Author's Note: I want to take the chance to thank those of you who have started reading this work, for those of you who don't know this is the prequel to "A Taste of Heaven in Hell", so you're going to see a lot of familiar faces. Second this work is based on William and Ronald's relationship. I hope you enjoy it and don't worry it's going to pick up pace soon enough.

I don't own Kuroshitsuji.

Chapter 3: Just a Hop over the "Pond"

The air was thick and heavy in comparison to the parched ground under foot. The sun was high in the sky and so violently bright that any slick surface reflec ted pure white light. It was unnerving and nearly blinding for a person who wasn't used to the harsh conditions of the vineyard, but for those who were picking the grapes, it was in their opinion, a good day. Well, weather wise that is, in fact it was such a good day in the Hudson Valley that there was one person who simply couldn't wait to escape the clutches of his father and venture into the beauty of the outdoors, Ronald. His skin was sticky and his green eyes were shielded from the sun with a pair of black sunglasses, baseball cap which had been navy blue at one point and was now caked with dirt rested on his head. Jeans which had been new and stiff were now soft and showed a great deal of wear, the knees had been blown from the number of times the young man had knelt on the earth to examine the vines. Tanned small hands came to an abrupt stop and he sat on his heels for a moment. He groaned with irritation as he tipped his head back and closed his eyes. "Why can't my old man do this?" asked Ronald with irritation.

Eric's head popped over the vine and he stated, "Because he's busy checking the wine, he mentioned something about racking it again." Ronald's green eyes widened as he took his baseball cap off and ran his hand through his oily hair in frustration. "Again? We've racked our wine more than anyone else in the area, what difference does it make?" he grumbled as he looked at the sight around him. Any mere passerby would consider the vineyard beautiful but in Ronald's eyes it was prison, the reason he had run upstate was to avoid his mother, who was once again shopping for a new husband. The current model's name was Trevor, he was dull and worked as a lawyer, but he met her standards, rich and handsome, to hell with everything else. "You know, it's not that bad, at least you can still live with your Pops, mine wants nothing to do with me," commented Eric casually as he plucked a grape and examined it in the sunlight. Ronald glared daggers at the man, Eric's father was a farm tenant who grew grapes for fun and was generally a nice man, strict but nice.

His father on the other hand, that was a very different story, Harold Knox had been a partner of a law firm in Manhattan, he was one of the best. The man could literally settle a case which happened over a week in 24 hours and have a settlement that no one else in the field could concoct. It was impressive how the man worked and managed to do so well. Yet, the success wasn't what bugged the blond, it was the fact that his father gave it all up and purchased the vineyard in a town that no one had ever heard of. That irked him, the man was always preaching to Ronald to finish his degree and yet his father wasn't using his, he was pretending to be a vintner.

"Have you ever thought about going back to college, I mean you did get into RIT on scholarship and you were invited to Madison to teach programming," commented Eric as he looked at the man before him. Ronald sighed, that was another touchy subject, only Eric knew why he had been kicked out of college in the first time. A grin curved Ronald's lips as he remembered the trouble he caused when he hacked the data base and took revenge on a professor who attempted to steal his idea. Ronald had been working on a new security encryption that not even the FBI would know how to crack. He prided himself on the complex algorithm he had crafted with care, only for his professor to claim it as his. Naturally Ronald took revenge, and by revenge he meant hacking the system and messing with not only the man's classes but even his status as a professor and changing students grades. Usually he would have been put in prison but since he had put everything back after the professor had seen it, and destroyed any and all evidence linking him to the incident there was no hard proof connecting him to it. The most the college could do was expel him. Computers were easy, it was his father that was a challenge. "Nah, the bureaucracy of Academia and I just don't mix," he replied with a smirk.

Eric chuckled and shook his head, "You know you can be one vindictive son of a bitch, honestly," he commented. Ronald laughed loudly as he rose from the ground and dusted himself, he was covered in dirt and sweat, his skin felt sticky and he couldn't wait to shower. He looked at his wrist watch and sighed, "Finally lunch," he stated as he stretched his tight legs and then stretched his arms over his head. His back cracked as he did so and he grinned as he slipped off his baseball cap and shades. The sun was bright but honestly it felt nice to have the hat gone as he slipped away from the vineyard and into the air conditioned quarters of the house. Eric looked at Ronald nervously as he slipped into the house, clearly part of Eric was still terrified of Ronald's old man. "Chill, he's not going to come and kill you for stepping into the house," he commented.

