#unclelou

Lou fumbled with the lock, after a three hour delay and five hour flight, even turning a key was a struggle.

He walked in as quietly as possible, expecting his wife to be long asleep.

He turned on the kitchen light, dimming it low, pulled open the fridge and pulled out a beer.

After several attempts, he realized it wasn’t a twist off and turned to the cabinet, searching for a bottle opener as quietly as possible.

Suddenly, he heard a noise from the dark hallway.

“Lucy?” He said.

From the darkness, she responded, “why hello there Lou, thank you for joining us this eve.”

Lou smiled, and began walking toward the door.

“But wait, friend, for I have a request.”

Lou paused, confused, “um, is everything okay? Why are you talking so weird-”

“Halt sir, and kindly remove the object from the top of the icebox."

Lou, even more puzzled, turned back to the fridge and realized something was in fact resting on top.

He removed the object, a small toy basketball hoop.

“Why did you put-”

“Read the note, Lou.”

Lou strained to read the tiny letters written on the bottom of the hoop.

After a moment, he raised it overhead toward the dimmed light.

Out of the darkness, Lucy exploded into the kitchen.

Before Lou could react, she leaped into the air, extended a small basketball high into the air, and slammed it through the hoop.

Lou, completely caught off guard, stumbled backwards and lost grip of his beer. He darted forward, tried to catch the beer, but stepped on the ball and lost his balance.

Lou and the beer bottle hit the ground at the same time, but thankfully only the bottle shattered.

Lou looked up, soaked and covered in glass, but before he could say a single word, Lucy screamed, “Get dunked on!”

A long pause.

“Lucy, what the-”

“Oh no, get-

“Lucy?”

“Dunked-”

“Come on Lu-”

“On! Get it dunked on!”

Another long pause.

“Lucy, how was drinks with Bouce.”

Lucy pulled out her phone and snapped a pic of her bedraggled husband.

“Fairly aggressive, but we spent most the time planning this - he’s flush with hoops right now, I think there must have been a sale on Amazon.”

“Flush with hoops?”

“His words. He made it very clear that is the ‘preferred nomenclature’…also his words.”

“Well, fair enough. That was pretty sweet.”

“Honestly, this went about exactly the way he described it.”

Lou breathed out heavily, "I think I need a second.”

Lucy reached down, helped Lou up by pulling on his right arm.

Lou’s meeting was already running late when he grabbed a quick glance at his phone and noticed seven frantic texts from his friend/producer Scott “Bouce” Menilo.

“I hate to be rude all, but I have another appointment and I we need to wrap this up,” Lou said, simultaneously texting to Bouce that he’d call momentarily.

Lou hustled the team out, shut the door, and punched some numbers into the speaker phone.

“Go for Bouce.”

“Jesus man, is everything okay? Sweet way to answer the phone, by the way.”

“Truth. And sure, everything is great, except for the fact that we are morons who are about to get laughed out of town.”

Lou started to get worried, “wait, what happened?”

Bouce spoke slowly, “tell me something.  How would you describe the following - a man who makes his living catching large fish in the ocean?”

“A fisherman?”

Bouce exhaled loud enough to be heard through the phone, “that’s what I thought.  I thought you were supposed to a writer, not a certified moron.”

“Bouce, I’m not following.”

“Two words: Saltwater Cowboy.”

Lou’s stomach dropped to the floor, it took several swallows to clear his throat enough to speak.

“What the hell have have been doing this whole time? That’s the awesomest thing I’ve ever heard, and we’ve just been walking around saying‘fisherman’ like goddamn idiots.”

“This might be the end. Do you think we can get past this?”

“There’s no way to know for sure, but for now…”

The two men spoke at the same time, “…we pray.”

Lou paused long enough to let it sink in, “okay, well, now that we have this out of the way, where are you at on the ‘Nuns that Kill’ re-write?”

“Finishing tweaks this afternoon, I’ll have my guy send it over later.”

“Your fiance must love to know you call her that.”

“More than you’d think. But also, much less.”

“Good. Lucy said she’s meeting Eleanor -, I mean, you and your guy, for a drink later.”

“Yeah, shit, do you want me to tell them about the Saltwater Cow-”

“Sure, if you want your wedding to be called off.”

Lucy Lou (no relation) taps her finger impatiently as she waits on hold for the third time.

“I’m going to get us some more coffee,” says her co-worker Jeanette, rising from the small couch, “are you still doing that real sugar thing?”

“Nah, three pink packets, thank-”

Suddenly the landline crackles back to life, “Excuse me is this Mrs.-”

Lucy pipes in, “good morning, yes this is Lucy, would really appreciate if you could get my husband on the line-”

“Switching over now-”

“Luc’, hey the just pulled me out of...well, is everything okay?”

Lucy motions for her friend to sit back down, “hang on Lou, I’m putting you on speaker.”

Lucy fumbles with the phone’s buttons and then continues.

“Okay, Lou, so everything is fine, but I need you to confirm something-”

“You bet, what’s up?”

“Where are we at on ‘man buns’ for guys with long hair?”

Lou pauses to consider the question.

