by ANDREA SMITH
“Don’t worry Aunt Becky,” Gina replied, still smiling, “I’ll have her up to speed in no time.”
“Just behave while you do,” Becky replied, shaking her head. I got the impression that Gina was quite possibly a handful for her aunt.
“First off, we need to get you the proper uniform,” Gina said, reaching up and grabbing a clean apron from a stack of folded ones on a shelf.
“Here, tie this around you because it does get dusty down here amongst other things.”
Gina had an accent which didn’t lend itself to the south at all.
“Have you worked here long?” I asked, putting my head through the apron, and tying it in the back.
“Only since I was about ten years old,” she answered.
“You don’t sound like you’re from around here,” I commented.
“That’s because I’m not,” Gina said, taking a shop rag and wiping off the tool on the machine that lowered the cork into the bottle.
The machine did not look high-tech whatsoever, but then again, this was not a major winery.
“I’m originally from New Jersey,” she explained “Aunt Becky is my mom’s sister. I spent nearly every summer here from the time I was ten years old until I graduated college.”
I was puzzled as to why she was working as a ‘cellar rat’ if she was college educated. Apparently, Gina could read minds.
“No, this is not my real job,” she explained.
“I just came over to help my aunt out with this bumper crop. In return, she is cutting me a sweet deal on fifty cases of wine for our club.”
“You have a club?”
“Sure do,” she said, cracking her chewing gum. “My husband, Ian and I opened a club last year in Atlanta. That’s where we live now. It is a kickin’ place. Hey, you’ll have to come see it sometime, as my guest of course.”
Throughout the rest of the morning, Gina trained me in the art of being a ‘cellar rat’ at a winery. It mostly consisted of tasks such as “hold this” or “clean that.”
She instructed me on how to affix the labels onto the wine bottles since the equipment didn’t do that part of the operation. It was not rocket science, but it was nice having someone like Gina to talk to while doing redundant tasks. Gina was the type of person who had never met a stranger. After spending just a couple of hours around her I felt like I had known her forever. She was direct and unpretentious. I liked the way she rolled. I was sure she was best friend material.
As it turned out, Gina’s Aunt Becky lived about a quarter of a mile down the road from the Sinclair Manor. I told Gina about staying at the manor. I noticed the raised eyebrow and soft little smirk that escaped from her after I mentioned it.
“What?” I asked.
“Nothing,” she replied, getting a shit eating grin on her face.
“How do you like Mr. & Mrs. Sinclair?” she asked innocently enough.
“I’ve not met them,” I replied honestly. “They are traveling in Europe.”
“Oh, that’s right,” she said, “Just like they do every July and August. So then I guess it’s just you and Trey holed up there, huh?”
“No, actually, it’s just me there for now.”
I didn’t want to get into the whole long story about my near drowning in the pool, nightmares, suppressed memories, or the drama at my cottage. I figured I would get there soon enough. I had no clue as to how I could explain the situation to her relative to my relationship, or non-relationship with Trey. I wanted to shift the conversation away without being too obvious.
“So, you know Trey?” I asked.
“Well, yes, I guess,” she answered, snapping her gum. “I mean as well as anyone could know him I suppose. He’s like three or four years older than me, but yeah, I remember summers back when I was in high school. He was away at school most of the time, Oxford I think. He has two older brothers too, but they are like way older. In their late thirties or early forties’ I would guess. They operate wineries out on the west coast. Napa Valley. I think Trey was maybe a surprise when he came along. He’s not like his brothers from what I know. Kind of weird, isn’t it?”
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“Well, the Sinclair’s have all of this money and they set the two older boys up in Napa Valley with vineyards that made them millionaires several times over. Then along came Trey, and with him, it’s like he didn’t want that kind of life. He gets the schooling abroad and all of that, but being a lawyer sure didn’t pay what his brothers are making out in Napa. He simply told his parents he didn’t want it. I think they took offense to it, truthfully. Then all that stuff happened, you know, with his fiancé getting hurt real bad."