Eric nervously looked around the corner and bit the inside of his cheek, "I don't believe you," he whispered as he slinked into the house and closed the door so lightly that it was nearly impossible to hear it click closed. "Oh come on he's a man not a shark," commented Ronald as he opened the white fridge and pulled out a bottle of beer. He twisted the cap off with ease and smiled as he tipped it to his lips. "With your father, he's more like a Pitbull, a really angry one," Eric commented as he looked at the hallway nervously. Ronald shook his head as he took another sip of the beer, he loved the taste of hops on his tongue, he didn't mind wine but when it came down to it a beer after working in the vineyards sounded far more attractive.

"Ronald! That better not be a beer I hear!" called a very familiar gruff voice. Eric stiffened instinctively, Ronald sighed and looked at the bottle in his hands, honestly he was beginning to wonder if the man had supersonic hearing or something along those lines. "So what? I'm done in the vineyard, for now!" he shouted. There was a series of heavy footfalls as the man practically sprinted down the steps. The man rounded the corner, his green eyes were narrowed and his brown hair was a mess, currently the man was a concoction of very angry and exhausted, which never boded well for Ronald. He looked at the man as he snatched the bottle out of his hands and walked over to the sink before promptly pouring it out. The young man's mouth fell agape as he watched his father turn around and glare at him. "No drinking until all the work is done, I don't need to deal with a hospital bill or your mother breathing down my neck for that matter thanks to your stupidity," he hissed. Harold was red in the face and looked even more irritated than usual, which meant one of two things, his mother had called to gloat or the debt collectors called again.

After the rough winter and then a drought that summer, he was struggling to start a vineyard that would be able to stand on it's own and not fall. His father had been trying for years to successfully craft the perfect Chardonnay, his logic was if they could do that in Napa, he could do it in the Hudson Valley, of course that was more dreaming than it was actually possible. Harold glared at his son and barked, "Outside now, be in the ring in ten." Ronald sighed, that meant today was unfortunately both. He walked out of the kitchen and began to stretch his sore limbs. The dirt beneath his shoes had dried out a great deal and was more dust than it was soil, he hummed with irritation as he continued down the all too familiar path. The smell of grapes hung in the air and the sun warmed his skin. "Too bad I can't enjoy this forever," he commented as he stood before a large makeshift boxing ring. The floor was covered in weathered plywood, the ropes were the largest gage nylon rope possible and the posts leaned over slightly from the number of times they had been slammed into.

Ronald slipped out of his long sleeve shirt and draped it over his arm before going to open a large wooden chest, which held his gloves and emergency ice packs. Harold Knox had a temper, it wasn't a mystery or secret that the vineyard owner had one. When Ronald was ten he started boxing lessons with professionals, courtesy of his mother, now he would spar with his irritated father who happened to have won several events in college. Ronald pulled out a roll of white tape and began to taping his hands gingerly, he honestly wasn't in the mood to break them. Since his father was so influential Ronald spent most of his time trying to keep up, and later that yeah he was Champion of the Middleweight Division of Collegiate Boxing, not that it really mattered in the eyes of Harold Knox. Ronald finished taping one of his hands and moved to the other, "Ronny, I got your contacts!" called Eric as he walked over to the blonde. Ronald looked over and noticed his friend had his glasses case as well. "Thanks," he said curtly as he turned his attention to the familiar blue and white case. He spun the caps off with ease and passed his glasses to Eric. "You know, you don't have to ruffle his hackles, he has a nasty bite. Can't you just do as you're asked?" he asked after a moment.

The blonde finished putting the lenses in and laughed before he proceeded to taping his other hand, "Nope, this is more fun," he replied simply before clipping the end of the white roll with a pair of silver scissors and holding his hands out for Eric to check his work. Erics hands ran over the tape and he nodded before clapping his hands and pulling out the gloves from the box. The supple brown leather had seen better days, and Ronald knew it, however there was still enough padding in them to go a few more rounds. Eric held the gloves open for the slender hands of the young man, "You're a serious masochist you know that?" commented Eric as he taped the glove on and then presented the other one.

