Post by Stormm on Oct 7, 2018 23:30:03 GMT -5
Twin Lakes, as the summer came to an end, smelled of raspberries, and why shouldn’t it? The first Friday in October each year marked the beginning of Kansa County’s annual Raspberry Festival, and the curious town was the focal point.
Up and down Lumara Way, starting early Thursday morning, vendors from all over the area began to line the street downtown with their raspberry inspired goods, blocking off parking for three blocks.
Lumara Farms, just outside of Twin Lakes, supplied raspberries nationally, but more so to the Midwest region of the United States, and their yield helped business all across North Central Kansas thrive.
Clyde Lumara, among the first generation to grow up in Twin Lakes, started the farm from a single plant in the early 1900s in memory of his late wife. Today, Lumara Farms is a fourth-generation family business, and one of the largest berry growers in the United States.
Clyde’s only child, Robert, took over the farm in 1942 when he passed away.
Robert’s only child, John, took over the business in 1984 when he passed away.
John’s only child, Frank, took over the business in 2000 when he retired.
Then, in 2016, over three decades after he spearheaded the first festival, John passed away, and Main Street was renamed to Lumara Way, not only for him, but for the family who helped grow and keep Twin Lakes the thriving community it still is today.
This year marked the 34th annual celebration, and that Saturday had started just like every other for the past thirty-three years, with the parade. The Michaels had planned to attend the festivities that day, and visit family in the area, but with Lindsay feeling under the weather, Justin had the twins to himself. Not being one to rely on others while sick, being more in favor of being left alone, she insisted that her husband and the kids go without her.
Living in big cities her whole life, and rural America seeming more like a myth to her than anything, Izzy, Joey and Remi’s live-in nanny, asked to tag along. Rather than argue having help with the kids, or feeling bad for leaving her with his sick wife, Justin happily agreed.
While he loved spending time with his kids, and Izzy had become apart of their family over the last half year or so, not just as a nanny to his and Lindsay’s children, or even as a pseudo personal assistant, but as a friend, having someone to take the stress away from watching the two rascals by himself was much needed.
He had been training non-stop for weeks, drowned with publicity, and ambushed with questions everywhere he went. Stormm versus Grimm was shaping up to be one of the biggest matches of the year, and for good reason.
They were two of the most tenured roster members currently active in Pure Class Wrestling, and they had been in the ring both opposite each other and on the same side on numerous occasions.
Deadly Intentions would mark the sixth–SIXTH–time they had faced off one on one.
It would be the first time since Trauma 136, over five years ago, that they faced off in singles action.
It would be the first pay-pay-view since their only other match, Collision Course 2, over eleven years ago, that they faced one another on an even bigger stage!
Not only that, but it was for the North American Championship. A title that Justin has held onto for almost an entire year. A title that Phinehas has never held.
The pressure was immense. Not only from everyone else, but from himself as well.
The Raspberry Festival was just what he needed. To see his kids smile and laugh. To be in a crowd of people rather than being in front of one. To just be Justin for a day, and not have to worry about Stormm.
The parade that morning was a hit. Joey enjoyed the shiny paint jobs and revved up engines of all the classic cars, just like Dad. Remi waved back at everyone in the parade that waved to the crowd. But her biggest thrill was the final float. The Raspberry Royalty float.
Each year, a local teen is chosen to be either the Raspberry Princess, or Prince, by the community. Volunteer work, holding a job in the community, and helping raise funds for the festival are all taken into consideration when the vote is held. While some may argue it’s all just based off of names and popularity, that’s far from the case. The prime example, Frank Lumara broke the mold of his family by having more than 1 child, 4 in fact. While his two eldest children, Adelaide and David, had been crowned in the past, his third child Isaac, the lazy one, wasn’t even nominated. This year, however, a Lumara had taken the crown again.
Pearl Lumara was the Raspberry Princess, and Remi squealed when the blonde haired young woman, during a pause in the parade, climbed down off her throne on the final float and personally delivered a toy scepter to her, as was tradition.