Oh, this was getting good, maybe finally I would find out what the big secret was with that.
“What happened?” I asked, trying to sound like I wasn’t all that interested.
“She broke his heart. That’s what happened. I know it had something to do with that horse of his. She wanted him to put the horse down; he wouldn’t do it. I just heard bits and pieces from Aunt Becky, so I don’t know the whole story.”
Oh my God, why would someone want to have Derringer put down? I couldn’t fathom a reason on earth.
“When did all of this happen?” I asked.
“I dunno, three or four years back maybe. Hey, for being his bitch, you sure don’t know much about his deep dark secrets, do you?”
“I beg your pardon, did you say ‘his bitch?” I asked, eyes widening.
“Relax, it’s just a term we use, an east coast term,” she explained taking the water hose that was used to clean the wine bottles before filling, and spraying me with it across my back.
I shrieked in surprise when the water hit.
“Lunch break,” Gina announced.
We headed up and outside into the early afternoon sun.
“Do you want to eat up at the restaurant?” she asked. “We get our lunch for free.”
It had not occurred to me to think about what I would do for lunch when I left the manor this morning. I was so acclimated to just walking back to my cottage and grabbing lunch while working over at the stables. Since lunch was free that solved the problem.
“Sounds good to me, wine bitch,” I said, laughing. Gina actually looked shocked when I said that, and then we both dissolved into giggles. I considered that being around all the fermented wine was somehow having some mood-altering effects on both of us. I was so glad I had someone like Gina to work with.
We headed up to the main visitor’s center where I was earlier with Becky. The restaurant was inside and up on the second level. It was 12:30 p.m. so there was a bit of a crowd. Gina weaved through it to the back of the dining room where a single table was located next to the door of the kitchen. It was designated as ‘Employees Only.” Jenna and Rodney were already sitting there.
“Hey Ty, Hey Gina,” Rodney greeted as we joined them.
Jenna spoke to Gina, and then turned to me as if I was her long lost friend.
“Tylar, how are you?” she asked, her brows creasing as if she was sincerely concerned.
“Jenna,” I replied, “Hello? You’ve seen me since I’ve been out of the hospital; you know that I’m doing okay. It’s just that I’ve been put on ‘light duty’ until I go back to my doctor."
“Oh,” she said, pausing, “I really wasn’t talking about the concussion, I’m sorry,” emphasizing the word, “sorry.” “I was referring to your, uh, well, for lack of a better word, “humiliation” at the race last weekend. I mean you and your Jezebel being scratched like that when you were so close to winning the high stakes. Well, it’s just a shame!” she remarked. “But, I suppose that comes with the territory.”
Gina and I both exchanged glances with one another. Gina didn’t know Jenna; it was obvious though that Gina knew what Jenna was about.
“What do you mean by ‘territory?’ I asked.
“Well, it’s no secret what everyone is saying. I mean, surely, you know?”
&
nbsp; “Know what?” I demanded, my voice taking on an edge.
“You’re Trey’s Twinkie.”
“What the fuck is a Twinkie?” Gina blurted out. (Yeah, I second that question!)
Jenna rolled her eyes, and then acted as if she was reciting the definition from Webster’s Unabridged Dictionary:
“Twinkie: (n) young, innocent beautiful female that has no nutritional value; a snack to tide one over until the real thing comes along.
I wanted to jump over the table, snatch her up and bitch slap her! Wow, one morning with Gina had already changed me into an east coast girl. I didn’t have an opportunity to do anything though because Becky walked up to our table.
“Tylar,” she said, “Ray Gillespie brought this envelope over for you earlier this morning. This was your take from last weekend’s race which you didn’t pick up.”
I had totally forgotten about the $1075 for my race on Jezebel.
“Thanks, Becky,” I said, taking the envelope and smiling.
I deliberately looked over at Jenna.
