Page 43 of Sharkbait
The ‘Jeopardything’ is the opposite of fun.
Earlier, when Ralph said it flares up when I’m in crowds, that wasn’t entirely accurate. I’ve learned it has less to do with how many people are in the room and more to do with the pressure I feel to please them.
Gail says it has to do with my childhood.
Doesn’t everything, though?
But I’m a twenty-three-year-old woman now.
I shouldn’t need coping mechanisms anymore.
“Who is Dom Perignon?” James says.
“What?” I ask.
He’s leaning his elbows on the bar, a soft smile on his handsome face.
“The answer to your question is Dom Perignon. He’s the seventeenth-century champagne-drinking monk. Except, this isJeopardywe’re talking about, so I suppose I should say that’s the ‘question to your answer.’”
“That’s correct!” I say with wonder.
People don’t usually participate when I slip into this mode. They mostly stare and stammer, like the fancy ladies did at the event tonight. Not that I can blame them. But it made me want to run home and hide.
“What else you got?” James rises to his full height and gives me the universal gesture for “bring it.”
I straighten my spine and continue with less shame this time. More confidence.
“This Grande Dame of Champagne took on her husband’s wine business when she was widowed at age twenty-seven.”
“Who is Barbe-Nicole Ponsardin, aka Widow Clicquot or Veuve Clicquot?” he says. “I’m sure I just murdered those French pronunciations, but you get the idea.”
“Correct!” I high-five him, suddenly feeling like he’s the only one here who truly gets me. “The accent was awful, but you basically got the pronunciation, so I’m pretty sure Alex would cut you some slack.”
“Gimme another,” he says.
This is surprisingly fun.
“The following line: ‘Champagne, with its foaming whirls, as white as Cleopatra’s pearls’ is fromDon Juan, a poem by this eighteenth-century English poet.”
“Who is Lord Byron?”
“Yes!” I say. “Wow!”
Mabel laughs. “Look at them! They could go all night!”
“Sounds like they already did,” Ralph mumbles.
“I’ve only been asked booze-related questions so far, and booze is basically my biz,” James says as he waves to a group of regulars coming through the door. “So don’t be too impressed.”
“You know, ‘jeopardy’ is one of those words I always spell wrong on the first try,” Wally says between sips.
I’m still getting to know Wally, but Mabel is head over heels in love with him, and that’s enough for me. Plus, he has this dry sense of humor and no-nonsense attitude about him that I really like.
“We all have words like that.” James gathers four pint glasses, lines them up under the spouts, and begins to pour for the folks who just came in.
He knows what people need without them even asking.
Wally continues, “Oh yeah, I have a buncha those. Broccoli is one of them. Is it double C’s? Double L’s? Both? Neither? Fuck if I know. Bureaucracy is another. I mean, what the hell are they doing with that one? They’re gonna put an E and A and a U before a C and tell us to pronounce it ‘ock’? Fuck that shit. Oh and goddamn, the word ‘rhythm’ gets me every single time. How many H’s are there, and where the hell do I put them? You’re seriously telling me there is no vowel in the second syllable? Shit.”
