It's in the Label

“Abysmal,” the brunette sneered through pursed cherry lips. “Grotesque, appalling, laughable even… the synonyms go on and on,” she chuckled, flicking her wrists dramatically. The movement swung her bracelets into a rattle, creating a sharp chime that she thought punctuated the following pause nicely.

Yet she kept her honey eyes downcast, still pretending to scrutinize the corked bottle. A smug grin, which she fought unsuccessfully, played at the corners of her lips. The silence lingered a second longer, until intuition suggested that she, successfully, provoked just the right amount of anticipation. Continuing the dramatics, she slowly turned her attention to the seat across from her, batting her eyelashes ever so gently as she did so.

“Oh sh…,” she accidentally muttered, swallowing the rest of the expletive with a quick inhale. A palm to her chest, she straightened her spine and squared herself for a reaction.

Intuition had done her wrong.

The man across from her, dressed boldly in a navy trimmed fit suit, sat stone-faced. His ears shone a bright red which quickly creeped across his face. The color highlighted a pulsing vein that bulged above his left brow and greatly diminished the quality of his features.

He was, objectively speaking, handsome on her first account. But now, even his teal eyes narrowed beadlike on this contorted crimson canvas. His well-groomed auburn hair and trimmed beard seemed to bristle under the building pressure, framing his enlarged head wildly.

Was he choking? No. He was holding his breath.

Such an oddity, she thought. In this pre-tantrum state, he seemed to puff up like a hedgehog… no, a porcupine. An ugly porcupine. What did she say to warrant such a reaction?

Contrasting his bright inflated head, her date’s knuckles stuck out white against the burgundy tablecloth where he clutched the table’s edges. They latched on, tethering him to the conversation. Although the very next word could send him rocketing out of the restaurant like a helium balloon.

A balloon or a porcupine? Make up your mind Denise, she noted inwardly. Then again, the seconds may now be minutes, and ending the date with either a popped balloon or an asphyxiated porcupine sounded horrific. Evasive actions were in order.

Unfortunately, Denise is direly blunt.

“Well it’s at the very least subpar,” she back peddled, downsizing her earlier critiques.

Subpar was better. