Page 18 of Neat
The more that went wrong, the more wired I became — and the worse the tour got.
To his credit, Logan’s snarky know-it-all smirk had softened, and where he was quick and happy to point out that I’d missed part of the tour earlier, his voice was gentler as he filled in the blanks for stuff I missed as the tour continued.
Still, I was proving his point.
And I hated it.
“This is one of my favorite parts of the tour,” I explained when we made it to the barrel-raising warehouse. I schooled my nerves, reminding myself that I knew more about this place than almost anyone, and not to let a few hiccups rattle me. “Scooter Whiskey is one of the few distilleries that still makes and chars our own barrels. And this team of four is the incredible team that brings those barrels to life.”
I gestured behind me to the boys, and they all waved before getting back to work. I didn’t miss the questioning glance Noah gave Logan, but Logan just shook his head, as if to sayI’ll explain later.
“Now, you might remember them from the video earlier. If—”
“What video?”
I stopped, searching for the source of the question. It was an older woman, the one who had offered me her jacket.
“I’m sorry?”
“You said we should remember them from the video. What video?”
“I—” I paused, realizing I’d skipped over the small museum of history put together over the years. It included all the versions of our bottle, label, and the first blueprints for the distillery.
It also included the video I’d just referenced — that no one had seen, thanks to me.
“I’m sorry,” I said with a smile, shaking my head. “I must have forgotten that stop. We’ll circle around after this.”
“So, you forgot that stop, and the stop earlier, and, apparently, the other half of your shirt,” she said, eyeing my midriff disapprovingly before she looked at her husband. “You’d think the daughter’s owner would be better prepared to give a tour — especially one we paid for.”
There were murmurs of agreement from the rest of the group, and a few people looked away with discomfort.
I swallowed. “I’m very sorry about missing that, but I assure you, we’ll go—”
“I don’t need your assurance, dear. I need you to give us the tour we paid for. Yelp reviews said this was an amazing experience, and so far, it’s fallen pretty flat. I don’t know about these folks, but I’d like a refund.”
There were more nods, more agreements, and something that felt a lot like embarrassment settled low in my stomach. If I’d have been a more emotional woman, I might have teared up, but as it was, I just stood there, frozen like a stupid deer in headlights, not knowing what to do or say to make it right.
My eyes found Logan, and he frowned, tucking his clipboard under his arm as he made his way to the front to stand next to me.
“I apologize for the mishaps in today’s tour, ladies and gentlemen. Mallory is a new tour guide, and this is her first tour she’s led by herself. As you can imagine, it can be a little nerve-wracking.”
He touched my arm — just for a second — but it was the only source of warmth I felt in that moment.
“We’d be happy to provide refunds,” he continued. “But first, let me tell you a little more about these barrel-raisers, and then we’ll get to the best part — the tasting. Sound like a fair deal?”
There were some chuckles and murmurs of approval at the mention of the tasting, and as if it was the most natural thing in the world, Logan slipped on his charm and took over, doing his best to turn the tour around.
And I couldn’t even stay to watch it.
I smiled as best I could at the group, letting them all pass me before I escaped out the back door of the warehouse and practically ran back to the main building. I crossed my arms over my exposed stomach, shaking my head as the disaster of a tour replayed over and over in my mind. By the time I made it back to the tour guide lobby, I felt something so close to what I remembered crying feeling like that I locked myself in the bathroom so I could get my shit together.
I wasn’t sure how long I sat there, fully clothed on the toilet, elbows on my knees and face in my hands as I focused on breathing. In and out, inhale and exhale. No matter how I tried, I couldn’t calm down, and it didn’t take me long to realize why.
I had made a fool of myself, just like Logan had said.
It was time to eat crow, to apologize to him and take back everything I’d said. Suddenly, my shirt felt idiotic. It was my sad attempt to rebel in whatever little way I could against my father and the deal we’d struck, and it’d been the catalyst for this whole disastrous day.
I had acted like a child, and what was worse, I’d lived up to the nickname I loathed so much.