Like her older brother before her, David.
Like his older sister before him, Adelaide.
And like their father before them, Frank.
Pearl had become Twin Lakes royalty. She worked for her father in the offices at Lumara Farms throughout the year. She worked extra part time jobs during the summers. She spent her weekends volunteering at the hospital and retirement home. On top of it all, she had raised more money for the festival than any candidate in the past, even surpassing the main fundraising efforts of the city and county.
She was likely the most driven of the fifth generation Lumaras, and despite David’s intentions of taking over from his father, already a better candidate to do so.
To Twin Lakes, Lumara was as big a name as Michaels was to the professional wrestling world, and around every turn, there was someone talking about them. Whether it be wandering underneath vendor tents in the street, or visiting the shops that were staples of the community.
The largest source of information and gossip of Twin Lakes and the Lumara’s, however, was, to some, the main draw of the town. Not just during the festival, but the rest of the year. The Kill Devil Inn.
Proprietor Jameson Reid opened the doors of the pub in 2001 after the financial success of the parent business, Twin Lakes Brewing Company. Opened with a loan from his best friend, Frank Lumara, in ‘93, Twin Lakes Brewing had gotten by on minimal success locally with their small selection of lagers and ales initially. It wasn’t until a few years later that their Raspberry Wheat hit the shelves, and the company started to see a spike in sales that allowed them to expand their space. The brewery grew, and their distribution did as well.
So in 2001, after the marriage with his high school sweetheart fell apart, and years of Frank refusing to be paid back, Jameson paid off the original loan, and used what was left of his savings to open up the restaurant and bar in an addition to the brewer itself.
Initially, the name of the establishment was a bit of a turn off, until those who frequent it, or come from out of state just to eat and drink there, realized the meaning behind it. Now, it’s one the main tourist attractions in Kansa County. 21st century technology and Midwest comfort food meets a 17th century look and feel, wrapped up in a blanket of Twin Lakes Brewing beers and a liquor license.
But Jameson wasn’t done there. The main draw for those that visit from all other 49 states, and even other countries, during the festival, is the exclusive private reserve of raspberry infused spiced rum that TLBC had been privately distilling for years before it was offered. While made public, the process still continues, but the special liquor is only offered for sale by the shot or glass 3 days out of the year during the annual festival.
Justin, Izzy, and the kids had found themselves sitting down to dinner early that evening at The Dining Room, the Kill Devil Inn’s restaurant “wing”, after a day packed with raspberry excitement. Having heard all about the Lumara family, learning as much as one possibly could about raspberries, dealing with screaming kids and family, and hearing about the popular beers and rum coming from Twin Lakes, Izzy took the kids back to Justin’s aunt and uncle’s place, where they were staying that evening, and decided to check out the bar first hand.
What he hadn’t heard was that Jameson, himself, ran the bar, with the help of his old man. Then, of course, he had several waitresses that took orders to those seated at tables or in the loft space overlooking the whole establishment, called The Gallows. The tall but slender man stood behind the bar with a half-smile as he greeted the locals and tourists alike. The success of the brewery and pub had the Reids on local celebrity level status, and Justin was shocked to be seated right in front of him.
Most people with that much success find others to run their business for them, but that wasn’t the Twin Lakes way. The brewer was one hundred percent employee owned, and Jameson still oversaw that, but had other employees he trusted to keep things rolling while he focused on the Kill Devil Inn.
At the same time that Justin realized he had met his first Twin Lakes celebrity, after hearing about them all day, that same man would be one of very few to have recognized a national celebrity.
“Mr. Michaels.” Jameson acknowledge amongst those making calls towards him. Unlike his best friend, Frank Lumara, Jameson’s importance around town had made him think of himself more highly. He’d been riding the coattails of the Lumara family all his life, and his success helped him break away from just being Frank’s friend. His products had won awards. People from all over the world were coming to his place. As far as he was concerned, anyone and anything that came through that door belonged to him, and now another celebrity had sat down at his bar.