Ronald chuckled as he watched Eric's fingers fasten the velcro on the other glove. "As if you wouldn't do it too," he commented before clapping his gloves together and slipping between the ropes and into the ring. On the other side he could see Harold slipping into his own gloves, his face was still read and from what Ronald could tell he was in for it, again. Harold slid into the ring and began to bounce on the balls of his feet, his arms swung as he began to loosen up. His green eyes were locked on Ronald, "Start!" shouted Eric and with little warning Harold was across the ring and attempting to deliver a swift jab, thankfully Ronald doged it and was lining up for a right uppercut, only for Harold to slam abdomen with a forceful punch. Ronald groaned as he staggered backward, "Which one where you with today?" Harold asked, his tone was harsh as he lined up for another combination, sadly Ronald missed the right hook at the end and felt it as his father crack him in the jaw.

"Why?" asked Ronald as he stepped back and moved his mouth in an attempt to see if it was broken. Only to decided that it was simply going to swell and bruise by the end of the day. "You can't even remember her name," exclaimed Harold as he drew in again and began a merciless assault of jabs, hooks and a few upper cuts. The slender blonde managed to block a few of them, but sadly he wasn't as motivated as his father. "Don't you get tired of sleeping around and being a bum?" Harold asked as he ducked one of Ronald's swings and hit the young man in the chest. Ronald doubled over and moaned, that punch had way more force than he was accustomed to. "Hand up Ronny!" cried Eric as he held his hands up in an attempt to remind the blonde of what to do. "Shove it Eric!" shouted the blonde as he blocked several blows and replied angrily, "This is your vineyard! I just work here! If I had more to do with it than simply pick grapes we probably wouldn't be in trouble!"

The blows ceased as Harold stared at his son, he was beyond angry, he was furious. Ronald braced himself for a punch, which never came, he simply watched Harold retreate and lean against the ropes. "I'm not the one who got his ass kicked out of school and chases tail every night," he replied between pants. Ronald watched his father slowly level out and was about to say something else when a rusted, dented, and near dead Volkswagen Bug with a flat front tire stopped before the ring. Eric, Harold and Ronald all looked at the car in shock. "What the?" asked Eric as he opened the chest and cracked an ice pack for Ronald's face. "Hi!" shouted an enthusiastic young woman. She slipped out of the car and waved broadly, Ronald's eyes widened as he gaped at her, she was wearing a pair of very short short shorts, cowboy boots, sunglasses and a loose work shirt. She looked as though she had been kissed by the sun and was beaming with delight.

\"Who the hell is that?" asked Ronald as he looked at Eric. The larger man shrugged and shook his head. "You are?" asked Harold as he slipped his hands out of the gloves and tossed them aside. "Liz!" she shouted, "Lizzy Milford! The intern you hired!" she replied energetically. Harold looked at her skeptically and commented, "You have a flat." She looked down at the incriminating tire and kicked it before replying, "Yeah that happened somewhere in PA, I thought it would be a problem but turns out you only need three tires," she commented proudly. The three men stared at her as though she had lost her mind, Ronald was about to say something when he noticed an all too familiar smile on his father's face. A smile which only meant misery for him later. "I see, Ronald meet your new intern," he said with a grin before he began walking away, untapping his hands as he went.

It took all of five seconds for him to register what had happened. Ronald groaned before sliding his gloves off, which had proven to be quite the challenge since he was preoccupied with holding ice to his cheek while doing so. Liz was a step away and looked at him critically, "Ouch, that must have hurt," she commented as her large eyes locked on his face. Ronald smiled and replied, "Not really. The world breaks everyone and afterward many are stronger in the broken places." Eric rolled his eyes and Ronald flashed a killer smile. Liz hummed and smiled smugly before saying, "Oh Ernest Hemingway from For Whom the Bell Tolls! To be honest you didn't look like the type." There was silence as she tilted her head to the side and smiled, it was official this woman was going to drive him nuts.

