Crushing (The Southern California Wine Country Series) Read online

  Amanda said, “That sun is really bright this morning.”

  “Dangerously bright, my eyes are watering … Well; I must get to the rest of the appetizers.” She scurried toward the kitchenette. “I think I should make something with chocolate for today, one of Debra’s famous recipes.”

  “That’s a good plan. Let me know if you need a taste tester, ok?” Amanda grinned. “I’m off to set up the bar.”

  “– You should talk to him.”

  “Have you?”

  “Yes. He wasn’t interested. All business.”

  Amanda wondered how she might keep her attention on the customers and the wine since she only needed to glance sideways and see them playing. She told herself that it would be dark when they play and they are probably some raspy, croaking, death-metal singers anyway. Although Martin had said, one of them could sing nice. She wondered which one?

  Amanda lined up the wine glasses and arrayed the first sample bottles, carefully peeling the metal foil capsules back so all she needed was to pop the corks out with the bench top cork remover. She placed water decanters and cracker trays along the bar top and stood back waiting for the arrival of their first customers.

  The big oak doors to the patio swung wide as Kyle pulled them open. Sunlight streamed through the doorway and outlined Kyle in silhouette. Amanda’s eyes locked with his, how the crystal blue of those eyes pierced her soul. She could feel the sun’s sudden warmth bounce through the door around Kyle and caress her arms and shoulders like a divine hug. He pushed back his black hair and stepped forward. His all-black guitar was slung over his shoulder so it hung across his back, the headstock of the guitar dripping from his side like a tomahawk.

  “Hey, I wanted to check the sound of our setup. Do you know if anyone minds if we make –” Kyle’s precise stride faltered, the closing oak doors appeared like the ruffled wings of anxious gods, and he hesitated, “– some noise?”

  Amanda shook her head in a way that seemed more like her body shivered from the cold.

  Kyle came close to the bar. Amanda felt the swinging doors pinch off the light and ensconce the tasting room in darkness. A brooding dangerous coldness compared to the reaching rays that followed Kyle in.

  “I’m Kyle. What’s your name?” He held his hand out to her. She saw Aztec-motifs carved into the pewter beads.

  “Amanda,” She said, his hand warm and strong, difficult to release from hers. She withdrew her hand before their touch became awkward. He smelled of leather and dangerous music – the dangerous and delicious smell of a rebel. She ran her fingers through her hair to push it away from her face, twisting a few strands behind her ear. All she could think of was dangerous. If he rides a motorcycle then he would be the perfect man to screw up her life, but she would secretly love the entire ride.

  “I’m going to have to ask you to please stay in here tonight when we’re playing, I can already see you will distract me too much.” Kyle turned and banged his guitar tuners against the bar. The strings twanged a mixed spiel of embarrassed notes. He spun the guitar around to check that nothing was damaged. His eyes came back to Amanda’s, “Sorry.”

  Amanda put her hand over her mouth to hide a sudden smile. Then she asked, “Is it just the two of you playing?”

  “No, besides my brother Sardis, we have a friend that plays bass guitar. He’ll arrive tonight, hopefully on time. Though, I have a couple of songs we can get by with if he’s late.”

  “What’s that wrapped around your hand?”

  Kyle uncoiled the strap, “This is my necklace. A leather lace through a hole in an old penny. I wear it as a necklace when I’m not playing but I use it as a pick when I do.”

  “Why do you use that for a pick?”

  “It gives me a sharper attack and better tone than any other pick I’ve tried. It's easy to grip and the lace keeps me from dropping it.”

  “It’s really worn.” Amanda looked back into Kyle’s face, “Anything special about it?”

  “I got this penny in change for a candy bar I bought in Wisconsin when I was a kid. I saw the California Mint made it. I saved it and kept thinking about it and soon realized I wanted to leave for California.” He did not tell her that this particular penny was the only money he had in his pocket when his father threw him and Sardis out of the house. A few times, he almost spent it covering sales tax but put it on the lace to keep from losing it. “I knew my future was tied into this lucky coin.” Kyle pushed through the doors. He signaled to his brother who sat down and began tapping on a snare drum while Kyle plugged in his guitar. He glanced along the ray of sunlight that illuminated Amanda’s face through the windows and the corner of his mouth curled into a small smile.

