Page 36 of The Rule of 3

Smelzer scowled at them.

For the next few hours, nothing at all was discussed beyond the size of the fish they caught and what seemed to be attracting the fish to their lines. Tanner caught a beautiful twenty-one-inch rainbow and then three that were about fourteen inches. Oscar took those to prepare for their lunches. The large one was put on ice to take home. Eli rapidly landed his limit of five trout all under fifteen inches and decided to change it up for the rest of the day and do some catch and release. He pulled out a fly reel and tried that a few times, laughing that he’d never catch on to that technique. Deciding it was too much work, he finally sat back in the shade and relative coolness of the canopy and watched the beautiful day go by as he thought about how happy he was with Tanner and Zoë.

The whole time they fished, the bodyguard scanned their surroundings with an eagle eye and helped handle the fish for them once they were caught. He was like an efficient, mostly silent giant who took care of whatever needed doing.

Tanner and Eli had to point out to Smelzer that two of the fish he caught could earn him a big fine if he didn’t release them. He grumbled a lot about the goodie-two-shoes assholes at the Fish and Wildlife Department and tossed back the fish with some colorful swear words.

Eli would have bet good money that Smelzer would have kept the illegally-sized fish had they not been there to insist that he release them. Everything about the old man made his skin crawl.

After a delicious lunch of fresh-cooked trout, Eli and Tanner were tired and ready to call it quits. They’d soaked in more sun than was necessary and wanted to spend what was left of the day with Zoë. Eli suggested, “A cold beer sounds good while we head back. Anyone else want me to grab one for you?” He headed toward the refrigerator in the covered area where they’d been eating.

But he stopped before opening it when Smelzer suddenly demanded, “You boys bourbon drinkers?”

Laughing, Tanner answered, “Of course. I grew up in Kentucky. Eli’s become a convert.”

“Then forget the lame-ass beer and let’s have a real drink.” Smelzer headed to his previously unopened cooler. The bodyguard watched the man closely as Smelzer reached inside. There seemed to be a bottle nestled among a bunch of peanut butter sandwiches in plastic bags and a few apples. Satisfied that the old guy wasn’t producing a weapon, the bodyguard silently stepped back.

“Get me some glasses, and you’ll both experience something new and special,” he ordered in a crabby voice. The bodyguard quickly placed three glasses on the table, and Smelzer ignored the man. He brandished a bottle of something that was unfamiliar to Eli and Tanner.

After pouring three shots of an amber liquor into the glasses, Smelzer handed one to Eli and one to Tanner. He held his own aloft and cackled, “Here’s mud in your eye!” and he downed his own in one gulp.

Frowning, Tanner sniffed at his own glass, and Eli did the same. Then both men took a tentative sip and grimaced.

“What is this?” asked Tanner. “It doesn’t taste much like bourbon to me.”

“More like rot gut,” mumbled Eli as he stared questioningly at Tanner. He sniffed the glass again with a quizzical scowl.

Undaunted, Smelzer broke out into the first smile they’d seen from him all day. It looked like a lecherous grin and was terribly off-putting. “This here’s my pet project, boys!” He poured another glass for himself as he smacked his lips eagerly. “It’s gluten-free, low-calorie bourbon. If I can market it that way, I’ll make a killing. How do you like that?”

Tanner took his seat again next to Eli at the table and said, “Have a seat, Mr. Smelzer.” Smelzer sat, and his expression lost all of its former happiness. He was back to surly in an instant, but Tanner explained to him, “First of all, I’ve toured enough of Kentucky’s fine distilleries to know that bourbon is already gluten-free because of the distillation process of the corn that’s used in its production. And second of all, why would anyone care if it has fewer calories?”

Snorting as if Tanner were an imbecile, Smelzer huffed, “Health, sonny boy. Some people want a drink that won’t make ‘em fat. They wanna think they’re drinkin’ thestate beverage, but there hasn’t been a bourbon before mine that fits this niche. I could corner the market on health-conscious, weight-conscious drinkers with this and make a mint! I got the idea when my wife stopped drinkin’ because of the extra calories. Named it after her too.” He proudly showed them the bottle that had a curvaceous woman on the label with the name Payslee Premium Bourbon just below her tits. “She lovesthisstuff.”