“Hey, J-Mo, I’ll take another!” A young female patron called out from The Gallows, and her circle of friends cackled. One of the waitresses seemed displeased with the use of his pet name, and the red-haired, clean shaven, man ignored the situation.
“What brings you to the middle of nowhere?” Without missing a beat, he questioned Justin, and popped open a bottle of Raspberry Wheat for someone just a few seats down. “We get people from all over, but have only had a few celebrities show their faces here.” He chuckled.
Justin nodded. “I’m not a celebrity today. Brought the kids to have fun and blend in, which I was doing a pretty good job of until now it seems. Only one other person has really noticed me, besides my relatives, who still live in town.”
Pointing up to one of several televisions placed around the bar that currently have Major League Baseball playoff games on, the Kill Devil’s owner shrugs. “It’s kind of a sports bar in a way, I’ve been known to have wrestling on once in a while.” An out of towner leaned on the bar with cash, and Reid poured another shot from a special bottle and took the man’s money. “You probably ran into Bill, he’s a bit of, what do you call it, a mark, from that Dillinger character.”
“Yeah, that clears some things up.” Justin admits. “He seemed a little…”
“Drunk.” Reid interjects. “He’s a sloppy drunk, and single-handedly kept me in business for the first year we brewed.” He joked, but there was also no fact-checking how much money the town drunk might have spent on his beer in the early days. “So, who are you related to around these parts? Anyone I might know?”
As if, in a town that size, he wouldn’t have at least heard of either Justin’s aunt or uncle, but again, the self-importance of the man was in full force. “Possibly, but I respect their privacy enough to not expose them to ‘all this’, despite how few people around here may known who I am or not.” Justin extends his right hand across the bar. “Nevertheless, it’s nice to meet you.”
Looking down at the hand and nodding, but not obliging, Jameson scoffs. “Yeah, you too.”
“Babe, those guys over there want to try the Raz, but won’t come to the bar.” The raven-haired waitress who seemed upset at the drunk woman from upstairs earlier approached Jameson. “I told them you don’t make exceptions for anyone, but they won’t listen, can we just call the cops?”
“This early? That’d be a record, even during the festival.” The bar owner laughed. “Just don’t go back over there, they will either get the picture, or just leave.”
The Force of Nature reaches for his wallet. “What do they want, it’ll be on me?”
The obvious couple look towards Justin with a questioning look. “What rock do you live under to not know about the ‘Raz’ you hermit?” Jameson shoots her a look. “Sorry…” She apologizes, as if it’s a common occurrence.
“What’s the damage for their four, plus one for me so I can try this world famous rum?” Slightly annoyed with the conversation, and the condescending tone from the owner and his girlfriend, Justin moves the conversation along.
“Shots are twenty, a glass is fifty, and if you ask for it over ice it’s one hundred, and I’ll drink it for you on your way out the door.” Jameson says, as if from a script he’s read a million times, while he reaches for the fancy looking bottle he’s poured drinks from several times that evening. “And if you were looking to blend in, this is not the drink to go buying people. You’ll stand out more than you did walking in here with that spicy number, who isn’t your wife, like you did earlier.”
Even more annoyed than before, not just as the disrespectful comments, but also with how many times Justin and Izzy had to explain that they weren’t together throughout the day when people would crowd around the twins, he dropped two Benjamins on the bar. “Send four shots to the jackasses who don’t understand that you’re too protective over the stuff to let it leave the bar without paying cash for it first. Don’t say anything to them, just make them think they’ve gotten their way. I’ll take a glass of it for myself, and the rest is for both your troubles.”
No more words are exchanged, the drinks are poured, money is taken, and shots are delivered. Justin keeps his eye on the table of young men, and wait for them to down theirs before he begins sipping on his.
Something catches Jameson’s pale blue eyes, and he scratched the back of his head through his thick, wavy mane. “That a Patek?”
Glancing down at his watch, Justin sneered back. “Yup.”
“2018 Artisan collection?”