  Amanda watched Kyle. She saw him start his fingers along the low notes of the guitar neck. He leaned into the volume pedal and his notes swelled as the chords reached across the patio and vibrated Amanda’s lungs. She gulped for air. The lightly distorted rock music that came from his guitar brought Julie from the kitchenette and several workers with wine splashed on their coveralls came up from the wine cave.

  Kyle’s effervescent notes filled her with awe while his voice gripped her with longing. Something in the timbre of his voice tugged at her. She had a boyfriend once that she loved talking to on the phone when he went away to school because of the sound of his voice. She kept that long distance relationship going too long. Kyle’s singing was more though, something rugged and hot – it wrapped her desire tighter.

  His music quickly found the toy wind-up key sticking from her body and each strum of his guitar twisted the brass flanges around and around, ratcheting up the spring dozens of notches at a time. Amanda squeezed her thighs tighter, fearing that she might suddenly uncoil in a mouse nest of uncontrolled spring wire. The drums kept a beat like sharp rubble under it all that allowed the guitar music to tug at her and soar. She watched his fingers and wanted them running up and down her in as rapid bursts as he did across his fret board during a guitar solo. She listened as he bent the strings in yearning notes that yanked her higher.

  Then Kyle waved to his brother and they changed into several other song pieces as Kyle kicked a few more pedals at his feet. Sardis’ dirty blond hair shook from his hammering arm blows to the drumheads. Then they stopped, the sound echoed away across the wispy grape vines among the vineyard surrounding the winery. Kyle closed up his pedal board and carried it like an executive briefcase with the guitar again slung over his back.

  Applause from everyone came as he stepped into the tasting room. He grinned. “Thanks. Sorry for the noise, but we’re done checking the setup. See everyone this evening.” He caught Amanda’s eyes and winked at her before turning and leaving through the open oak doors.

  Amanda saw that Julie stood beside her, “I didn’t hear you come up.”

  “Loud music.” Julie said, still watching out the windows at the empty band kit waiting for the evening. “He liked you, Amanda.”

  “I thought you were in the kitchenette?”

  “My lurking skills are improving. Or you were too distracted.”

  “Yeah, must have been.” Amanda looked down at her hands and rubbed them on her thighs to get the clamminess off. “Whew. Do you need any help? I’m all set on the bar until customers arrive.”

  Julie said, “Sure. You could run the kneading machine to mix up the dough for the baguettes.” Amanda followed Julie into the kitchenette. “Here’s the recipe card.”

  Amanda pulled down a bowl and started mixing ingredients. She needed to distract herself from the images of Kyle that jumbled around in her head, “Hey Julie, you said you’re taking college classes? What degree?”

  “Archeology. My parents hate it – they think I won’t make any money, probably true, but I like it.”

  “Dinosaurs?”

  “No. Human artifacts. There’s this dig, if you can call it that. It’s not the typical dig in the sandy Fertile Crescent or the jungles of Brazil.” Julie cropped the stems off lettuce that she section
ed into large salad bowls. “This one is more challenging. They found a thirty-eight gun British Frigate locked in the Antarctica ice.”

  “As in the bottom of the world, Antarctica?”

  “It will be an adventure. I’ll need to get a parka and big mittens. Nothing like I’ve ever seen here in California. And they go in the middle of summer down there. Anyway, the whole project is early. Dr. Cooper, the lead scientist, and his staff spent months already working on grant proposals to salvage it for research. So far the expense of getting scientific teams down there compared with the possible business value has not enticed many. Except for a Chicago pharmaceutical firm that expressed interest, thinking they could get biological organisms that might still be viable after such long-term freezing. Perhaps the study will uncover long extinct viruses, molds, or tiny organisms. They believe they might extract new medicines, antibiotics, or something. But they are only mildly serious so far.”

