Page 17 of Bourbon Girl: part 4 of 6
New American Oakthe required type of wood for bourbon barrels—unused and from American white oak
I TUGGEDat the neckline of my barmaid costume as Jett and I approached the tour office. We'd been summoned.
Teresa's car sat in the parking lot like a pink-and-chrome warning sign, her vanity plate reading "BYBTFL" in letters that somehow managed to look smug. I felt my stomach tighten with the anticipation of whatever fresh humiliation she'd dreamed up.
"Brace yourself," Jett muttered under his breath as we climbed the office steps.
Inside, Teresa stood beside Marv's desk wearing a satisfied expression that immediately put me on high alert. Her clipboard was clutched against her chest like a shield, and when she spotted us entering, her smile turned predatory.
"Bernadette!" she called out with false enthusiasm. "Perfect timing. I have exciting news about implementing another one of your suggestions."
I searched my memory for any suggestions I might have made that could possibly excite Teresa, coming up blank. "Which one?"
"Remember how you mentioned making the safety presentation more engaging for customers?" She consulted her clipboard with theatrical precision. "Well, I've found the perfect solution. From now on, you'll sing the safety rules to the tune of 'Happy Birthday.' It'll be fun and memorable!"
I opened my mouth to protest, but Teresa continued with mounting glee.
"I've already written out the lyrics for you," she said, extending a folded piece of paper. "Sing it with real enthusiasm, now. Customers love interactive entertainment."
My hands trembled slightly as I unfolded the paper. The safety rules had been awkwardly shoehorned into the familiar melody:Please remain seated on the bus, please remain seated on the bus, please keep your hands inside the windows, and listen to your tour guide.
"Teresa," I began carefully, "I'm not sure this is—"
"Not sure?" Her eyebrows shot up with mock surprise. "I'm only taking your suggestions."
"Not sure?" Her eyebrows shot up with mock surprise. "I'm only taking your suggestions.Are you questioning my managerial decisions? Because if you're not comfortable following company policies, perhaps you'd be happier finding employment elsewhere."
Marv nodded enthusiastically from behind his desk, apparently oblivious to the power play unfolding in his office. "Marvelous idea!"
I looked at Jett, who was watching the exchange with tightly controlled anger, then back at Teresa's expectant face. The rational part of my mind screamed that this was ridiculous, degrading, designed to humiliate me into quitting. But the practical part reminded me that I needed this job, needed the income, needed some stability while I waited for DNA results and figured out my next move.
"No problem," I said, forcing my voice to remain steady.
"Wonderful!" Teresa clapped her hands together with genuine delight. "And I'll be riding along today to make sure everything goes smoothly."
Twenty minutes later, I stood at the front of the bus facing eight customers—a retirement group from Ohio who'd been chattering excitedly about their bourbon adventure. Teresa satin the front seat with her clipboard ready, while Jett kept his eyes firmly focused on the rearview mirror, avoiding eye contact with what was about to unfold.
"Before we begin our journey," I announced, my voice pitched higher than usual with nerves, "I need to go over some important safety information."
I cleared my throat, looked down at the lyrics Teresa had provided, and felt every ounce of my dignity preparing to abandon ship. But bills were bills, and pride was a luxury I couldn't afford.
"Please remain seated on the bus," I began singing to the tune of 'Happy Birthday,' my voice wavering with mortification. "Please remain seated on the bus..."
The customers looked confused, then a few began to smile. But it was when I reached the second verse that something unexpected happened.
Jett's voice joined mine.
His baritone was rich and surprisingly good, adding harmony to my trembling soprano as we sang together about keeping hands inside windows and listening to tour guides. The combination transformed my solo humiliation into something that sounded almost... intentional.
"Please follow all the safety rules," we finished together, "and have a wonderful day!"
The Ohio retirees burst into spontaneous applause, several of them laughing with genuine delight.
I caught Teresa's expression in my peripheral vision—surprise mixed with annoyance that her attempt to embarrass me had backfired. Her pen remained poised over her clipboard, but for once she seemed uncertain about what to write.
I turned to look at Jett in the rearview mirror, feeling a rush of gratitude so powerful it made my chest tight. He caught my eye and winked—a quick, conspiratorial gesturethat somehow managed to transform the entire morning. The warmth that spread through me at that simple acknowledgment was completely disproportionate to the situation, but I couldn't bring myself to care.
"Well," Teresa said, her voice carefully controlled, "that was... adequate. Let's see how the rest of the tour goes."