“Trick question, they only make 50 Artisan collection watches every five years, and they’re never the same. They haven’t released any since 2015, and won’t until 2020.” Justin wasn’t trying to push his importance back on Jameson at all, but also wasn’t going ignoring his chance to knock him down a peg or two. “The rum’s good, by the way, real good.”
He couldn’t deny him the truth, even if he was an arrogant asshole. The compliment wasn’t important to him, though. “I tried to get on the waiting list for one back in oh-five, but they didn’t even consider me.”
Justin smiled. “I got two of them, gave the second to my business partner.” His eyes never left his glass of rum, but he could feel “J-Mo’s” scowl.
“If you like the rum that much, I’ve got a couple dozen more bottles from this year’s decade old barrel left I’d trade you a few for.” At what he sells drinks for, a few six hundred and fifty dollar bottles of rum was not about to cut it for one of only fifty watches made by arguably the most expensive watch company in the world. Knowing that, the Force of Nature couldn’t hold back his laughter.
“You know better than that.” Justin said, his gaze still had not left his glass.
“What if I told you I still had a few bottles left from our first barrel from twenty-five years ago?”
“You’d need a whole barrel of that stuff and then some to afford it.” After all, it was a watch worth a quarter or a million dollars when he bought them, and probably worth more now after the fact.
While an argument could have easily followed, with Jameson claiming that he’ll have one some day, and trying to belittle Justin in retaliation to himself being belittled. Justin would have followed up by arguing that he was only returning the favor towards the entitled prick for treating him less than everyone else in the bar at that time. All this before claiming that nothing the beer peddler could offer would be good enough to give up his timepiece.
It would have ended poorly, more than likely with Justin tossing down a few hundred bucks and telling Jameson to go put a down payment on a Rolex, something more important came up, and brought the Raspberry Festival and the entire town of Twin Lakes to a halt.
The commotion could be heard moving from vendor to vendor, business to business, and working its way down Lumara Way towards the end of the street where the Kill Devil Inn and Twin Lakes Brewery were located.
Then, a man, like some independent town crier, barged into the bar, and had everyone’s attention immediately. The music stopped, the televisions were muted, and everyone fell silent. “A body was found out by the lakes, they are saying it’s Pearl!”
Up and down Lumara Way, starting early Thursday morning, vendors from all over the area began to line the street downtown with their raspberry inspired goods, blocking off parking for three blocks.
Lumara Farms, just outside of Twin Lakes, supplied raspberries nationally, but more so to the Midwest region of the United States, and their yield helped business all across North Central Kansas thrive.
Clyde Lumara, among the first generation to grow up in Twin Lakes, started the farm from a single plant in the early 1900s in memory of his late wife. Today, Lumara Farms is a fourth-generation family business, and one of the largest berry growers in the United States.
Clyde’s only child, Robert, took over the farm in 1942 when he passed away.
Robert’s only child, John, took over the business in 1984 when he passed away.
John’s only child, Frank, took over the business in 2000 when he retired.
Then, in 2016, over three decades after he spearheaded the first festival, John passed away, and Main Street was renamed to Lumara Way, not only for him, but for the family who helped grow and keep Twin Lakes the thriving community it still is today.
This year marked the 34th annual celebration, and that Saturday had started just like every other for the past thirty-three years, with the parade. The Michaels had planned to attend the festivities that day, and visit family in the area, but with Lindsay feeling under the weather, Justin had the twins to himself. Not being one to rely on others while sick, being more in favor of being left alone, she insisted that her husband and the kids go without her.
Living in big cities her whole life, and rural America seeming more like a myth to her than anything, Izzy, Joey and Remi’s live-in nanny, asked to tag along. Rather than argue having help with the kids, or feeling bad for leaving her with his sick wife, Justin happily agreed.
While he loved spending time with his kids, and Izzy had become apart of their family over the last half year or so, not just as a nanny to his and Lindsay’s children, or even as a pseudo personal assistant, but as a friend, having someone to take the stress away from watching the two rascals by himself was much needed.