Ronald sighed before jumping out of the ring and standing before her, "Here I'll show you around," he said dimly, now he knew why his father was grinning, he had the joy of dealing with the new intern. As he walked he pointed out various things and continued to explain some of the history of the vineyard, none of it he was actually interested in. He was about to show her into the cellar when he noticed his father was looking at the wine again, "It's still not clear enough, we're going to rack it again," he commanded as he walked out, he was still holding the wine hydrometer in his hand. The long glass tube sparkled in the light as he marched out of the building. "That's the fifth time, no one racks wine that many times in the Hudson Valley," commented Ronald in frustration. Once again his father was being difficult. Liz looked ready to jump the poor men working on racking the barrels and it was then that Ronald wished he hadn't attempted to drink that beer earlier, it probably would have come in handy.

~vVv~

William sighed as he looked at the man who was now sitting at the bar, "Alois, who is that?" he asked as he looked at the man who was clearly balding, he was rather heavy and stout, his eyes were locked on the glass as he haphazardly swirled burgundy in a glass, the sloshing made William nauseous as he watched the man bruise the wine and listened to the foot of the glass scrape against the beautiful mahogany counter. "That? He's the press," replied Alois simply. William's eyes widened in shock, "No, No, No, you promised me reporters," he stated as he glared at the small blonde.

Alois sighed as he held out a magazine, which the man snatched from his hand almost immediately. His eyes were narrowed as he flicked through it, "His name is Howard, Howard Tibs. Look you're even isn't prime time news, so you'll just have to settle," he stated. William's eyes moved over the pages quickly as he scanned the by-lines. "Alois, I don't see his name even present," he said quickly as he searched for a form of proof that the man had actually written an article. Alois sighed and looked over William's shoulder, "He usually works as a ghost, but he's a reputable one, he's even done pieces for Time," he stated. William blanched and looked at the young man, "Alois these are all articles about hair care products in Cosmopolitan," he hissed, "This is a serious matter not some dress up party. Besides his name isn't even on the by-line!" He could feel a thundering migraine coming on, things weren't going so well for him and he knew it. "You asked for a journalist I found you one, and now you complain," Alois chided as he put his hands on his hips, his blue eyes narrowed as he glared at William darkly, "Honestly I'm not a miracle worker, he's all I could find!"

William groaned and began to grind his teeth, it was a habit of his he used to keep himself from snapping at everyone, especially customers, not that he had seen one recently. He delicately rubbed his temples, Alois was going to kill him one of these days, he knew it. The blonde was perusing an article on dating tips for men and he groaned inwardly as he turned the page and began reading an article titled, "Must Haves for Summer!" In a flash William had snatched the magazine from the young man's hands and rolled it up, "Hey, I was reading that!" he shouted angrily. William's green eyes narrowed dangerously as he jabbed the paper at the car service owner, "If this goes South, it's your head," he stated darkly as he turned on his heel and sauntered over to the bar. He looked upon the man and smiled graciously, even though he couldn't stand how the man sat back on the stool and knocked the glass of delicate burgundy back as though it were whisky and slammed the glass on the bar. He cringed at the sound of the foot of the glass hitting the wood and wondered if the man had managed to fracture the stem of the glass after his violent display.

The man reached for the bottle once more only for William to snatch it away and hold it in his hands once again, he relished the comforting feeling of having his fingers wrapped around the smooth glass bottle. His fingers swept over it affectionately before he gently tipped it and poured the man another sample. "Allow me," he said eloquently as he watched the beautiful ruby red liquid hit the bottom of the glass and then lifted the nozzle of the bottle. "Thanks, this is a nice place, and the wine's good," he commented as he lifted the glass in appreciation and brought it to his thick lips.

William cringed at the word good being used to describe a superior bottle of Burgundy from Bordeaux that had been produced before World War II. Unlike most bottles that one had truly been only Burgundy and nothing else, which couldn't be said for every bottle from that era since it wasn't uncommon for middlemen to mix wines together and sell them under their own labels. He was already worrying about how he would stage such an event and this man was only making it seem even more impossible than he had thought previously. He was hoping for a reporter from a wine journal, instead he got a ghost writer who used the word "good" to describe one of the high brow bottles in his shop. "I'm glad you like it, what has Alois told you about my little plan?" asked William courteously as he attempted to keep himself from wrenching violently because of the man's horrible manners. "No, not really, although he did mention that you were a bit insane," he commented. William grit his teeth as he made a mental note to berate the blonde later.