“Looks like the Twinkie cashed in,” I remarked snidely.
I got up from the table, not wanting to spend one more minute in the company of such a duplicitous bitch.
“I’ll see you back in the cellar, Gina. I have a phone call to make.”
I hurried outside, the tears stinging my eyes. Thank God I had half-way pulled it off in front of Jenna. There was no way that I would ever let her think she had gotten to me.
I held my cell phone up, now outside in the shade of a huge elm calling Trey’s cell phone. Of course, I got his voicemail. I didn’t give a shit. At the moment, he was responsible for my being cast into “Twinkdom,” and by God, he was going to get his fair share of the crap.
It started out well, I calmly listened to his smooth and silky voicemail greeting: ‘You have reached the voice mail box of Trey Sinclair. I am currently unable to take your call.
Please leave your name, number, and a brief message as to the nature of your call, and I will get back to you at my
earliest convenience’. It was followed by a high-pitched beep.
“Trey, it’s me, Tylar. You have my number. My message will be extremely brief; I AM NOT YOUR FUCKING TWINKIE!”
I pushed the end button and walked back to the main building. I needed to use the restroom before heading back over to the winery barn. It was located on the lower level. I was still seething.
(Twinkie, my ass!)
I now regretted not punching Jenna’s smarmy and jealous face. I felt like crying again. Then I settled back on just plain old pissed. These mood swings were getting ridiculous. I felt like I was on an emotional roller coaster lately. What was up with that? It was Trey's fault undoubtedly.
I could hardly wait until he phoned back. Boy was I going to lay into his ass. There was a short wait in the ladies restroom, finally a stall opened up and I was able to get in. I really had to go.
As I lowered my Capri pants and underwear, preparing to sit down on the toilet, I realized that I had gotten my period. Thankfully I located a tampon in my purse. That would explain my emotional roller-coaster. Still, Jenna was a hateful bitch that needed to be put in her place.
I reported back to the winery barn cellar; putting my apron on and starting back to work. Gina came in just a few minutes later.
“Hey,” she said, “Don’t worry about that bitch Jenna. She is just jealous; I mean you know that, right?”
“What could she possibly be jealous about?” I asked, putting a new roll of labels onto the round spindle.
“Uhh, Hello? You landing the second most gorgeous, sexiest man in the western hemisphere?"
“Who’s the first?” I asked.
“Why, my Ian, of course!”
We both laughed.
“No, really, Gina, I said, “It’s not what you think it is with Trey and me. He’s just got this sort of protective 'big brother' kind of thing going on with me, you know?”
“Ah, yeah, sure, I understand,” she replied, smiling. “It’s not all that unusual. I think they call it incest?”
“No, seriously,” I explained. “It is not like that. He feels totally protective of me on account of something that happened here a couple of weeks back. That is all it is. If
you don't believe me, come stay at the manor with me this
week. You will see that I have my own room, and there is nothing going on. I won’t even hear from him on account of some trial that starts tomorrow on some big class action lawsuit. Now is that really how a guy would treat his Twinkie?”
We both started laughing again uncontrollably. The
rest of the afternoon went by quickly. Gina took me up on my offer to stay at the manor. We decided it would be fun to go swimming and maybe even have the servant’s barbeque outside for us. Gina said wealth had its advantages. I was anxious to find out.
Gina and I decided to walk back to the manor after our shift. I let her know that I needed stop off at my cottage to get some more clothes, since it was on the way. We took the trail that started on the east edge of the 'Belle and walked through the woods, coming out at the bank of cottages on the Sinclair estate.
I didn’t go into much detail as to why I was not staying at my cottage, only going so far as to tell her someone had been leaving menacing things both inside and outside of it. I told her my past included some shady characters that were bedfellows of my mom’s.
I fished my key chain out of my purse and opened the door of the cottage. It was stuffy but everything looked to be in its proper place. I located my backpack in the bedroom and emptied the rest of my underwear and sleepwear drawers into it.
