That night in bed, her head on his shoulder, Boone felt Shannon smile broadly. 'What?'
The satisfaction had been radiating off him in waves since that afternoon, 'You're pretty pleased with yourself, aren't you?'
'I guess I am,' Boone allowed.
She pulled away, and propped herself on an elbow, one eyebrow raised questioningly.
'I made a really big decision today, and I feel good about it. I feel like things have changed, like I'm going to be okay.' He tried to put it into words.
'You make decisions every day, Boone.' Shannon said, trying to draw him out. 'You run a business.'
'Not decisions like this one.' He shook his head, 'Not life altering decisions. Whether someone gets Mahi Mahi or Red Snapper doesn't even come close to what I decided on today, what we decided on today, because it wasn't just me, it was both of us.' Boone pulled her close, 'And I even held it together,' he added with a touch of pride at the fact that he hadn't lost his self-control this time.
'Yeah, baby, you did, I'm proud of you.' Shannon snuggled tighter in his embrace, tracing her fingers over one of his hipbones. 'Any second thoughts?'
'None.' What he had was less than he'd hoped for, but far more than he'd expected, not being a greedy man he was content. "I love you, Shan." Boone whispered into her hair.
"I love you too, Boone." Shannon raised her face and kissed him gently, slowly deepening it, enticing him.
'We can't,' he reminded her, his breathing already laboured.
'We can do other things, though, brother dear.' She teased.
'Fuck, Shan, don't call me that at a time like this!' Her hand was already wrapped around him, his eyes rolled back into his head as she slid down his body.
A few minutes later, he shuddered deeply, and pulled her to him again, as he kissed her he could taste the saltiness of himself on her tongue. 'What about you?' He asked, concerned about her satisfaction as well.
'It was enough for me that I got you off.' Shannon smiled lazily; the sounds he'd made and the feelings he had while she was pleasuring him had sparked through her as always, more than sufficient to satisfy her. 'Sleep well, honey.'
In the morning they were directed to one of the solariums where a selection of breakfast foods had been laid out on a sideboard; after filling their plates they sat at the casual glass-topped table. On its surface was an extremely detailed map of the valley with hand-written numbers beside a few locations and a legend at the bottom giving further details.
"Did you all sleep well?" Grant asked upon entering the room.
Receiving a unanimous positive response, he went on to explain the notations. Frank had called several of his local acquaintances and arranged for private tours for them, all they had to do was call the number indicated and speak to the person named, and they'd be granted exclusivity.
Boone advised him that they'd already decided on a sightseeing tour on the bikes for the day, but they'd definitely take advantage of Franks' consideration tomorrow. Grant nodded in understanding, adding that he'd make sure that there would be a driver and a car available for them for their winery tour the next day.
They did the touristy thing for the morning and then stopped for a picnic lunch that Boone had packed. He'd been a bit hesitant at requesting full access to someone else's kitchen, knowing that he wouldn't have been all that comfortable under the same circumstances, but Franks' chef had been more than happy to grant him free rein.
Andrews' hand groped blindly in the Tupperware that had held the sandwiches, his fingers finally encountering the crust of what must have been the final half sandwich, then tangling with Boones' searching for the same thing.
'We'll split it,' Andrew suggested, tearing the peanut butter and lettuce stuffed bread triangle in half, and holding it out to his dad.
The afternoon was spent much in the same way as the morning, endless breathtaking scenery and lots of stops for photo ops.
The next day, they left the bikes at the mansion, and clambered into the back of the limousine, no drinking and driving, Boone had said, even though Shannon was sure he wouldn't consume more than a half a glass during the entire day. Still, she knew that she would, and they'd each be on their own motorcycles, so she was happy for the liveried service. She'd made numerous phone calls the night before, and had scheduled several business meetings for them, after all this was supposed to be both a pleasure and a business vacation, as they sourced out suitable vintners as possible suppliers.
The wines presented for them at the first stop were pedestrian at best, though they'd both falsely enthused over the mundane offerings, they hadn't committed to any purchases at all. The second place was marginally better, but still not up to the standards of something that they'd want to associate with their name. After lunch, they hit gold with the third location, however.
