Page 22 of The Player in New Zealand
“What’s even the point?”
Oddly, this question was not directed at the non-alcs in general, but at the particular one Tane had just tasted.
“Smells like nothing. Tastes like nothing,” he said, swinging the bottle for another swig. The bottle looked comically small in his rugby ball–sized hands. “Won’t get you drunk like nothing.”
“That last one is the point,” I said.
“Aye, that one I won’t argue with, but come on. It should taste like something.”
That was the fourth nonalcoholic beer we’d tasted, and sadly, it was the best one so far. Two had been abominations, one of them making me gag. We’d stopped opening a bottle each and split one instead. But most of the drink was going down the drain.
Tane pulled the paper bag closer. The cool bottles had left condensation behind and the bag was tearing down the side.
“There’re three more left,” he said after counting.
I stuck out my tongue. “I need, like... a cracker.”
Tane slipped off his barstool and strode back into the kitchen, returning a few minutes later with some cheese and crackers.
I popped one into my mouth and Tane did the same. He chewed and swallowed quickly before setting his jaw.
“I did want to say that I was sorry,” Tane said, meeting my eye, and I choked on my cracker for a second.
“For missing the drink special,” he continued when I caught my breath, my cheeks flushing. “I know you worked hard on it. And I should have been there because it does matter.”
“Oh. Thanks,” I said, eyebrows raised in surprise.
“I apologized to everyone else, too: Nina, Marissa, Ron...” He gave me a small smile. “Anyway, let’s try another one, eh?” He reached into the bag for the next beer.
The apology was more than I’d been expecting, so I let it go and placed a new glass on the bar. Tane cracked open the next bottle, pouring half into the glass and saving the bottle for himself.
We locked eyes from across the bar.
“It’s Bavarian.” Tane sounded doubtful.
“We’ve been fooled before,” I said solemnly.
After a moment’s hesitation, I raised my glass. Tane clinked his beer against mine, and we took a small whiff of the aroma.
He raised an eyebrow. “It smells like beer....”
“It’s definitely light.” I took a bigger sniff. I looked into my glass, hesitating. “All right... I’m going in.”
We sipped at the same time. Tane’s brow furrowed as he rolled the beer around on his tongue. Since it was still in our mouths, that was a good sign.
It was light and weak, not a great beer but...
“Not bad,” Tane said.
“It tastes like a PBR.”
“What’s a PBR?”
“It’s a... well, just a cheap redneck beer.”
“Yeah, okay, redneck as.” The corner of Tane’s mouth twitched up as he took another sip. “This is the winner so far. Two more to go.”
Instead of pouring this one down the drain, I set them both to the side as Tane opened the next one. I finally had to ask: “Why are we trying nonalcoholic beers?”
