadn’t she?
    “Are you a celebrity investor?” Marcel took the wineglass out of her hand. “Someone who dabbles at designing labels but doesn’t care what goes inside the bottle. We don’t want that kind of help. We’re doing fine on our own.”
    “She’s just a woman who loves our wine,” said Annabelle.
    “I’m not an investor,” Sofia said. “I came here to taste some wine.”
    “I should have seen this sooner.” Marcel looked over at Annabelle. “You arranged this?”
    “They showed up to taste some wine because a chef told them of us,” Annabelle said. “I did not call them here.”
    “This is not true.” Marcel grabbed Sofia’s arm above the elbow. “They’re here to see what we have that they might want. They’re vultures.”
    He marched Sofia across the room. His grip was so tight it hurt.
    “Hey!” she said. “Let go.”
    Aidan wasn’t so polite. He twisted Marcel’s hand off her arm so roughly Marcel yelped.
    “Don’t touch her,” Aidan said.
    Sofia was still trying to figure out what was going on. The wine made her brain feel foggy and slow. She was drunk.
    “Leave at once!” Marcel said. “At once!”
    Aidan put his hand on her back and directed her toward the door and the parking lot beyond. “Leaving will be our pleasure.”
    Marcel shouted at Annabelle in French. She yelled right back at him. Sofia couldn’t understand what they were saying, but it was clear they were