  “A trip to Antarctica could be cool.”

  Julie laughed, “Wouldn’t it?” Then she sighed. “Such looks on that guy. What’s on your list?”

  “What list?”

  “Who are you looking for? Handsome, wealthy, what?”

  Amanda tapped another scoop of flour into the bowl. “I don’t know. Love. True Love. That’s what I want.”

  “Not money or a rocking body?”

  “Those are perks. We can choose anyone we want right now.”

  “You can. I am plain. My thirties frighten me,” Julie shuddered. “I’ll be old then.”

  Amanda tipped her head, “Thirty is nine years away, that’s like forever. And you are pretty.”

  “Maybe.”

  “About your question, great looks makes me pay attention. But I’ve seen some guys that under normal conditions are toads but with the right haircut, clothes, and cologne they can be quite handsome.”

  “You want a fixer-upper?”

  “Depends. It’s just a lot of guys can be handsome if they’d let themselves be.”

  “So you’re still after looks.” Julie teased.

  “After you notice him then it’s a matter of keeping your attention. That’s the hard, er, difficult part.”

  Julie laughed. “How about a hot guy wearing droopy sweats and unshaven for days –”

  “– Oh, a little unshaven can be sexy.”

  “– a little unshaven is sexy. That guitar player Kyle? Fantastic. I bet he doesn’t even try, it’s just the way he is.”

  “Thanks for the reminder. I was trying to forget.”

  Julie said, “I can’t wait to see them play tonight. Maybe I’ll get someone to cover and I can just be out there to watch the whole night.”

  “I think the staff is thin on help to find subs. Especially since I want to get someone to cover too.” Amanda grinned.

  “Oh, you’re right.” Julie poured crumbled feta cheese and sliced cherry tomatoes into the salad, “When I’ve seen the hottest Hollywood actors play homeless or downtrodden character bits they are pretty. It’s hard to hide good looks.”

  “I don’t know. Some let themselves go. What about money?”

  “A hot Hollywood actor probably has a big pile of money.”

  Amanda said, “Not always. At least not many in the tabloids. The tabloids are selling copies, they have to be dramatic.”

  Julie looked at Amanda, “You mean exaggerate?”

  “An actor that stays married and does normal things like take their kids to school and baseball games – that doesn’t sell newspapers.”

  “How about an ugly guy with a big pile of cash?” Julie said, “He could dress up in fancy suits all the time.”

  Amanda said, “What is it about fancy suits? Classics? Like jeans and no shirt. I can’t get enough of either.”

  “Depends if that body is rocking or not.”

  Amanda saw her reflection in a stainless stew pot laying on its side on a shelf, “A body stretches out over the years. People get heavier as they get older; it’s in our genes. Trauma and everything else in life damages a body. A body is transient.”

  “But a fat guy right at the gate of life is less likely to age well than a trim guy.”

  “Possible, but I’ve seen old high school pictures of people that were husky in school but then watched their lifestyle so they looked better in their forties than they did way back then. Meanwhile, the trim football star ends up with a beer gut bigger than two line backers duct-taped together.”

  Julie laughed. “So what about a guy’s hands? Do you want your guy to be good with his hands?”

  Amanda could only think of Kyle’s fingers racing down his guitar strings while his other hand strummed the pick back and forth at a pace that made her knees buckle. “Yeah. I think being good with their hands, and their bodies, is important.”

  Julie said, “I had a boyfriend once that said he looked at elbows - because cosmetic surgery, collagen injections, and lotion treatments hide everything else. Elbows were his window on age.”

  Amanda twisted her arms around to look at her elbows, “What does he look for?”

  Julie held her elbows up to see too, “He didn't say but I've looked at mine and others to figure it out … and I can't tell.”

  “Yeah, your elbows look like mine.”

  Julie dropped her arms to her side, “Anyway. Guys want pretty faces and big boobs.”

  “That’s a cliché. Smart guys want smart girls.”

  “Your mother said that, right? I never believed my mother on that point.”