He had been training non-stop for weeks, drowned with publicity, and ambushed with questions everywhere he went. Stormm versus Grimm was shaping up to be one of the biggest matches of the year, and for good reason.
They were two of the most tenured roster members currently active in Pure Class Wrestling, and they had been in the ring both opposite each other and on the same side on numerous occasions.
Deadly Intentions would mark the sixth–SIXTH–time they had faced off one on one.
It would be the first time since Trauma 136, over five years ago, that they faced off in singles action.
It would be the first pay-pay-view since their only other match, Collision Course 2, over eleven years ago, that they faced one another on an even bigger stage!
Not only that, but it was for the North American Championship. A title that Justin has held onto for almost an entire year. A title that Phinehas has never held.
The pressure was immense. Not only from everyone else, but from himself as well.
The Raspberry Festival was just what he needed. To see his kids smile and laugh. To be in a crowd of people rather than being in front of one. To just be Justin for a day, and not have to worry about Stormm.
The parade that morning was a hit. Joey enjoyed the shiny paint jobs and revved up engines of all the classic cars, just like Dad. Remi waved back at everyone in the parade that waved to the crowd. But her biggest thrill was the final float. The Raspberry Royalty float.
Each year, a local teen is chosen to be either the Raspberry Princess, or Prince, by the community. Volunteer work, holding a job in the community, and helping raise funds for the festival are all taken into consideration when the vote is held. While some may argue it’s all just based off of names and popularity, that’s far from the case. The prime example, Frank Lumara broke the mold of his family by having more than 1 child, 4 in fact. While his two eldest children, Adelaide and David, had been crowned in the past, his third child Isaac, the lazy one, wasn’t even nominated. This year, however, a Lumara had taken the crown again.
Pearl Lumara was the Raspberry Princess, and Remi squealed when the blonde haired young woman, during a pause in the parade, climbed down off her throne on the final float and personally delivered a toy scepter to her, as was tradition.
Like her older brother before her, David.
Like his older sister before him, Adelaide.
And like their father before them, Frank.
Pearl had become Twin Lakes royalty. She worked for her father in the offices at Lumara Farms throughout the year. She worked extra part time jobs during the summers. She spent her weekends volunteering at the hospital and retirement home. On top of it all, she had raised more money for the festival than any candidate in the past, even surpassing the main fundraising efforts of the city and county.
She was likely the most driven of the fifth generation Lumaras, and despite David’s intentions of taking over from his father, already a better candidate to do so.
To Twin Lakes, Lumara was as big a name as Michaels was to the professional wrestling world, and around every turn, there was someone talking about them. Whether it be wandering underneath vendor tents in the street, or visiting the shops that were staples of the community.
The largest source of information and gossip of Twin Lakes and the Lumara’s, however, was, to some, the main draw of the town. Not just during the festival, but the rest of the year. The Kill Devil Inn.
Proprietor Jameson Reid opened the doors of the pub in 2001 after the financial success of the parent business, Twin Lakes Brewing Company. Opened with a loan from his best friend, Frank Lumara, in ‘93, Twin Lakes Brewing had gotten by on minimal success locally with their small selection of lagers and ales initially. It wasn’t until a few years later that their Raspberry Wheat hit the shelves, and the company started to see a spike in sales that allowed them to expand their space. The brewery grew, and their distribution did as well.
So in 2001, after the marriage with his high school sweetheart fell apart, and years of Frank refusing to be paid back, Jameson paid off the original loan, and used what was left of his savings to open up the restaurant and bar in an addition to the brewer itself.
Initially, the name of the establishment was a bit of a turn off, until those who frequent it, or come from out of state just to eat and drink there, realized the meaning behind it. Now, it’s one the main tourist attractions in Kansa County. 21st century technology and Midwest comfort food meets a 17th century look and feel, wrapped up in a blanket of Twin Lakes Brewing beers and a liquor license.
But Jameson wasn’t done there. The main draw for those that visit from all other 49 states, and even other countries, during the festival, is the exclusive private reserve of raspberry infused spiced rum that TLBC had been privately distilling for years before it was offered. While made public, the process still continues, but the special liquor is only offered for sale by the shot or glass 3 days out of the year during the annual festival.
