Sinners & Gin - Top Shelf

“I’m not much of a drinker.”

“Well, I am, and I’m a good teacher. And besides,” he said, “we’re on vacation.”

Matthew

“It’s about time you got back here,” Harley Crow said as I walked into the conference room of Spiked Roses.

“Vittorio Costa knows it’s you who took his daughter,” Kenneth said as I took my seat at the table.

“Good. And?” I asked.

“He’s willing to play ball. He wants this handled fast and as quietly as he can. He’s trying to save face,” Lennon said. “The last thing he wants is to show any weakness to the other mafia families, and this sure as hell does that.”

“He’s asked for proof of life,” Harley said.

I reached into my back pocket and pulled out Aria’s panties from last night and tossed them onto the table. “Give him these.”

Lennon laughed as did the rest of the men even though you could see that they tried not to. “You are a sick fuck.”

“A dead fuck if you aren’t careful,” Harley warned.

“But Vittorio is going to need a couple of days. He had already unloaded some of the product which makes things a little more complicated for him,” Kenneth added.

“Fine by me,” I said. “Tell Vittorio that I brought plenty of panties for his daughter to get wet by my touch.”

14

Aria

It had been three days since arriving, and the walls were beginning to close in on me. It had been snowing every single day, and there was no amount of Scrabble that could pass the time away fast enough. Tennessee and I had played every single board game in the house, cards, and ate more food in the three days than I normally eat in a month. Without a television or a computer, we were completely isolated and reliant on only ourselves for company. It wasn’t exactly awful, but it also wasn’t exactly great either. It didn’t help that with each day that passed, I was getting sicker. I could feel a cold coming on, and regardless of the teas and weird concoctions Tennessee had me drink, I couldn’t fight it off.

“Child! It looks like death just walked into my kitchen.” Tennessee rushed over to me with a towel in his hand as I entered the room. Not even pausing, he directed me to a wooden chair pressed against the center island in the middle of the room and forced me to sit, the wracking expulsions continuing the entire time.

I sat and coughed repeatedly into my hand, feeling as if my spine would break through the skin on my back with the powerful force. The loud bark that escaped from the depths of my core reverberated off the hanging pots and pans in the room. At this moment, my small-framed body could give a fancy opera singer a run for her money when it came to the sheer magnitude of sound.

He looked at me with a stern expression but sympathy in his eyes. “You did this to yourself by arriving here in nothing but a robe and barefoot in the fucking snow and cold. Now look at ya.”

Still coughing, I nodded in agreement, not having the energy to blame Matthew for that fact.

“I just need to release all the pressure in my lungs.” I coughed again, feeling as if my lungs were trying to break free from my sickly body. “I’ll be fine with some cough medicine or something. But I couldn’t find any.”

Tennessee walked to the large pot on the stove that was near boiling over to give it a good stir. “I’ll try to hunt some down. I’m sure there’s got to be something.” He turned and looked at me with a worried expression, but then refocused on his dinner preparations. “All right then, you sit there for a spell and get your breath back. When you can, I’ll get you working on peeling the potatoes to help a guy out.”

Even though I felt much better sitting down, my chest hurt, my throat burned, and I felt dizzy from lack of air. But I didn’t want to make a big deal out of it either. “Okay,” I wheezed.

Tennessee went about his business seasoning, stirring, chopping and creating his culinary masterpieces like always. His hums soon turned into a song that made me smile regardless of how shitty I felt. This man had a way of always entertaining me with his southern, hillbilly charm.

Old Daniel Tucker wuz a mighty man,

He washed his face in a fryin’ pan;

Combed his head wid a wagon wheel

And he died wid de toofache in his heel.

So, git outa de way for old Dan Tucker,

He’s come too late to git his supper.

Supper’s over and breakfast cookin’,

Old Dan Tucker standin’ lookin’.

Here’s old Dan, he comes to town;

He swings the ladies round and round.

He swings one east, he swings one west,

He swings with the one he loves the best.