  “It’s not propaganda. I have watched guys. A pretty blond can attract their attention, but if she starts spouting dumb blond-isms, then they look elsewhere. Dumb guys don’t care.”

  “You really think smart guys won't bang a dumb pretty girl that is offering? Or a dumb ugly girl? Or a mean girl? Or anything that looks like a girl?”

  “You’re funny, Julie.” The corner of Amanda’s mouth curled in a half smile, “At least some have restraint; we’re talking the smart ones, right?” She glanced out the open doorway and glimpsed the empty microphone standing at attention, waiting for the evening. She bit her lip. She thought of how close his lips would be to the microphone’s wire mesh. She wondered the probability of a musician making it big and the numbers seemed small and remote. Drunkenness and drug use seemed more likely when five or ten years pass without hitting it big. Did she want to get into something like that with such a person? Could she take it?

  Julie said, “My father once told me I could marry more in fifteen minutes than I could earn in a lifetime.”

  The spell broken, Amanda’s face came back to Julie, “That is really crass.”

  “But he had a point. He also told me that women have a shelf life, in addition to a narrow reproductive window – so I should choose a mate accordingly, getting less choosy the older I got.”

  “You can’t be serious. That is appalling! Women are not dependent on guys any more. I’m working toward my own career.”

  “What’s your career plan?”

  “I’m getting the common per-requisites done right now while I figure something out. I kind of like this wine business. It seems fun so far. But I was thinking of electrical engineering too.”

  “You’re that good with math? I can’t believe how much math I have in Archeology.”

  “I held my own in school.”

  Julie’s hands rested on the side of the salad bowl, “How about this. Pretend you are an engineer. What if your boyfriend or husband does not have a job? Will you hate him?”

  “Few take issue when the guy works and the wife or girlfriend stays home taking care of the kids, the pet, or even just the house. It’s acceptable if she sells jewelry, volunteers at the school, or does something as an outgrowth of her hobbies. It’s only fair to be the other way around.”

  “But what do you think if you were in that situation?”

  Amanda said, “I’m looking for a partner. I want someone who will be there as a friend, emotionally support me when I need it,
love me, understand my occasional craziness and –”

  “Hot sex several times a week.”

  Amanda grinned, “Yeah. That is a nice consideration.”

  “What about money? If he doesn’t earn any money, could you do it?”

  “Half of wealth is keeping your expenses low, so even if he doesn’t work then it’s doable provided you know that situation. Going in expecting two incomes and spending like it … that creates stress.”

  “Did your father ever give you any crazy advice?”

  Amanda’s smile pinched. “I only grew up with my mother.” Amanda thought, and she was not the best teacher. “My father left us when I was two.”

  “Oh, that’s so sad. Do you know where he lives? Are you mad at him?”

  “No one knows where he lives. I was sad for a long time. What can I do? I did not matter enough to him to stay. He doesn't matter enough for me to care now.”

  Chapter 3

  Kyle pushed the switch so the window went down, “Did you see that girl at the bar?” The window squealed as the actuator skipped and jumped every inch or two scratching at the glass to fulfill his command. Kyle wondered how to make that sound on his guitar and if it would fit in a song somehow, an ominous scratch of a monster.

  Sardis twisted the steering wheel backing out their parking space. “Blond, thin, and tight. Lips that would look great around my cock. What’s not to like about her?”

  “Hey! We just met her. She seemed nice when I talked with her, too.”

  “I saw you banging your instrument against the bar like a terrier you were so nervous. You’ll screw it up with her.” Sardis accelerated along Rancho California Road, the car wheezing up to speed. The rusty fenders flapped in the wind and only added to the vibration of its imbalanced wheels, as if the contraption stampeded like a goose galloping for a takeoff. “She’s mine, Kyle. All that tight body of hers freshly peeled out of the mold – mine mine mine.”

  “I talked to her first.”

  “Talk doesn’t mean shit. It’s in the doing –” Sardis stuck his tongue out and waggled it up and down at Kyle.