"Yes well I suppose now is as good a time as any to explain my plans," he said swiftly as he perched on a stool across from the reporter. Alois had joined them at the counter and was attempting to pour himself a glass of burgundy. William ignored him in favor of remaining on topic, "I am going to America, specifically New York to see if I can find some palatable wines for a little competition I am holding. I will be holding a blind tasting to prove that New York wines are as good as the French," he said simply. There was silence in the shop as two sets of eyes stared at him as though he were insane, part of William began to wonder if he really was making the right decision, only to remember the smile on Claude's face when he said New York. Tibs looked as though he were going to have a heart attack, "That hasn't been done since," he paused as he began to search his mind for the date. William sighed as he leaned against the bar, "1976 at an event called the Judgment of Paris. I know hosted by Steven Spurrier, he only used Californian Wines, I'm out to prove that good wine can come from anywhere," he commented hastily. Certainly the idea had been done before, however not with New York wines, which was why it was so much riskier.

"I see, perhaps this story is worth writing," commented Tibs as he polished off the glass of burgundy with an audible slurp, making William cringe once more, before leaving the shop. He watched the reporter leave and groaned, "This is going to be a disaster," before hanging his head. If this failed he would lose any and all credibility he had as well as a change to redeem himself for previous blunders. "I would ask if you would like me to keep an eye out for your regulars, but you and I both know you don't have any," Alois stated as he took another sip of the burgundy. William growled before shooting a heated glare at Alois, he had almost forgotten about his existence, almost. "Yes well I would still like to come back to my shop with all it's merchandise in the bottles and not in your gullet thank you," he sneered. Alois leaned back with his arms crossed and grinned innocently, "Please, as much as I enjoy drinking wine, I have to say a cocktail is better. Look I'll keep an eye on your shop, just get your wine," he stated.

The air in the room changed as William came to the realization that he was about to embark on the most important journey of his life to save his shop and perhaps even a state. "Alois, what if I don't find it," William whispered after a moment, he was gambling it all for the sake of a few impossible bottles. There was stillness in the room, he was to fly out in a few hours time, he had packed his bags and was getting ready to do what he had to. Tari hadn't given him much time and if he didn't pull this off he was finished. Several days had past since he had met the agreement with Tari, it had been a rough few days of trying to put it all together. "Trust me Will, you will. Not everything is as it seems," commented Alois, "Besides you get to see gorgeous American Country Boys! You have to admit they make you drool a little." William scoffed and shook his head, a smile forming on his lips from the boisterous blonde, "Alois you say the same thing about the French."

The blonde smirked as he tipped the glass and replied, "Yes but there boys will have a tan and muscles from working in the fields, far better than those who smell of cigarettes and are as skinny as rails, don't you think?" William groaned as he poured himself a glass of the burgundy and looked at the clock, soon enough he would be flying over the ocean to a place where he doubted they even knew what a decent bottle of wine looked like, let alone taste like. He swirled the wine in his mouth and savored the taste of the full bodied burgandy before allowing it to slide down his throat. His mind wandered freely before stumbling on the memory of Claude stopping in two nights ago.

It had been raining when he had appeared, the young chef smelt of duck and Claude cold tell the young man was still trying to perfect that recipe. He was standing with a knife bag in hand and smiling, William had just finished brewing a pot of tea and was quick to offering the shivering chef a cup, he couldn't let the young man freeze. "I have the money, I ended up selling some stocks to get it, but I think the investment is worth it," he commented as he reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a folded sheet, it was a rather large check for a massive sum. William's eyes widened as he stared at the number of zeros at the end of it. "You don't expect me to use all of this do you?" he asked. Claude took a seat on one of the stools, his hair was dripping down his face and there was water on his glasses. Slender fingers slipped around the frames and removed them from his nose. "To be honest I don't think it will be enough personally," he commented as he pulled out a blue handkerchief and wipes his glasses with it. William was gaping at the man as he folded the check up neatly and slipped it into his pocket, "I think it will be plenty," he commented firmly as he poured Claude a steaming cup of Earl Gray and placed it before the man who looked more like a drenched rat.

