As they pulled up to Josh’s parent’s house, they could see several cars in the driveway. It was just after 9:00pm, and the party appeared to be going strong. Before they exited the vehicle, they gave each other a concerned glance - not quite sure what to say or how to reconcile what had happened on the drive.
Josh spoke first. “Look... let’s just keep that between us. I’ll explain that we left the office late working on a deal, and then we got caught up in traffic.”
Kyle grimaced. “Ok. I’m cool with that.”
They got out of the car, and walked to the front door. Loud conversation and occasional laughing could be heard from the porch. Josh opened the door and stepped into his parent’s large living room, which was brightly lit and full of all his parents’ friends and business associates.
The semi-familiar refrain of Fleetwood Mac’s “Secondhand News” could be heard coming from the den, fading into Lindsey Buckingham’s screeching guitar solo.
Josh’s mom was the first to see them enter from across the room. She pushed her way over to them and gave Josh a big hug. “Hi sweetheart! I’m so glad you finally made it!”. She gave Kyle a big hug next, which he reluctantly returned.
Mrs. Peterson was a large woman. She was dressed in a fashionable gown that was sparkly, but understated at the same time. Her dark blonde hair was done up and featured a scarlet ribbon bow. Her hands were bedazzled in several gold and platinum rings, featuring a variety of fine jewels. Near her light cleavage, she bore a small multi-colored brooch of a clown head. She had owned this clown brooch for years, and it was her favorite item to wear at parties. Josh always found it a bit odd and even creepy.
“So nice to see you, Mrs. Peterson”, Kyle offered after she released him.
“Your father is in the kitchen. I think he’s talking about cigars or whiskey or golf or some such. Go say hi to him.”
“Yeah, sure thing, mom.”
They made their way across the living room, careful not to step on any toes or spill any drinks. Also, careful to avoid getting pulled into an unwanted conversation with his parent’s friends. They stepped into the kitchen and could see Josh’s dad, Ralph, holding forth with two men about the virtues of various whiskies. Josh recognized the first man as Bill Williams - his father’s partner in starting Delta Fund. As he walked up, he said, “Gentlemen, please don’t mind my father. He fancies himself a connoisseur of whiskies. But, honestly, I don’t think he knows the difference between Jim Beam, Jack Daniel’s, and Johnny Walker.”
Ralph grabbed his lanky arm around his son’s head and neck, and pulled him close. Ralph was clearly a bit drunk at this point, so Josh just pushed him off.
Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.
“How are you doing Joshy?”, his father said.
“Good... good. Closing deals, making money. You know the drill.”
“Hey Kyle - how have you been? I feel like it’s been a while since I’ve seen you.” Ralph said, extending a hand to Kyle.
“Well. I’ve been quite… well, Mr. Peterson.” Kyle responded.
“Good. Good. And your mother? How is she getting along?”
“Thanks for asking. She is doing okay. I think she gets lonely sometimes, but she’ll never admit it to me. I thought of getting her a cat or something, but I don’t think she wants the responsibility.”
“Well, can you blame her? I’ve spent my life trying to run from responsibility!”. Everyone laughed at Ralph’s joke.
“Josh, Kyle - you guys know Bill...”. Bill Williams shook Josh’s and Kyle’s hand.
“And this is Philip Russell, the third... “
Josh and Kyle traded subtle glances at each other.
They each offered their hand to Philip.
“Can I get you fellas something to drink?”, Ralph offered.
“I got it, dad. As long as you didn’t suck down all of the 10-year-old Michter’s yet?” Josh replied.
“Not all of it, though we did make a pretty good dent in it.” Ralph said.
“Is that a good one?” Bill asked.
“Oh, heck yeah. Have you tried it?” Josh replied.
“Naw... I think Ralph has been stiffing us with some of his blended scotch, and holding off on the good stuff.”
“Well... you are in for a treat, then.... Neat? I assume?”
“Of course!”
“Mr. Russell... one for you as well?”
“That would be great, thank you”.
At that moment, Pete Sanford entered from another room.
“Pete!” Exclaimed Josh. “What are you doing here? I thought this was just for friends and family?”, he said, feigning condescension. “Bourbon?”.
“Absolutely”, Pete responded.
Josh and Kyle disappeared from the kitchen, and into the study where the good whiskies were kept in an old-school Murphy bar, which hung on the wall behind the desk. Josh opened the bar, and pulled five short old-fashioned glasses from the shelf, and set them on the platform. He opened the Michter’s 10-year-old bourbon, which appeared to be missing only a little. (Josh was relieved to find the “dent” they made was rather small).
As they got back to the kitchen, they could hear Ralph telling Philip something about his investment, but the conversation was quickly quieted.
“So, Josh – how’s the …”
“Ah ah ah ah…” piped up Josh’s father. “Now, Pete, this is a social occasion. Keep your office talk confined to the office, ok?”
Pete looked a little put out, even a tad embarrassed. But you don’t get to Pete’s position without a little backbone. So, he sucked it up, as he reared up on his heels and then his toes. Josh handed Pete his glass first to help break the obvious tension.
“Here you are, gentlemen. The finest whiskey in all of Kentucky.” Josh proclaimed as he handed each man his glass.
They raised their glasses, and as a choir, they chanted:
May you never lie, steal, cheat or drink.
But if you must lie, lie in each other’s arms.
If you must steal, steal kisses.
If you must cheat, cheat death.
And if you must drink, drink with us, your friends.
Then, they raised their glasses high, and clinked them before each taking a single large sip of the caramel colored liquid. They all smiled at each other as the nectar ran down their gullets, leaving a slight trail of hotness, tinged by a multitude of vanilla and oak, chocolate and caramel, spice and smoothness.