Loving Mr. Cane (Cane 3)

I looked at Derek, who only came because he didn’t want Mindy coming along with a man like Buck in the room, and also because Kandy asked him to. I knew he wouldn’t have come otherwise. He gave me a slight nod, and I looked forward.

Buck sat up higher in his chair with a frown. “What the hell is this?” he snapped.

“This? Oh, just leverage.” I folded my arms, and Mindy took out her cellphone, setting up the recorder. When she hit play, she called for Joey.

“Let’s get straight to the point. Joey Moretti, may I ask if you have any connections or ties to Buck Hunter?”

“None at all,” Joey said. “I just remember him as the man who terrorized my friend’s family.”

“Right. So, if I were to ask you if Buck Hunter ever tasted your father’s wine, what would you say?”

“He has tasted it, but he told me once before that he hated wine.” Joey shrugged. “He also told me that my wine would never be on a shelf.”

Buck grumbled something.

“Interesting. So you remember when you sat down with Quinton Cane to go over business plans, correct?”

“I would never forget it.” Joey’s eyes lit up, and he looked from me to Mindy. “He had so much hope for our wine. I don’t think anyone ever believed in us as much as Cane.”

“That’s amazing. Okay. One more question: when Buck Hunter threatened Cane, and told him to use the word Tempt because he was tempted to hit him, would you consider that a solid form of an idea?”

“No, I wouldn’t. For one, Mr. Hunter was drunk, and Cane was a little stoned, but he always got that way when he needed to think. Mr. Hunter didn’t even know what he was saying, and it surprises me that he even remembers that conversation. Not only that, but I remember that night very clearly, and I remember Mr. Hunter saying that he should call it ‘Tempted,’ but when Mr. Hunter went back inside, Cane said ‘Tempt’ sounds better.” Joey looked at me, and my eyes expanded. “You were so distraught that day, and I think you smoked like three more joints after his threat, so you probably don’t remember which word it was the man used. I’m sorry that for all these years you thought he’d come up with the real word, but he didn’t. I remember because I have it here.” Joey dug into his back pocket and handed me a sheet of paper. It was an old paper, ripped and wrinkled around the edges.

I opened it and read over it, but it was basically scribble. A lot of numbers and descriptions of wine. Then there was a sentence at the bottom:

Tempted is okay, but too long for a label. Tempt sounds way more catchy. Let’s go with that. Tell your dad.

This was my handwriting. I wrote this the same night of the threat. “Holy shit. Yeah, I remember now. It wasn’t in my notes, but I gave it to you. I forgot all about that.”

Joey smiled. “This was all your idea, Cane. All of it. All I did was help my father make the wine, but you did everything else.” Joey focused on Mindy. “And other than that one threat that I would say inspired Cane, Mr. Hunter really didn’t have shit to do with creating Tempt.”

Mindy smiled and turned off the recorder. “Thank you so much, Joey.”

“Of course.”

We all turned to look at Buck and Miss Walker. Miss Walker looked shocked, and I’m betting she was starting to regret her involvement in this whole affair.

“You were drunk?” she hissed at him. “You didn’t mention that you were under the influence, or that they had notes, or your crudeness toward the winemaker.”

“Does it really fucking matter?” Buck stood and grimaced at all of us. “That boy owes me his life! I sacrificed so much for him! He owes me!”

I stood up. “No, see, I think you have that twisted. I’m the one who sacrificed everything trying to save my family from your sorry ass. I took care of Mama and Lora, not you. I’m the one who got Mama clean after you fucked her up, not once, not twice, but repeatedly! So this is what’s going to happen.” I walked around the desk, snatching up the envelope. “There is eight grand in this envelope. You’re gonna take this and your lawyer with you when you walk out of this office, and you aren’t going to look back, because if you look back, that cop over there is going drag you back to Atlanta to arrest you and toss your ass in jail again for breaking your restraining order, and he’s not afraid to put a word in with a judge to make sure your ass is in jail for another fifteen to twenty years.” I shoved the envelope into his chest while he breathed hard through his nose, staring me in the eyes.