Justin, Izzy, and the kids had found themselves sitting down to dinner early that evening at The Dining Room, the Kill Devil Inn’s restaurant “wing”, after a day packed with raspberry excitement. Having heard all about the Lumara family, learning as much as one possibly could about raspberries, dealing with screaming kids and family, and hearing about the popular beers and rum coming from Twin Lakes, Izzy took the kids back to Justin’s aunt and uncle’s place, where they were staying that evening, and decided to check out the bar first hand.
What he hadn’t heard was that Jameson, himself, ran the bar, with the help of his old man. Then, of course, he had several waitresses that took orders to those seated at tables or in the loft space overlooking the whole establishment, called The Gallows. The tall but slender man stood behind the bar with a half-smile as he greeted the locals and tourists alike. The success of the brewery and pub had the Reids on local celebrity level status, and Justin was shocked to be seated right in front of him.
Most people with that much success find others to run their business for them, but that wasn’t the Twin Lakes way. The brewer was one hundred percent employee owned, and Jameson still oversaw that, but had other employees he trusted to keep things rolling while he focused on the Kill Devil Inn.
At the same time that Justin realized he had met his first Twin Lakes celebrity, after hearing about them all day, that same man would be one of very few to have recognized a national celebrity.
“Mr. Michaels.” Jameson acknowledge amongst those making calls towards him. Unlike his best friend, Frank Lumara, Jameson’s importance around town had made him think of himself more highly. He’d been riding the coattails of the Lumara family all his life, and his success helped him break away from just being Frank’s friend. His products had won awards. People from all over the world were coming to his place. As far as he was concerned, anyone and anything that came through that door belonged to him, and now another celebrity had sat down at his bar.
“Hey, J-Mo, I’ll take another!” A young female patron called out from The Gallows, and her circle of friends cackled. One of the waitresses seemed displeased with the use of his pet name, and the red-haired, clean shaven, man ignored the situation.
“What brings you to the middle of nowhere?” Without missing a beat, he questioned Justin, and popped open a bottle of Raspberry Wheat for someone just a few seats down. “We get people from all over, but have only had a few celebrities show their faces here.” He chuckled.
Justin nodded. “I’m not a celebrity today. Brought the kids to have fun and blend in, which I was doing a pretty good job of until now it seems. Only one other person has really noticed me, besides my relatives, who still live in town.”
Pointing up to one of several televisions placed around the bar that currently have Major League Baseball playoff games on, the Kill Devil’s owner shrugs. “It’s kind of a sports bar in a way, I’ve been known to have wrestling on once in a while.” An out of towner leaned on the bar with cash, and Reid poured another shot from a special bottle and took the man’s money. “You probably ran into Bill, he’s a bit of, what do you call it, a mark, from that Dillinger character.”
“Yeah, that clears some things up.” Justin admits. “He seemed a little…”
“Drunk.” Reid interjects. “He’s a sloppy drunk, and single-handedly kept me in business for the first year we brewed.” He joked, but there was also no fact-checking how much money the town drunk might have spent on his beer in the early days. “So, who are you related to around these parts? Anyone I might know?”
As if, in a town that size, he wouldn’t have at least heard of either Justin’s aunt or uncle, but again, the self-importance of the man was in full force. “Possibly, but I respect their privacy enough to not expose them to ‘all this’, despite how few people around here may known who I am or not.” Justin extends his right hand across the bar. “Nevertheless, it’s nice to meet you.”
Looking down at the hand and nodding, but not obliging, Jameson scoffs. “Yeah, you too.”
“Babe, those guys over there want to try the Raz, but won’t come to the bar.” The raven-haired waitress who seemed upset at the drunk woman from upstairs earlier approached Jameson. “I told them you don’t make exceptions for anyone, but they won’t listen, can we just call the cops?”
“This early? That’d be a record, even during the festival.” The bar owner laughed. “Just don’t go back over there, they will either get the picture, or just leave.”
