Page 7 of Bourbon Girl, Part 2 of 6
The woman must have sensed my scrutiny because she straightened and turned toward the street, one hand shading her eyes as she stared directly at my van. Even from this distance, I could see her frown of curiosity—or perhaps concern. Ginger was clearly out of place here, as conspicuous as a weed in a rose garden.
Heat flooded my cheeks as I fumbled to start the engine. The van wheezed to life with its characteristic rattle, and I pulled away from the curb with as much dignity as I could muster. In the side mirror, I caught a glimpse of the woman stillstanding in her perfect garden, watching my retreat with obvious bewilderment.
As I drove back toward the campground, the image of Keith Banyon's beautiful home burned in my mind. If he was indeed my father, he'd built himself a life of quiet prosperity and tasteful comfort—everything my mother and I had never had.
The question that haunted me as I navigated back to my temporary world was simple: where exactly did I fit into that picture?
August 8, Friday
starter culturea prepared yeast mixture used to initiate fermentation
THE LATEafternoon sun beat through the strip mall's plate glass windows as Jett and I pushed through the office door, both of us wilted from a day of shepherding tourists through sweltering distillery tours. The ancient air conditioner wheezed an asthmatic greeting, but today it competed with the overpowering stench of cloying perfume and cigarette smoke.
A woman sat perched on the edge of Marv's desk like an exotic bird, her platinum blonde hair teased into an elaborate style that defied gravity. She wore a hot pink blouse that plunged dramatically at the neckline and tight white jeans. Gold jewelry glittered at her throat, wrists, and fingers, catching the fluorescent light with every animated gesture.
Marv hovered beside her like a satellite in orbit, his face flushed with manic joy and his usual nervous energy amplified to an almost painful degree.
"Bernadette! Jett!" he called out, his voice cracking slightly with excitement. "Teresa's back!"
Teresa turned toward us with a smile that didn't quite reach her heavily made-up eyes. Her gaze swept over me with the calculating assessment of someone sizing up competition, then shifted to Jett with obvious appreciation.
"Good to see you, Jett." she purred, sliding off the desk to approach him with predatory grace.
Jett's posture went rigid as Teresa extended a manicured hand, holding it a beat too long when he reluctantly shook it. Herfingers traced across his palm as she released him, and I watched a flush creep up his neck.
"Good to see you too, ma'am," he said, taking a step backward.
Her attention swung to me. "And you must be the tour guide," she said, her voice losing its flirtatious warmth.
"I'm Bernadette," I confirmed.
"I've been looking at the online reviews, and while they're improved, there's definitely room for enhancement."
From the look of her, the woman knew all about enhancements, I conceded.
"Teresa's got great ideas," Marv interjected. "She's going to help us take the business to the next level!"
Teresa's eyes narrowed as she studied my appearance with unconcealed disapproval. "First thing we need to address is presentation. That shirt is doing you no favors, honey. You're drowning in all that fabric."
Heat crept up my neck as her gaze raked over my oversized company polo. "It's the size Marv ordered—"
"Well, that's going to change," Teresa interrupted with a dismissive wave. "Sex sells in this business. You need to show a little skin, maybe get that hair teased up. Tourists tip better when the guide's easy on the eyes."
Jett shifted uncomfortably beside me. Marv, however, nodded eagerly as if his ex-wife was dispensing pearls of wisdom.
"She's right," he agreed. "We need to think about the complete customer experience."
Teresa smiled triumphantly, then moved to the filing cabinet where she began rifling through papers with the authority of someone reclaiming territory. "Now that I'm back, we're going to implement some real changes around here. Professional standards, better marketing, upgraded uniforms." She shotanother pointed look at my shirt. "Everyone needs to up their game if we want to compete with the big tour companies."
My phone buzzed against my leg, and I glanced down to see a text from Dylan.Hoped to see you yesterday. Everything okay?
My stomach clenched with embarrassment as I remembered fleeing from Goldenrod after seeing him with the blonde.
"Ooh, someone's popular," Jett said, peering over my shoulder with a grin. "Let me guess—loverboy wondering where you disappeared to?"
"It's nothing," I muttered, but my fingers were already typing a response.Everything's fine. Just got busy. I'll try to stop by next time.
Teresa's voice cut through our exchange. "Personal calls during business hours? That's another thing we'll need to address."