I gathered more tops, jeans and capri pants from my closet, as well as shoes. I got my red bathing suit, along with two others that still had the price tags on them and put them into the back pack.
I went into the bathroom and collected the rest of my make-up and toiletries to take with me, including a box of tampons.
Gina was looking through my stack of CD’s in the living room.
“You have some good music here,” she said. “Here, open your backpack, and let’s take these with us.”
I grabbed my MP3 player as well, tucking it into my backpack. We headed out the door. Gina stopped to pick up a piece of paper on the floor a couple of feet inside the living room.
“This must be yours,” she said, handing the folded piece of paper to me.
I opened the folded lined paper and read the carefully printed note:
Sissy,
I miss the sweet taste of your cunt. Where have you been?
Don’t worry, I will find you.
Gina saw the color drain from my face as I felt it.
“Let me see, Ty,” she said.
I handed her the folded piece of paper.
“Shit,” she said, “Is this the reason you don’t stay here?” I nodded.
“Aw jeez, Ty, I’m sorry about nosing into your business like I did this morning, you know, asking about things with you and Trey. I totally understand why you can’t stay here with some maniac stalker fucking with you like this. It’s good of Trey to worry about you and make sure that you’re safe. He’s a good guy, ya know?”
I nodded; still numb from the latest communication from whomever it was that wants to terrorize me. Mom would know his name. But where was Mom?
“Listen,” Gina said as we headed out, walking toward the stables, “I’ll ask Aunt Becky to bring my clothes over. We’ll hang at Sinclair Manor – find something fun to do to take your mind off of the sick asshole that is doing this, okay?”
I nodded again.
Gina got settled in at Sinclair Manor. Thatcher made up another guest room in the “east wing” for her which was not that far away. She did have her own bathroom, but not nearly as accommodating as Trey’s bad-ass bathroom.
I put the rest of my clothes away. Grabbing Trey’s bathrobe, clean underwear, and a pair of silk pj’s, I went over to Trey’s suite to take a showe
r. Everything in his suite was clean and orderly. I was disappointed; I needed my 'Trey fix' and nothing in there provided that now. I showered, brushed my teeth and got dressed in my pj’s. I was totally wiped out.
As I headed back into my room in Trey’s bathrobe, my hair wrapped in a terrycloth turban, I heard my cell phone ringing on the dresser. I picked the phone up checking caller I.D., it read: ‘Trey ;-)
“Hello,” I answered, bracing myself for an ass chewing over the message I had left on his phone earlier.
“Hey there,” smooth and silky said.
“Hey,” I replied, now suddenly shy and composed.
I sat on my bed, knees up under my chin, picking at my toenails wondering what the hell I could say if he mentioned that PMS message. Maybe he wouldn’t ask. Yeah, right.
“Tylar?”
(Here it comes, get ready.)
“Uh huh,” I answered.
“You are many, many things to me. When I think of you, I think of the way you make me laugh, at times. I think of the way you make me crazy at times, too. I think of your gorgeous eyes, and your perky little ponytail; I think of the awesome omelet you made for me on a Sunday morning; and of how you can arouse me with just a glance in my direction. But, God as my witness, I have never, ever thought of you as a Twinkie, okay?”
“Uh huh,” I answered again, the tears coming. “It’s not important, anyway,” I said in a small voice.
“Well, it was important enough that you felt the need to leave a screeching message on my phone, which by the way, I played back on speaker unbeknownst to me until it was too late, declaring that you were not in fact, my Twinkie. What the hell was that about?”
“It’s something that Jenna is spreading around about me. I’m your Twinkie which I guess is some younger, more attractive version of a bimbo.”
“Well, you are neither of those things to me, I can assure you. I’m surprised that you would allow Jenna to get to you like that anyway,” he said.
Oh, God, now he was disappointed in me. Fresh tears sprang to my eyes.
“Tylar? Are you there?”
He heard my sniffle confirming that I was still on the phone.