Cocktail for the best friend

What can I say, the keen intuition did not fail the writer here too: in the elegant crystal glass under the paper cover was hiding the very friendly "super secret". It was yet to be solved, and not to say that it would cause any difficulties. Once upon a time, right from his student days, Castle had been looking for a job for over a year. Without much benefit to himself and, of course, without obvious pleasure, he tried many things, until at the instigation of a friend he found himself in one of the bars of Tribeca County. The reception was cool, they didn't promise much, and they handed him a rag and a mop, but he optimistically believed that it wouldn't always be like this. With his natural charm, light, unobtrusive humor, diligence, accuracy and determination in everything Castle quickly gained the confidence of his hosts, which eventually allowed him to take the coveted place behind the counter. There Rick was gaining experience bit by bit, or rather - one drop at a time. He had plenty of imagination even then; economical consumption of alcohol gave its fruits, too, and, making variants of the rainbow of hops according to his color and taste, Castle got pretty good at it. He came up with intricate names for the cocktails, sometimes with ironic overtones, and immediately, after tasting them, he gave them to the tipsy regulars. It turned out great; professional pride grew with every successful shot, and if mistakes were made, their consequences were always corrected. That's why a symmetrical response to Greg would not be long in coming. Not knowing how it turned out at Ardsley's, but Castle considered himself quite choosy about the types of alcohol, their breakdown by aromas, shades of color and consistency. However, it would be better to guess in the light. And Castle looked questioningly at Eardsley.

He understood his friend without words; without turning around, he made a characteristic hand gesture. There was a soft click, a noticeable brightening above the men, and an eerie shade in the rest of the room. Castle flicked his eyes from side to side, and grinned slyly. So what if ridiculous childhood fears came to mind, for such a gambler like him did not care about anything else.

While Greg was concentrating on the tangerine, Rick carefully took the glass by its openwork leg and brought it to his face. With a slight, respectful sway, he swirled the alcoholic vapors. He sniffed thoughtfully, but was in no hurry to make conclusions. Though he embellished his admiration, only the bartender's light hand and skill were able to lay out perfectly even, clearly delineated layers.

"Oh, you're almost an ace, too, my friend!" - Castle admired himself: his already excellent mood soared to its peak. Already imagining how he would surprise his friend with his bartending knowledge, Rick passed the cocktail in front of him in a graceful, ascending arc. Staring at it, he held the glass almost above his head to let the light shine through, and an indulgent smile blossomed on the writer's lips. It's so interesting to see how the colors, each layer separately and the cocktail as a whole, shimmer. Now I can and should speculate about the contents, and if the self-inspection succeeds, I can praise myself. And, by the way, your own unspoken assertion "I distinguish anything and everything!" doesn't seem quite unsubstantiated, because Richard Castle's keen sense of smell is unquestionable.

After a short time in the light, the glass returned to Castle's mouth, but instead of a careful sip his inquisitive nose went almost all the way to the lightest - the top - layer. Emitting a faint scent of pine, clear and delicate blue, the drink looked like a patchwork of spring sky over the rooftops of New York City.

- Hmm? - Castle hummed questioningly, shaking his head amusedly: he was bursting with his own foresight. With his expressive lips forming an amused bow, Rick exhaled cautiously through his mouth and immediately sucked the air back in through his nose:- That's a great shot you made, buddy! - Rick bowed his head in appreciation. - Do you mind if I drink it all at once? Boo-hoo! And a real booze bomb in my blood! Explosion! A whirlwind. Oops! Earthquake! Rolling to the side and all that... Well, then... you can spread your limbs on a mattress, under a starry sky! I guess that would be the end of the line for tonight! Pretty cool, huh?