The Force of Nature reaches for his wallet. “What do they want, it’ll be on me?”
The obvious couple look towards Justin with a questioning look. “What rock do you live under to not know about the ‘Raz’ you hermit?” Jameson shoots her a look. “Sorry…” She apologizes, as if it’s a common occurrence.
“What’s the damage for their four, plus one for me so I can try this world famous rum?” Slightly annoyed with the conversation, and the condescending tone from the owner and his girlfriend, Justin moves the conversation along.
“Shots are twenty, a glass is fifty, and if you ask for it over ice it’s one hundred, and I’ll drink it for you on your way out the door.” Jameson says, as if from a script he’s read a million times, while he reaches for the fancy looking bottle he’s poured drinks from several times that evening. “And if you were looking to blend in, this is not the drink to go buying people. You’ll stand out more than you did walking in here with that spicy number, who isn’t your wife, like you did earlier.”
Even more annoyed than before, not just as the disrespectful comments, but also with how many times Justin and Izzy had to explain that they weren’t together throughout the day when people would crowd around the twins, he dropped two Benjamins on the bar. “Send four shots to the jackasses who don’t understand that you’re too protective over the stuff to let it leave the bar without paying cash for it first. Don’t say anything to them, just make them think they’ve gotten their way. I’ll take a glass of it for myself, and the rest is for both your troubles.”
No more words are exchanged, the drinks are poured, money is taken, and shots are delivered. Justin keeps his eye on the table of young men, and wait for them to down theirs before he begins sipping on his.
Something catches Jameson’s pale blue eyes, and he scratched the back of his head through his thick, wavy mane. “That a Patek?”
Glancing down at his watch, Justin sneered back. “Yup.”
“2018 Artisan collection?”
“Trick question, they only make 50 Artisan collection watches every five years, and they’re never the same. They haven’t released any since 2015, and won’t until 2020.” Justin wasn’t trying to push his importance back on Jameson at all, but also wasn’t going ignoring his chance to knock him down a peg or two. “The rum’s good, by the way, real good.”
He couldn’t deny him the truth, even if he was an arrogant asshole. The compliment wasn’t important to him, though. “I tried to get on the waiting list for one back in oh-five, but they didn’t even consider me.”
Justin smiled. “I got two of them, gave the second to my business partner.” His eyes never left his glass of rum, but he could feel “J-Mo’s” scowl.
“If you like the rum that much, I’ve got a couple dozen more bottles from this year’s decade old barrel left I’d trade you a few for.” At what he sells drinks for, a few six hundred and fifty dollar bottles of rum was not about to cut it for one of only fifty watches made by arguably the most expensive watch company in the world. Knowing that, the Force of Nature couldn’t hold back his laughter.
“You know better than that.” Justin said, his gaze still had not left his glass.
“What if I told you I still had a few bottles left from our first barrel from twenty-five years ago?”
“You’d need a whole barrel of that stuff and then some to afford it.” After all, it was a watch worth a quarter or a million dollars when he bought them, and probably worth more now after the fact.
While an argument could have easily followed, with Jameson claiming that he’ll have one some day, and trying to belittle Justin in retaliation to himself being belittled. Justin would have followed up by arguing that he was only returning the favor towards the entitled prick for treating him less than everyone else in the bar at that time. All this before claiming that nothing the beer peddler could offer would be good enough to give up his timepiece.
It would have ended poorly, more than likely with Justin tossing down a few hundred bucks and telling Jameson to go put a down payment on a Rolex, something more important came up, and brought the Raspberry Festival and the entire town of Twin Lakes to a halt.
The commotion could be heard moving from vendor to vendor, business to business, and working its way down Lumara Way towards the end of the street where the Kill Devil Inn and Twin Lakes Brewery were located.
Then, a man, like some independent town crier, barged into the bar, and had everyone’s attention immediately. The music stopped, the televisions were muted, and everyone fell silent. “A body was found out by the lakes, they are saying it’s Pearl!”