The young chef nodded his thanks as he greedily wrapped his hands around it, soaking up all the warmth he could from it. Claude sighed as he took a sip, William was quiet as he waited for the chef to continue, unlike most people Claude tended to deliver information in segments which was welcoming in comparison to Alois who didn't say a word half the time, or delivered it all at once. Claude tentatively placed the cup on the saucer and reached into his pocket, "Okay here is part two," he stated as he pulled out a small mobile. "This is on a Virizon plan, I will cover it. It's for you to use if you get stuck somewhere, need to talk to me and of course to deal with my father, his address is in it as well as all his numbers," he commented as he placed the phone before William. It was a small sliver device which made him stare, he hadn't seen anything that small or sleek before. "It amazes me how small these things get, I'm still running around with my Nokia," he commented.

Claude snorted before taking another sip of tea. At that point the chef said no more, he wasn't interested in talking again, in fact all he did was finish his tea and leave afterward, "Good luck," he called before slipping out of the shop.

William was pulled from his dream when a chauffeur slipped into his shop, clearly one of Claude's many interventions, "I have your luggage already," he stated. William sighed as he slipped off the stool and went out the door, at least he was going to be traveling in style. Alois stood outside the shop and waved like a mad man as he clutched the key ring, apparently William had handed it to the blonde at some point, even if he couldn't remember when personally. He returned a smile and slipped into the back of the car, as always the chauffer closed the door and took off to the airport. William's green eyes fell on the streets as they seemed to roll by his window leisurely, he knew he was going to be landing at JFK International soon enough. So he decided to give his hometown one last look, the light always seemed a light rose from where he sat, that was until one participated in Parisian life and learned that the average Parisian wasn't a fan of the English. He heaved a sigh before closing his eyes and looking away from the streets of his home knowing full well that he would be back by the end of the month with ideally two cases of wine, one red and one white.

~~vVv~~

The day had stretched on and on, finally Ronald had enough as he slipped into a pair of nice jeans and put in his contacts, he was tired of being around the vineyard, as well as the winery, and was dying to get out. He pulled on a pair of sneakers, ran a comb through his hair and put on a tight tee shirt. He looked at himself in the mirror and smiled, "Now then, let's show her the definition of a good night," he commented as he slipped out of his room. He looked around the beautiful dark wooden walls and sighed, so many years the house had stood and only now did it look like it would fall. Ronald shook his head as he turned the corner and dashed down the stairs, it had stood proudly on the top of a knoll in the Hudson Valley for over a century and now it was going to fall to dust. He shook his head as he slipped out of the house and stood before Eric who was grinning, he was wearing a pair of flattering leather pants and a ripped tee, two things which Harold would have gone lateral about.

"Where is she?" asked Ronald curiously as he looked around, he tossed the keys to the rather rusted out truck in the air and listened to them jingle before hitting his hand. Eric pointed to a beautiful blonde woman, she was wearing a pair of skin tight skinny jeans, her boots and a beautiful white top that was made of linen and had several ruffles in it. "Liz," said Ronald with a boyish grin as he walked over. She chuckled and swept a lock of her golden mane out of her eyes before saying, "Lizzy, I prefer Lizzy." Ronald nodded before looking at Eric, the man was smiling broadly, and clearly he understood what Ronald had in mind. "Well then Lizzy, I'm going to show you to our little watering hole, unlike most places it has more wine than it does beer," he commented as he walked toward the truck, "and there we are going to make a little money tonight," he commented. Lizzy rounded about quickly and looked at Eric in confusion, "Don't worry it's not what you think, just come on," he said simply.

Lizzy slipped into the forest green pick up with the name of the winery on the side of it, complete with crest. He hummed as he put the key in the ignition and listened to the truck roar to life. "Where are we going?" she asked curiously as she watched him put the truck in gear and drive down the long driveway. "I told you, to the local Watering Hole," he replied simply as he continued to drive she stared at his face for a while, so long that he honestly swore that she would burn a hole through it. "What's up? Something on my face?" he asked, part of him was still concerned at he was sporting the bruise his father had given him. She chuckled and shook her head, "No, it's more like what's missing, your glasses, you're not wearing them," she commented. He blushed before coughing, "Yes, well, thanks," he stumbled.