Castle's face immediately adopted a simple, dreamy expression, and his eyelids flattened into thoughtful crevices. Rick leaned back a little, his hand in a characteristic U-turn going upward, with the thin edge of the glass against his lips, and froze halfway there. Along with Castle, who was staring at his friend in a daze: there was obviously something wrong with Gregory! Ardsley's face suddenly turned white, with ragged lines running from his forehead to his temples, from his eyes and mouth to his cheekbones, and an angry glow in his eyes. Without a word, Ardsley slammed his hands down on the table, accidentally knocking the cloth over his wineglass, which spurted red wine onto the tablecloth:

- Are you out of your mind? Zap him! Spread his limbs without strength! - Ardsley gritted his teeth angrily. - You know how hard I've been working on this stuff, you know? I've tried dozens of compositions and it's all wrong. I was angry, buried in thoughts, scratching my head almost to the blood, and all the time I wanted something unusual, amazing, memorable... and you... in one gulp - that's it! Like a drunk! Like a man who didn't care about me and our friendship! Our friendship, Castle!

Gregory emphasized the last phrase, and then hesitated, as if he didn't know what else to say. His chest under his T-shirt was heaving heavily and intermittently, large drops of sweat glistened on his temples and forehead, and Greg smeared them grudgingly with the back of his hand. He looked at him disapprovingly, almost hostile, and Rick hastened to make a pitying, guilty face.

- Whoa-whoa-whoa-whoa, easy on the overtaking, buddy! - Castle excused himself, obviously not expecting such a reaction to his words. If only because he was just joking, as usual. - And no one was going to neglect you! Actually, it's not what it looks like! It's just a joke! It's a joke! A joke, Greg!

- A joke? - Ardsley squinted his eyes suspiciously as he took a greedy sip of wine. - Did you know that the two of us made this cocktail, and that Theresa is very jealous of what comes out of our hands, you know? I'm sure you don't, but we've grown so close over the years that we think pretty much the same way...

"Yeah, almost like me and Beckett... Too bad she's..." - An involuntary parallel was forming in Castle's mind at that moment, but Rick shook his head sharply to dismiss the irrelevant thoughts. As casually as possible, he smiled at his stern, unpretentious friend. Showing interest with all his appearance, Castle even set his cocktail aside and folded his hands on his stomach.

-Well, I'll continue,- Ardsley tiredly reached for his face tissue, -the point is that I was expecting something different, and that's why I took your words as contemptuous, or even more - as insulting. But you, Castle, should have understood me! As an author! Tasting it layer by layer, tasting the cocktail down to the smallest note. Tell me about your feelings and conjectures, suggest shot variations to taste, or maybe even throw me the gauntlet! After all, this is important to me! For someone who still thinks he needs someone! And having been away from friends for a long time, I know I deserve it! Because I'm just tired of the lack of change! Because I didn't want to be disappointed anymore, Castle! In you! In us! In this crazy, unsightly world! Do you get it now?

Greg finally calmed down. His inflamed gaze drifted to the side, and the hotelier got to his feet and staggered to the counter with his glass in his hand. He whispered with his wife, then returned with the same glass and a slightly empty bottle. He sat down on the chair, which was squeaking with the glass, and quenched his sudden thirst with a couple of big gulps.

- What?- Greg asked unfriendly, seeing the look on Castle's face. - Do you know what that tastes like?

- Well... - Rick asked indefinitely. He paid little attention to Greg's odd quirk and dipped the tip of his tongue gently into the drink. He smacked his tongue lightly and even stubbed his thumb in inexpressible pleasure:

- Heh! One-zero for me, indeed! And you were wrong to assume that I didn't know the flavors of almonds, lemon peel, licorice, juniper, coriander, cassia, cubeba berries, and grains of paradise that make up the recipe for Bombay Sapphire gin. That was a sincere delusion, Greg! It's as easy as launching a satellite into Jupiter! Why didn't you do it, buddy?

- You've got six more tries, and I... that... I'm sorry... it was that disaster...- Inadequately impulsive a moment ago, Ardsley was now ashamed of his natural, burning embarrassment. One thing reassured Greg: always kind, tactful, and forgiving Castle would surely understand him and not judge him.

Gregory fell back on the glass. He drank greedily, in frequent, copious gulps, like a run-weary dog. He set the half-empty glass aside and chewed on his tightly clenched lips, draining them of the wine. Now the men stared eye to eye until Ardsley shook his dry finger admonishingly:

- And, by the way, no one insists on delusion! It's only a trial balloon!