Eli squinted at him and asked, “Are you even able to get this stuff licensed? Is it really bourbon? I think it tastes like shit.”

“You watch your mouth, smartass,” Smelzer growled at Eli. “Of course, it’s licensed.” Turning to Tanner, he explained, “This is where you and your truffle-eatin’pretty boyhere come in handy, though.” He had a nasty gleam in his eye that sent shivers down Eli’s spine. “You might want to call off your goon here for a minute unless you want him to get an earful of some shit you don’t want made public.”

Eli instructed his guard to step to the bow of the boat where he and the guide were out of earshot but could still see them.

As the big guy ambled away, Smelzer turned his beady eyes on Tanner and asked, “You ever hear the one about the young man who goes into a bar and asks for five shots of bourbon?” He didn’t wait for a reply before he went on with the rest of his story. “The bartender asks, ‘Why so many shots, son?’ So, the guy tells him, ‘I’m celebratin’ my first blowjob.’ Then the bartender says, ‘Congratulations. How was it?’ The young guy answers, ‘Pretty good, but now I need to get the taste outta my mouth.’” Smelzer cackled wildly at his stupid joke as Eli and Tanner sat stone-faced. “Get it?” He glared at them. “Course you do.”

The chills running down Eli’s spine at this point turned into a full-on glacier. He was afraid to even glance at Tanner who hadn’t said a thing.

Smelzer leaned forward with a greedy look. “See, boys, here’s the thing. I understand that you,” he looked at Tanner, “have an uncle who’s a member of the Kentucky Distillers’ Association—and,” he addressed Eli, “your daddy has a shit ton of money. With your wealth and connections, we can get this product steamrolled into action, and I can make a fortune.” He looked back at Tanner with a malevolent took. “You need to figger out how to deal with the Distillers’ Association so they’ll give me a membership. You get that done, and I won’t show your pretty little wife a camera full of pictures I have locked in my safe.”

“What are you talking about?” asked Tanner with a furrowed brow.

Squinting malevolently, Smelzer explained, “A few years back, you started showing up everywhere in the press. It didn’t take a genius to understand it meant you had political ambitions beyond that dumpy little Hillbilly Holler you call a town. So, I watched and I listened and discovered I was right. I also had a tail put on you immediately. Right away, you took off for a pretty remote area to take your nasty little trip, but the good thing about that was that you felt safe in that cabin and never closed any curtains. I got some pretty fuckin’ dirty photos of you two. They’re all still on the camera, and they ain’t been released anywhere… yet. Do as I say, and you’ll get the camera and the governorship handed to you. Defy me, and yer pretty wife may just have a change of heart towards her husband. Get it?”

Eli fumed internally.As if Zoë would care! Still, the prospect of those photos getting out was awful, and he didn’t trust Smelzer at all.

“We can always claim the photos are doctored,” mused Tanner. Eli noticed Tanner’s face had lost a lot of color.

Smelzer’s attention turned quickly to Tanner. “I hear your pretty little wifey is a smart gal. You really think she’d buy that?”

Tanner buried his face in his hands and mumbled, “No. Not really. I guess you have us over a barrel, Mr. Smelzer… Colonel.”

“Now that’s more like it, sonny boy. Yer learnin’—finally.” He smiled his devilish leer at them and said in a nasal tone, “So here’s what you need to do.” He looked to see that he had their attention. “I want to be listed as a Heritage Distiller on the Kentucky Bourbon Trail. All of the visitors who travel through the state on the tasting tour can get their passports stamped atmydistillery too, and I can add that prestigious classification to the labels on my bottles. I’ll be happy to furnish free samples of this wonderful bourbon, and I’ll be providing a public service by giving them a low-cal, gluten-free beverage.”

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