By Design

Fallon 2022 Halloween Costume --> Runaway Bride 

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Some could consider Sawyera wine snob, however, she saw it as knowing what she liked. It just happened tobe that she had very expensive taste. So, after meeting Fallon at the festivaland giving her information so the woman could contact her when she gotsomething in that was too good to pass up. Sawyer went to answer the door.Despite it being Saturday and having the day off – she was still dressed to thenines. The only time she wasn’t put together, was when she was going to bed –but even her pajamas were a matching set. At the sight of Fallon, she flashed agrin – eyeing the bottle of wine in the woman’s hand. “I trust your taste.” Sawyerstepped to the side, as opened the door a bit wider for the woman to walkthrough. “You can come in, and share a glass? If you don’t have anywhere elseto be after this.” 

*

Fallon had low-key hoped to catch Sawyer in sweatpants and a tee-shirt, something to maybe diminish her perfect rich girl aesthetic. Of course that wasn’t the case and Sawyer looked like she could be on the cover of a magazine. Not Vogue or anything too fancy, she wasn’t trying to show off, but People or some other money-making tabloid that always had pretty celebs on the cover. “I could have a glass,” Fallon agreed as she walked into the mansion. “Or two...” She would never pass up a glass of wine. Especially when she could drink in a swanky place like this. “Let me guess, you have a wine cellar?” It was half a tease, half genuine curiosity. 

Fallon stepped further into the house. “I think your staircase is more valuable than my whole apartment.”

The sound of shattered glass pulled Izzy from her daydreaming as she stood at the bus stop, and she was immediately on high alert. After the festival, she’d been even more hypervigilant at Matias’s insistence, and it was by some miracle she hadn’t automatically whipped out the butterfly knife she keeps tucked away in her purse – and probably for the better, as it would’ve made the upset woman’s day worse than it already seemed to be as the wine oozed out onto the concrete. “Oh gosh…” she muttered to herself, scurrying over towards her and forgetting about catching a ride home. “Excuse me, are you okay? I heard the noise and wanted to make sure you didn’t hurt yourself.”

*

Fallon jumped when an unfamiliar voice pulled her from her mutterings. Looking at the woman she was familiar in the sense that everything in town was familiar. Fallon let out a heavy sigh. “I’m fine, thanks.” She looked down at the mess of wine and glass on the ground. “Physically I’m fine.” She shook her head and turned her attention back to the woman. “Sorry about that I swear I know how to carry a box of wine. It’s my specialty really.” A good portion of glass was contained by the milk crate, but Fallon knew the second she lifted it up more glass would pour out. “Look uh, do you mind just standing here and making sure no one eats shit on glass and grapes? I’d owe you. A bottle of wine or something. And... shit I know we were in the same graduating class I just kinda chose to forget about high school you know?” It was so awkward being back and wanting to be a stranger despite that being impossible. 

–

Resting his elbows down on the counter, he glanced across at Fallon, eager to see what she thought of the different brews he’d placed in front of her. Sooner or later, he hoped he’d find one that she liked, but he of all people understood that beer was an acquired taste. “White wine gone bad?” He parroted back as he placed a hand over his chest, pretending to take offense. He grinned a moment later though as she picked another from the row and guessed correctly. “Yup, that’s Sapphire Blonde, our most popular pale ale.” That one was always a hit for people who weren’t big on craft brews. “I’ve got a couple more,” he began as he started preparing another set of samples. “A couple IPAs, one porter, aaand this last one,” he paused, topping off the glass, “hasn’t hit the shelf yet. It’s our newest double IPA, doesn’t even have a name yet.” Sliding the glasses towards her, Gabe poured a bit of the new brew for himself, “So when am I gonna get a wine tasting?”

*

Fallon hid her amusement at Gabe’s mock (or perhaps very real) offense. She’d gotten good at stifling a giggle when she worked bottle service. Men were crude, loud-- and unfortunately sometimes very funny. But she only ever laughed when she knew it would give her a better tip. Which most jesters in Vegas wouldn’t cough up. “Guess I’m a real hipster then,” Fallon shrugged as she took another sip of water. The truth was she just never liked beer. Not sure why. She liked fermented grapes, she liked bread, why not fermented bread? One of the great mysteries of the universe. Fallon watched Gabe set the glasses down in front of her, not all that impressed till he put down the final one. It wasn’t the color of the ale or it’s exclusivity that excited her. She just knew double IPAs had a shit ton of alcohol and could knock grown men on their asses.  

“Um, whenever you come into the place?” Fallon offered. “But if you want my guidance the whole tasting, we can schedule that. I’ll even come in when we’re closed.” Connections would take her far and considering how busy this place was, Gabe was a pretty good connect to have. Fallon picked up the double IPA, “what wines do you like?” She asked curious before taking a big gulp of the IPA. Well, she certainly couldn’t taste the alcohol. That counted for something. “This one I sort of like,” she mused though couldn’t pin down what she liked about it, besides the promise of getting her fucked up. 