Rick squinted his eyes in amusement at the empty grudge! So he calmly finished his gin.

- I'll beat off the second one successfully too! - With undisguised pleasure, Rick indulged in an entertaining tasting. Thoughtfully, with his tongue on the palate, he rubbed the taste and smiled: definitely, a brandy. Transparent, with a slight tint of ripe, yellow-sided pear and a characteristic, long fruity and floral aftertaste. Though not thirty years old like the classics of winemaking - Lemorton family, but still definitely good as an aperitif or digestif. Perhaps there's a special attitude to it, too, to lure Beckett unobtrusively out for a treat with minimal risk to the ears. It's such a kind of poetic, creative drink; you don't just drink it, but it's as if you inhale it. As lightly and as often as possible. Because you like it.

- Oops, guessed it! It's pear calvados! - Castle said in a slightly dismissive tone. - And here's a two!

Ardsley nodded affirmatively. With his hands free under his arms, he carefully watched the eldest child, who had finally tasted something delicious: such noisy sighing, grunting, and contented sniffling accompanied the meal. All the more so, Rick felt an involuntary thrill as he tasted the triplet. He could hardly forget that special, sweet bitterness, that unparalleled taste of the oily, thick, succulent-green, chlorophyll-like beverage. Drop by drop, sip by sip, the liquor slowly disappeared into the sweet-tasting Kaslovian's mouth.

- Fragrant stuff! - Rick couldn't resist a mischievous wink as his mate nervously fiddled with the top button of his shirt with a crooked smile. - And you still think you fooled me?

Greg only shrugged his shoulders vaguely.

- You? Not all at once, Castle. You haven't said anything about this one yet!

- No, I haven't! - Rick was again bragging about his fastidiousness. - If I were a Franciscan monk, I'd make up my own Castle's Green Chartreuse! And not out of a hundred and thirty, but out of a hundred and thirty-one ingredients! Or even one hundred and thirty-two! It's like the final cherry on top of the cake! Not for nothing do I think that the monks in their time with such a fortress somewhere screwed up!

- Fifty-five turns? Failed or not, they can be forgiven! - With a wry grin, Greg bit his dry lip adamantly. - Well, you'd better try a chocolate bar, then! It's not just any chocolate, it's a secret!

- And it does! With a gold one! - Castle peered through the glass at the lamp: the fourth liquor was even denser than the previous one, but if you looked closely enough, in the rich brown thickness here and there microscopic sparkles were silvery.

- Is this Gregory Ardsley's gastronomic Klondike? - Castle chuckled softly, to which a flattered Gregory responded with a courteous bow. In a way, the liquor had been made by him, and now he was watching Castle's doubts with undisguised superiority. He clothed himself in impassivity when he tasted it, but Aardsley saw through his friend.

- So, what do you think, Ricky? - Greg asked with a slight sneer, relaxing with wine. - Did you learn anything?

- One loss is not a defeat! - Castle was not the least bit embarrassed. - I am still at a crossroads, because there is no characteristic taste of cinnamon on the tongue, like in Goldschlager schnapps. But... you didn't sow the golden foil through the sieve, did you?

- I did,- Greg nodded confidently, - and how I did! Borrowed an ounce or two from Foth Knox, rolled it, chopped it, mixed it up! Do you need a demonstration?- I believe so,- Rick smiled friendly, carefully licking the corners of his plump lips. - I'll take that as your round, but the base is supposed to be Jamaican Tia Maria coffee and chocolate liquor. Am I right about that at least?

- Keep imagining,- Greg took grapes in his palm and slowly put them in his mouth one at a time. - If you're still interested.

- Not gone! - Castle curtly said, tasting the fifth layer: clear, soft pink, it was just like the bright, ruddy cheeks of a girl. True, the taste of the drink was not to the taster's liking. With a sour expression, Rick even compared it to the crushed chatter of rotten peaches, but the sixth, creamy white, was greeted with boyish animation.

- I love contrasts! - Castle admired it wholeheartedly. - The blacker the coffee, the whiter the cream that seems to go with it, but something about the taste I'm not at all sure about! It's hardly Irish Cream! The color of the drink is a juicy beige, but there's not a lot of cream, and there's plenty of sweetness. The consistency is such that it lazily spreads on the tongue. It's probably a Cacao White Marie Brizard of some sort.