Andrew sat and listened as they praised the finish and texture, things he'd thought more associated with furniture than with a beverage. They truly lost him when they started talking about the "nose" and the "legs." Intrigued, he snuck a hand out and carefully snagged Boone's forgotten glass by the stem and pulled it towards himself. While no one was looking he casually took a sip. It tasted positively awful! Certain that he'd done something wrong, he tried another sip; he found it slightly better, but still not deserving of the praise with which it was being lavished. Maybe he needed a larger volume? He took a big gulp, and felt the heat radiate up from his stomach. That was better, he decided.
They moved on from the white to the blush and he did the same thing.
Even though the wine poured into the glasses was just a sample-sized amount, by the time the Merlot arrived he was having a hard time seeing just one of everyone.
When he hiccupped and giggled, almost falling off his chair, Boone turned to him with a raised eyebrow. Andrew pulled himself together and gave his dad an innocent smile.
The second time however, Boone peered at him closely, taking in the slightly glassy eyes and the slight smudges of red staining the corners of his mouth. He looked from his empty wine glass to Andrew and back again. Every time he'd found his glass empty, he'd figured he must have absently mindedly finished it while focusing on the conversation, he realized with incredulity that in fact Andrew must been the one polishing off the contents each and every time.
'You're drunk!' Boone thought at him in horror.
'Wha? Naw, m'not.' Even the boys' silent communication was slurred; he wobbled in his seat.
"He's drunk!" Boone blurted at Shannon, and stared at Andrew, his eyes wide and mouth gaping open in shock.
Andrew looked blearily across the table at their host, Keith, and giggled so hard that some of it came out as a snort. All his inhibitions completely absent he raised his arm and pointed waveringly, "He thinksh Shan looksh really hot in those shorts, but tha' she'd look even better out of 'em." He covered his mouth with both his hands and started laughing hysterically.
Keith looked startled and flushed bright red, his gaze flicked anywhere except at the three of them, too mortified to even wonder how the boy could have know that.
Shannon peered at Andrew, eyes narrowed, slowly she grinned and almost started laughing, forcing the smile off her face when Boone glared at her with indignation. "It is not funny, Shannon! He's frigging wasted!"
Andrew leaned forward and threw up on Boone's boots, spattering a lurid dark red stain on the cuffs of his jeans and black leather of his footwear, getting a fair measure on the beige carpet as well.
Shannon jumped up and grabbed a handful of napkins, rushing around the table to where Boone was already starting to heave himself in reaction; she stuffed a wad of napkins at him and turned from him to deal with their son, leaving Boone to sort himself out.
Andrew threw up once more out in the parking lot, but mercifully not in the back of Frank's limousine. They got him back to the mansion and upstairs into his bed, Boone carrying him up the stairs after Andrew passed out on the ride back.
Andrew opened his eyes cautiously, his head throbbing; it felt like something had died in his mouth. Hearing a slight stirring he rolled his head to the right. Boone was sound asleep in a chair by the bed, his head cocked at an unnatural angle that was no doubt going to leave him in pain once he woke up. Feeling a weight on his right shoulder, he then directed his gaze in that direction. Shannon was lying in bed beside him, the covers down low enough that he could see the corner of the navy blue t-shirt of Boone's that she was wearing. He stared back at the ceiling again and tried to piece together the fragments of memory that were all he had of the previous afternoon. Giving it up after a few fruitless minutes he started to rise slowly; the hand on his shoulder tightened.
'Come,' Shannon beckoned, and slid out of bed, indicating that he should follow her.
Andrew scrambled gingerly across the expanse and got to his feet, swaying a bit unsteadily, feeling the bile rise in his throat as his stomach flipped.
She grabbed his arm and rushed the two of them, as quietly as possible, out of the room and across the hall, pushing him into the bathroom of the ensuite of their bedroom. He ran to the toilet and got to his knees in front of it, dry heaving over the bowl.
Shannon was standing by the open shower stall door, when he finished, the stream of water already started. 'Strip,' she ordered, pointing at his boxers, the only garment he was wearing.
Andrew did as he was told and entered the enclosure to stand gingerly under the spray from the showerhead, wincing at the force of the water as it battered his skull.
She was still standing there where he was done, though now she was holding a towel. She'd obviously left while he was bathing as there was a change of fresh clothes for him on the vanity, and she was now wearing jeans with the navy tee.
Shannon waited in watchful silence, an unimpressed look on her face while he dried and dressed, he avoided looking at her completely, her eyes figuratively burning a hole in his back.
Downstairs in the kitchen, she seated him at the table before she crossed to the fridge, returning with a bottle of sports drink, after exchange a few quiet words with the chef, she slammed it down on the table in front of him.