“Ugh,” Fallon muttered, her nose scrunching as she finished off the pale sour, placing the glass back on the wood slab it came out on along with a handful of other tasters. “Yeah, no, thought since it’s more fruity I would like it more.” Fallon curled her lips the taste of the drink still lingering in her mouth. “Taste like white wine gone bad.” She shook her head and took a sip of water, then lifted up another of the tasters. This one a rich amber color. “Okay so this one is... let me guess, I’ve worked in bars, I know this,” she chatted to Gabe. Before she made her guess she downed that flight as well. “Hm, okay that one is a bit better. What is that, a pale ale?” Not that it mattered, she wasn’t going to buy any. She just liked drinking. And while Mad Dog Brewing wasn’t her aesthetic, it had a warmth to it that made it easy to kick back and relax. Fallon pushed aside the finished row of sample beers. “Okay, so what other samplers you got?” she asked. 

Fallon double checked the address even though the massive house before her could only belong to a handful of people. Well, a handful of people that weren’t deeply entrenched in the gangs. Which to Fallon’s knowledge, Sawyer was not. Once she knew this was Sawyer’s place she got out of her beat up truck, holding a nice bottle of chardonnay. She knocked at the door before holding the bottle of wine in such a way she was a presenting it like it was a reward on a game show. Sawyer opened the door and Fallon practically started singing. “I’ve brought you one of my favorites,” she smiled. “Sadly it’s not local but I sold probably a hundred or so of these when I was in Vegas.”

Fallon sipped at her cup of coffee with a splash of jäger, eyeing the milk crates filled with wine bottles she needed to lug into Pi-not. She could have one of her servers or the one chef she employed for little appetizers to come in and do it for her. But then she’d probably end up paying someone overtime. Being her own boss had its perks. This wasn’t one of them. With a huff she set down her coffee and got to work, grabbing the first milk crate. The first trip went fine, but with the second crate in hand she stumbled over her coffee and dropped the crate. The clash of glass made her wince, Fallon shutting her eyes and not really wanting to open them again. It didn’t take a genius to guess what had happened to the bottles of wine. “Fuck,” she breathed, her eyes still locked shut. “Fuck, fuck fuck-- fuck me, fuck me, fuck me--” She spoke like it was a spell to fix the mess in front of her. 

–

Truthfully, for as much as Reina loved wine, she didn’t know much about what went into making them, or what made each type special. Most bottles she had at her apartment came from California or Oregon– every now and then she’d have a blend from Argentina. But she’d never really paid much attention to that before. Maybe it was time to start. “Honestly, I haven’t tried much local wine, so I’m down for whatever you recommend,” she admitted, wondering how she’d managed to avoid it for so long. It wasn’t intentional– usually, she’d just pick up a few bottles from the grocery store, not really paying much mind to the labels. She’d never been much of a rosé drinker, but she was all about broadening her horizons, or whatever the saying was, “Could I try a sample? Your rosé and all your Nevada reds?” Glancing down at her outstretched hand, she reached out to take it, “Reina,” she murmured, unsure how the two of them hadn’t crossed paths over the years. “Nice to meet you, Fallon. So…are you from around here? I don’t know how I haven’t run into you yet– no chance I’d forget a face like that,” she offered, tossing her a quick grin.

*

“There isn’t exactly a long history of growing wine in Nevada,” Fallon admitted. Unsurprisingly deserts weren’t the best place for growing much of anything other than cacti. “You could say I’m cornering the market,” she winked. In all honesty, Fallon just felt like she needed a gimmick. Even if there wasn’t much competition for wine bars she figured the regular bars in town sufficed for most citizens. So, make things feel local with some state-grown grapes. Fallon nodded as she shook Reina’s hand. “Well, I was born here, grew up here,” she explained as she preps the wine samples for Reina in little paper cups. “But I flew the coop when I was eighteen. Just moved back... two years ago now?” Ugh that hurt to say. Sometimes Fallon missed the Vegas lights and long nights. Then she remembered rent prices. “Well, likewise Reina. I’ll surely remember you if we cross paths again.”

“Can’t really argue with that one. It definitely falls in third place for me, though. I feel like it’s part of the aesthetic of all those Housewives of wherever, and I really don’t feel like placing myself on the same level.” her tone was slightly dismissive, but the curve of her lips into a tiny grin showed she was joking. She’d known Fallon a long time, and even though they hadn’t exactly stayed in touch, she still felt comfortable enough in her company. “Oh, please just go ahead and pour! That sounds perfect.” Val could smell the spices from the mulled wine, and although it felt a little too early in the year, it was still pulling her right into the mood of her favourite time of year. “Can I also take like twenty cups to go so I can make my entire house smell this good?”

Fallon couldn’t help but snort when Valentina brought up the housewife aesthetic. “You’ve got a point. Though day drinking is also very housewife and well...” She lifted her own cup of mulled wine before taking a sip and placing it back in its hiding spot. “I don’t even own a house,” she pointed out with a grin. She had an odd fondness for her old classmate. She supposed she had an odd fondness for this whole town. Fallon’s smile grew into a proper cheeky grin when Valentina told her to pour away. “I’ll get you a to-go cup,” she poured Valentina a little extra. “I can tell you what all spices I’ve got in there,” she said with a laugh. “Twenty loose cups of hot wine sounds like a hazard.”