- If it doesn't matter to you, this bottle was unlabeled. Teresa got it from some bodega. We both liked the contents, but we kept some for you. Like what's at the bottom,- Greg turned to his wife: having finished typing, Teresa, glass in hand, lurched to the outside of the counter, glancing occasionally at the men. When, after they had interrupted their fascinating occupation, they turned toward her, Teresa turned away dismissively and immediately went back behind the counter, facing the men sideways.

- I don't think she's in the mood,- Greg reached for the fruit again, -but if we could scare you up a little bit, then...

- Thank you! - Castle put his hand to his heart in appreciation. - I haven't the faintest idea how to thank you. You have the makings of a detective. And my special thanks for vintage things: I just adore them. There's always that special spirit of the old days. When winemakers create, they rarely do it for themselves. Many are not conceited, and they please their admirers out of kindness, for no reason at all. Professionals of virtue, in a word.

- You've got it twisted! I never believed in any fortune-telling! - Greg finished the grapes Castle had given up and wiped his lips with a napkin. - Because we ourselves, with our own hands, thoughts, intentions and create our future. We put our own labor into waiting, and if the conveyor belt of life does not fail, it is time for a rich harvest. Speaking of the bottom line...

- I'm already trying it! - Castle willingly raised his free hand. He raised his glass to his lips, and then the light went on in the half of the hall nearest to the bar. The lamps burned brightly, evenly, as if the Ardsley family had decided to give their friend one last festive illumination.

"Oh, by the way: why isn't the registration listed as Edrsley?" - A stray thought flashed through Castle's mind, but with a light heart Rick didn't focus on it, deciding to ask at a more convenient opportunity. He slipped the glass under his omniscient nose, and then put the drink back under the light. Initially thickly tarry, the liquor immediately opened up in color, playing with a purple depth of ruby, as noble and mysterious as the stone itself.

- It is a beautiful color... And the bouquet is not an ordinary, original one. It's good that there is no intrusive bitterness. It always gives me heartburn... - Rick's forehead was furrowed with enthusiasm as he tasted it. Taste notes were far from being unambiguous, and Castle was running his tongue over his lips and palate, where a thin film of liquor he had never heard before, until he exhaled noisily, having finished his drink:

- There is... It was hard to define, but I'll take my chances. It doesn't smell like blackcurrant, there are no dark grapes or plums either, but what a gamut in just two teaspoons! Mmm! Wonderful, oh, wonderful pomegranate tartness with a drop of blackberry, m-m-m-m! But the bitterness, unfortunately, is still a bit too coarse: it lacks that finesse of almonds! Probably based on Grenadine, and what else... I hope for a little hint! Whew!

There was a strange buzzing noise in my head, clogging my ears, but the aftertaste wasn't the least bit disheartening. Setting the empty glass aside, Rick covered his eyes for a moment, shaking his head with pleasure, until somewhere, as if in a fog, he heard a woman's affectionate voice:

- Has he finished all his drink, dear?

- Yes,- Greg also softly replied. - I hope the effect will not be long in coming.

- It wasn't for that, darling. Did you like our treat, Mr. Castle? - they turned to him again in the same dry tone. - Would you like anything else?
- No... - Castle was going to answer bravely, but his swollen tongue made it come out as slimy. And his eyes would not open at all: it was as if lead plates were stuck to his eyelids. - What... will... come... next? Sweet... sleep under... the... stars, or... the Postal Service van... all the way to New York?

A pause followed, during which Castle managed to literally tear his eyes open with his hands. And immediately noticed his mistress: even cats don't move as quietly as she crept up. Teresa stood behind Greg's back, with her hands on his shoulders, and stared at Castle coldly, angrily at point-blank range. Not quite sure what was wrong again, Castle wrinkled his goofy face, though he himself, even though he was groggy, had unpleasant, prickly goosebumps crawling up his spine.

- What... guys? Is something... wrong? Did you... decided to... surprise me with something else? Ow!