"Drink that," was her next order.
Totally dehydrated from his escapades, Andrew uncapped the bottle and tore off the security covering, thirstily chugging a quarter of the bottle before his mom reached out and snatched it out of his hand.
"Drink it too fast and you'll just puke again," she told him.
He nodded, and lowered his head, his fringe of hair hiding his face as he sat hunched in the chair in misery.
"Just what the hell were you thinking? If you even were, which I seriously doubt." She continued to vocalize the conversation; they weren't alone in the room.
Andrew explained about wanting to try the wine after listening to them discussing it.
"So you're trying to make this our fault, then?" She threw at him, caustically.
"Well…." He whined.
"Don't you fu…" She bit off the half-word and took a deep breath, as a plate of toast was placed on the table in front of Andrew. "Eat that," She angrily shoved the plate under his nose, "slowly."
He nodded, slightly, and picked up a slice, nibbling at a corner disinterestedly.
"At least be big enough to take responsibility for your own actions! Do you have any idea what he was like last night? Do you know what you did to him?" Shannon demanded.
Andrew put the toast back down, as tears threatened.
"He spent almost an hour blaming himself, it took all I had just to keep him from a complete breakdown. Once he was over that he just got pissed off. In all our years together, I don't think I've ever heard Boone use the words he was yelling. And at me because you were conveniently unconscious." The last words positively dripped with snark and sarcasm.
"I'm sorry," Andrew mumbled.
"Look at me, Andrew!" Shannon commanded through clenched teeth.
He raised his head as the first of his tears welled up.
"Now, what did you say?" She asked him, dangerously.
"I'm sorry, Shan." He started sniffling as he fought to not cry. He'd never seen Shannon quite so furious, he didn't even want to think about Boone's reaction.
"I'm ashamed of you, it's going to take a lot more than a simple apology to make up for this." It wasn't so much that she was pissed of at Andrew, after all she'd gotten drunk for the first time even younger than he currently was, sipping from abandoned champagne glasses at Adam and Sabrina's wedding; no, it was the reaction his stupidity had elicited from Boone, who even now, was entering the room.
He pulled a chair out from the table, and sat heavily, rolling his head on his shoulders as he tried to work the kink out.
Andrew hid his face again, his shoulder shaking slightly as he awaited Boone's judgement.
Boone exchanged a few silent words with Shannon, who then excused herself to get ready for whatever the day held in store for them. She gripped Boone's shoulder briefly as she passed him, giving it a comforting squeeze.
"I'm disappointed in you," Boone said, softly.
There were no other four words that could possibly have cut him more deeply; Andrew started sobbing.
Boone just sat and watched him. He let him cry for a few minutes then started talking, putting his disappointment and shame into words.
Andrew withered under the barrage, unable to protest or repudiate any of it, by the time Boone was finished, his tears had run dry.
"We discussed a suitable punishment for you." Boone told him.
"W...w...what is it?" Andrew choked out.
"You're going to apologize. To Keith, and then to Frank as well when he gets here tomorrow, you abused his trust by behaving so poorly in front of one of his friends." There was more to the atonement, but Boone wasn't telling Andrew that just yet.
He opened his mouth, about to plead for lenience, mortified at the thought of having to face the man from yesterday, but stopped himself just in time, just nodding instead when he realized that the punishment was more than fair.
An hour later he stood in front of Keith, his cheeks red in embarrassment having just delivered the brief speech he'd rehearsed to himself in the car.
Keith accepted his apology, and then looked at Boone and Shannon standing behind Andrew, "So, he's mine for the day?"
"Yes," Boone confirmed.
Andrew spun to face them, his confusion evident, "What?!"
"You're going to work off the cost of the clean-up," Shannon told him, nodding at the place on the rug, which now bore no trace of the stain he'd caused the day before. "What time should we pick him up?"
Keith checked his watch, "Let's see, it's ten a.m. now, so I'd say he'll be done his shift at about six."
'Boone, no!' He silently entreated all the time knowing he had no grounds on which to base a committal of his sentence.
Ignoring him completely, Boone told Keith to be sure that Andrew didn't shirk at all, and if he thought that he hadn't pulled his weight, they'd simply bring the boy back the next day. Boone was fairly certain that he could rely on Andrew to acquit himself suitably, however.
Andrew watched sadly while his parents left, then he was led away to his labours.