“Definitely not my scene,” Dante confirmed for her, happily taking the glass. Swirling the liquid, he took a quick sniff and hummed. “Smells good,” he complimented before taking a sip. “Tastes good, too.” Licking the last bit from his lips, he handed her back the glass. “I’m here on orders. Gotta keep an eye on things for a bit before things get really fun.” 

.

Fallon felt little pin pricks at the back of her neck when Dante took the glass and began smelling its aroma. Most people today had just been happy to get booze. Normally she’d appreciate someone having the same reverence for wine as she did-- but she wasn’t sure she wanted Dante’s opinions right now. Thankfully he liked her selection, and a little smile tugged at her lips. She accepted the glass. “I can get you a to-go cup if you’d like.” She cocked her head to the side. “Or maybe not if you’re on a job.” She bent down to place the glass gingerly in the bin of other to be washed glasses. “Please tell me when you say fun you mean the hay ride?” She wasn’t sure why she asked. As if Dante would tell her anything. 

-

“I’m a Sauvignon Blanc kind of girl.” Her taste in wine was expensive and classy, but she was more of a white wine kind of woman. Red if she ever got a taste for it, but at least if the white wine spilled it didn’t leave that noticeable of a stain. “Although it smells heavenly, I don’t do mulled wine. But, I am interested in hearing about your recommendations.” She said as she glanced over the bottles placed neatly on her table. “Sawyer Decker.” She introduced herself with a quick glance in the woman’s direction followed by a small smile before her eyes looked back down at the table. 

.

“Wonderful,” Fallon nodded. It was a popular wine, for good reason. “I have a 2018 Sauvignon Blanc, very bright and crisp. Nice sipping wine but pairs well with most meals, I find.” Fallon bothered to grab the woman a proper tasting glass. Most of her patrons were getting paper cups. But Fallon was looking to impress. She set out the glass, followed by the bottle of Sauvignon Blanc, but hesitated in pouring it. “Hm,” she thought a moment about what else to recommend. “Oh, I’ve got a different Sauvignon Blanc, but it’s aged in tequila barrels instead of oak.” She pulled out another bottle, the color of the wine much lighter than the other bottle. Fallon grabbed another glass-- really hoping her assumption this woman had money to spend was correct.

“Nice to meet you Sawyer. I’m Fallon.” She paused before realizing it was probably good to say her last name. “Landry,” she added. 

Rhett had plenty of time to kill before his set that evening with Mayra and Gabe, which honestly not great for him. Thinking about performing in front of the entire town made Rhett want to throw up, honestly. A few years ago, he wouldn’t have blinked an eye at playing a crowd like that but now? That was out of the question. There had been several times he thought about up and leaving the festival but for some reason, he stuck around. Pride maybe?

Smelling something pretty pleasant in the air, he wandered over and slipped his hands into the pockets of his jacket, “What do you recommend to drink?” He asked with a smile, “I wouldn’t know a good glass of wine even if it slapped me in the face.” Rhett laughed.

.

A thin man wearing a leather jacket approached the booth. Somehow Fallon just knew the jacket was for aesthetic purposes and not some flaunt he was a part of one of the gangs. When he opened his mouth, the thick British accent confirmed her assumption. As anyone would leave Europe for a gang controlled desert town. Fallon returned Rhett’s smile. “Well if you’re not a big wine person, we’ll start you with a chenin blanc.” She reached down and grabbed the bottle she’d already opened for a couple about a half hour ago. “It’s pretty sweet, basically grape juice,” she teased. She poured the drink into a paper cup. Not the best option for wine sampling but she wasn’t going to risk her nice glassware on an event like this. She handed Rhett the drink. “Are you passing through? Had to check out the bikes?”

Festivals weren’t his thing. Dante missed the night life of Las Vegas; the bars, the tourists, the strip clubs. That was where he truly belonged. Tonopah was ruining his spirit - he could feel it. Small towns sucked the souls of the people who resided in them, blinding them of the true horrors of the world. They were all ignorant of what was happening around them. The Enterprise’s plan to takeover was all too easy. Approaching Fallon’s booth, Dante offered her a toothy grin. “How about I take a bitter red,” the man ordered with a devious smirk. “Oh and a wine please.” The man giggled to himself at the joke, unsure if the woman would get it or not.

*

Fallon bit the inside of her lip when she saw Dante approach. But she was quick to turn on the customer service smile like she was back in her late twenties working bottle service for a bunch of frat bros. At least Dante had a right to be a bit conceded. Still, once Dante had finished his drink order slash joke, Fallon found herself rolling her eyes. “I wouldn’t call myself bitter just a bit tart. A little kick you know.” She grabbed a wine just as dry as her delivery and poured Dante a glass without any further explanation or flowery sell like she had with the rest of her customers. “I’m surprised you’re even here. I thought the hay bales and 80s rock would scare you away.”