“In a professional setting?”

“Sure.”

“Well, I guess it all depends on overall grooming and the person-”

Jeanette frowns dramatically and makes a ‘where’s the money?’ hang gesture by rubbing her thumb and fingers together.

“No, okay-” Lucy begins, “so would you personally wear one?”

“If I could grow one, I should think that would be my finest achievement.”

Jeanette mockingly pouts, then hands over a twenty dollar bill. 

“Thanks babe, we’ll talk to you later.”

“That’s it, who are you with-”

Lucy presses a button, and the two women laugh together

“The steely-eyed riders dig deep, heaving their sleek racing machines back and forth with the metronomic precision of a concert violinist’s right hand.  

As they hurl toward the summit, a lone figure appears through the mist. Jean-Sebastien de Coquard, the famous mountain hornsman  of the Haute-Savoie stands proudly, his wooden horn extending an almost impossible three meters.

He inhales deeply, taking in the thick mountain air, each breath a tribute his beloved motherland-”

“Nope, nope…oh my God, no.” Lucy Lou (no relation) stops reading and hands the notebook back to her husband, shaking her head in disgust.

“What’s the problem, I was just-”

“This couldn’t be more pretentious.  I mean, if your point was to write something so pretentious that no one will ever watch professional cycling, then you nailed it.”

Heavy silence as the two face off, and Lou fights hard to keep his bottom lip from trembling.

“I can’t even look you in the eye right now, Lou, I’m just embarrassed for you.”

Another long pause.

“You know what, Luc’, have at it.”

“This is like a person complaining that their lute strings are not well made.”

“Go on.”

“This is like having a strong opinion on the usage of an oxford comma.”

Lou holds out a flat hand palm down and wiggles it side-to-side.

“This is like complaining that your butler’s hands are too small and can’t hold the cash you take out of the bank.”

“Eh, you can do better.”

Lucy pauses to think and carefully takes a sip of wine.

“This is like ordering a glass of Beaujolais then asking if it ‘has been opening well’.”

“Better.”

“This is as pretentious as saying ‘I’m a fan of professional cycling and creative writing’.”

“That cuts to me to my core, Lucy, it really does.”

Lou can’t hold back the trembling any longer and they both burst into laughter. 

“You are truly my finest critic.”

Lou inhaled deeply then raised the glass yet again toward the light, swirling with a clumsy flick of his wrist before sipping loudly.

Lucy Lou (no relation) rolled her eyes and took a modest sip, smiling against the pleasant flavor.

“And what might a young wine like this be doing up so late, my good man?” Lou asked no one in particular, as the rest of the group sampled and murmured.

Lou started to ramble, “I still have no idea what that means-”  

“I’ll tell you who liked to stay out late,” mumbled the haggard man standing behind Lucy, who until this point had remained silent

The man finished his glass and slammed it onto the counter, motioning for another pour.  “My goddamn ex-wife, that’s who.”

Lou laughed and realized that no one else had heard what the man said. 

The group filled up their glasses and continued the vineyard tour outside.

Plucking a few grapes from a vine, the guide proudly began explaining the harvesting process.

“We are at the height of harvest season right now,but remember that the vines are dormant most of the year.”

The man snorted at the comment.

“Dormant most of the year? Maybe they should re-name this vineyard ‘my ex-wife’.”

Lou couldn’t help laughing as Lucy refused to engage. 

“Sorry, brother” Lou said, tipping his glass toward toward the man. 

The guide continued, “but during harvest, over the course of a few weeks at least four men will work on…”

The man spoke again, “Four other men in just a few weeks? Hmm, my ex-wife would probably love this.”

Lou nearly spit his wine out, “oh god, I’m sorry man.”

The group headed into the aging cellar, Lou trailing at the end with his new friend. 

The guide continued to describe the actual wine making process to the group, “…this particular wine, once added to the oak barrels, will stay down here for twenty-one months before we release...”

Lou looked over expectantly.

The man locked eyes with Lou and spat out, “you know, son, twenty-one months is about how old the boy I was raising was when I found out his father was actually a janitor at the local Burger King.”

Lucy walked away without another word as Lou winced, but the man started to smile a bit.  

Hey, maybe this old dude just needs to get it all out, Lou thought to himself, and took a chance, raising his full glass and offering a cheers

“To the future…”

The man paused for a long beat, then smiled and clinked against Lou’s extended glass, “you may be right, son.”

They continued with the tour for awhile, sipping and enjoying, eventually joining the rest of the group in the final wine-shop area. 

The guide finished up and began describing the sale available for the newest vintage.

“…available by the case of course, I think you’ll find this challenging but beautiful white wine is as round, full-bodied and delicious as anything…”

Lou piped up, “challenging, white, round, and full-bodied - sounds like they designed it after your ex-wife, am I right?” 

Lour raised his hand for a high-five while turning to his new friend as the entire group fell silent.  

The man froze, then burst into tears and ran out of the room.  

“Are you kidding me?” Lucy demanded among the sea of of pursed lips and gasps of disapproval at Lou’s comment.

The guide was furious, “what the hell man, why would say that to my uncle?”