She was smiling as he drove back into civilization; the road was lined with cars as he continued down the streets. "Town?" she asked curiously. Eric hummed as Ronald pulled into a spot and pointed at the tavern, "See The Watering Hole," he said simply. The owner had a sense of humor and decided to literally name his tavern The Watering Hole. It was great for business and had all the latest wines which were being turned out of small wineries. He locked the truck before slipping his hands into his pockets, "Come on Eric, let's go make some cash," he said simply as he wandered across the street. His head was held high and he walked as though he owned the place. Truth be told because of the winery's reputation the town was reliant on it for a bulk of it's tourism, so it was no surprise when Ronald walked into a store and everyone knew him by name. Lizzy trotted to keep up with his long strides as he opened the door. The smell of wine caressed his nose and he smiled as he listened to the familiar snap of a pool cue slamming into the cue ball and the break of the balls as they rolled across the table. The tavern was dimly lit with high ceilings and the oak bar had been polished to perfection.

He walked over to the bar and took a seat on one of the stools before it, standing behind the counter was a rather busty bartender, she had full breasts, a slim waist and legs that looked like they could go for miles. The only turn off was he mouth, "Hey Ron, having problems with that big old dangling finger again?" she asked. Ronald sighed as Eric chuckled and sat down, he liked to keep things fresh, and honestly wasn't relationship material, he had tried for years but he found women generally too complicated and emotional, they did however make wonderful pillows at night. Lizzy took a seat between Ronald and Eric. "Hey Sam, I'm a little short on cash," he commented. She leaned against the counter and tilted her head to the side, he long black hair fell down her shoulder as she did so and those cool silver eyes stared right through him, she had slightly red skin, she was half Native American, and honestly her temper showed it. "Oh and what do you want me to do about that?" she asked a smirk on her lips.

Ronald looked over at Eric who was grinning, "Go pick three bottles and put them in bags," said Eric. Sam looked over at him skeptically, "You're going to do this or him?" she asked as she jabbed her thumb at Eric. Ronald chuckled and looked at the tall blonde who was glaring at her. While he did have a good palate he knew Eric couldn't tell the difference between a Chardonnay and Pointe Noire, he was hopeless. "No, I will," said Ronald simply as he looked at his hands and noticed the new calluses on his fingers from the shovels and rakes. Sam straightened up, "Alright then, I'll pick them," she commented before vanishing. Eric stood up and whistled loudly, "Ladies and Gentlemen I have a little challenge, this spoiled prince turned riff raff, who grew up in Brooklyn of all places is going to guess the wine in each of these three bottles," he said grandly calling everyone's attention to him, "which our lovely bartender has selected for us." Sam winked as a man whistled loudly and walked off.

"Hold on, it don't take a rocket scientist to determine the difference between a Sauvignon Blanc and a merlot," called a heavy set man from the corner who was nursing a glass of whiskey. Eric grinned as though he had just snagged a major catch, "No, but can he tell you the vintage?" he asked with a grin. There was a collective gasp as the occupants of the tavern, "Fine 10, but he's got to get the location and if I win I get to dance with her," he said gruffly as he pointed to Lizzy. Her eyes bugged out as she looked over at the boys and she whispered, "I want 10%" Ronald looked at Eric and chuckled, "$10? That's it, hell it's not even worth the time," called Eric. The elderly gentleman ran a hand through his black greasy hair and shouted, "Fine then 20!" There was a pause as everyone began looking at one another and then Ronald who was standing casually before them with his hands in his pockets. "Anyone else?" asked Eric with a raised brow.

"Even split," hissed Eric. The blonde looked at him as though he were nuts and asked, "Who's doing the tasting?" Eric groaned and tipped his head back, "Fine 60/40, but her cut comes out of yours." Ronald crossed his arms and shook his head, "Nope, we split that," he stated. He could tell the man wasn't too pleased with this but saw no room to argue.

In seconds various customers were opening their wallets and tossing $20s on the pool table. The stack grew quickly and from what Ronald could tell it was roughly $200 on it. He smirked as he looked at the glasses which Sam had placed beside each of the bottles that were wrapped in brown paper. "Easy," he mumbled to himself and poured himself a glass of beautiful full bodied merlot.