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“I’m spoiled with my whiskey too,” CC said as she bumped Jen’s shoulder and smiled in her friends’ direction. “They’re the best. They’ve worked hard to build Tchin Tchin, and they deserve to make back everything they’ve put into it.” She swung her gaze back to the Dotsons. “And I don’t just mean the dollars. A lot of love went into restoring and outfitting this place.” She tipped her head toward the glass wall that ran the length of the tasting room, stacks of barrels behind it.
“And that’s exactly why we’re interested,” Bo said. “We’ve been searching for a top-shelf whiskey to add to our collection. We believe Tchin Tchin is it.” He shifted his earnest gaze to Jen and Etienne. “We’ll honor what you’ve built here.”
“You’ve been acquiring a lot of brands lately,” CC said.
Bo shot Al a fond smile. “Because we’ve got a great closer.”
“Our customers expect and deserve the best,” Robert added. “We’re doing everything we can to bring it to them.”
“Tchin Tchin too,” Bo said. “By year-end, if you can make it happen. I know Al can on our end.”
Jen nodded. “We have confidence CC can make it happen too.”
“Terrific!” Bo clapped, his grin wide. “How about a toast?”
Etienne poured a round of shots, and as their clients clinked their glasses together, Al raised hers to CC. If CC had thought her seatmate from the weekend, her date for Friday night, had vanished beneath the designer threads, the sexy confidence in her I look forward to working with you made clear two things: that woman hadn’t gone anywhere, and this deal was about to get way more complicated.
Chapter Four
CC had intended to swing by home and change into something more Friday-night-out, but by the time she left her firm’s Benson Tower office, she had less than fifteen minutes to get to Dram in the Bywater. She pushed through the door of the packed gastropub with less than a minute to spare. She glanced around the immediate vicinity for Al. Not seeing her, CC breathed a sigh of relief. She hated being late. She hung her trench coat on one of the hooks by the door, chuckling at the seasonal-yet-not-for-New-Orleans snowflakes dangling from the rafters, then navigated around the patrons at the host stand and through the pub tables in the center of the dining area.
Reaching the bar was like running a gauntlet, but at least everyone she accidentally bumped into was kind, some even shooting her interested looks. If Tchin Tchin was her favorite distillery in town, Dram was her favorite restaurant. Expressly queer-friendly, the Bywater sensation was full of people like her in a town—hell, country—where it felt like precious few places were still safe. But at Dram, the word Haven was etched in copper in the multicolored stained glass above the door, and that was what it had always felt like to CC. No shame or hiding here, just loud and proud queer folk living their best lives.
The award-winning food and drinks were the cherry on top.
As she neared the bar, CC kept her eyes peeled for Al. Still not seeing her, she diverted to the relatively quiet end of the bar where friends and family stools were tucked near the bar flip. She snagged the one Colby’s polka-dot raincoat was draped over and dragged it out of the way of the bar mat where Tony, the head bartender and part owner of Dram, set two drinks for pickup.
He took one look at her and whistled low. “That kind of week?”
She laid her phone on the bar, then gathered up her massive halo of humidity curls into a topknot. “You have no idea.”
“You interested in the specials?” He swiped his own black curls off his forehead, his mohawk similarly a humidity-amped riot. “Fireside Rye is back.”
She loved Tony’s spicy winter concoction, but she needed something stronger tonight. “Vieux Carré.”
“Oof, liquor in a water glass. It really has been a week.” Tony called for the rolling ladder, then scaled to the top-shelf whiskeys for the Tchin Tchin he knew she preferred.
CC—and at least half the bar—admired Tony’s trim hipster body poured into dark jeans, a tight vest, and a light blue dress shirt. While she had no sexual interest in Tony, she could appreciate a fine ass on anyone. And Tony’s was one of the finest.
“Stop staring.”
CC glanced to the side and found her sister staring too. “You first.”
Colby’s grin was positively wicked as she pecked CC’s cheek. “I don’t think I’ve seen you since Wednesday morning. I heard you come and go on your side of the house, and I heard that godforsaken bullet blender you think makes actual breakfast, but otherwise you’ve been Casper.” They shared a shotgun double a few blocks from Dram. Each had their own space, but they still existed under one roof and shared a large backyard and pool, a major selling point for two women who’d grown up with chilly summers and zero humidity.
“I’ve been negotiating a letter of intent for a client.”
Colby unbuttoned her chef’s coat, the polka dots of her dress underneath matching her coat... and her Crocs. “Did you get it signed?” she asked as she climbed onto the stool beside her.
“Clients are signing over dinner tonight.” Three pages of blood, sweat, and tears. None of the last, really, but plenty of paper cuts and a lot of mental sweat. Al had been a tough negotiator. Tough, but fair. She’d reined in Dotson the Younger’s nonmarket terms multiple times. Something about Robert bothered CC—she didn’t trust him—but his father seemed genuine. Bo seemed to understand the prize he was getting and wanted to do right by Jen and Etienne. So did CC, which was why she’d been working longer hours than usual.
Tony returned with her drink, plus shots for Colby and himself. A quick toast, then CC took a healthy sip of the spicy smooth cocktail with its herbal twist. She never ordered these outside of New Orleans; they’d never be as good. The French Quarter original went a long way to easing CC down from the stressful work week.
“When’s the deal close?” Colby asked.
“December 29,” she said, wincing internally.
Colby winced right out in the open. Year-end deals were a fact of life for transactional attorneys. In her fifteen-plus years of practice, CC could count on one hand her deal-free Decembers. Colby had lived through the last five with her. “Why do you do this again?” her sister asked.
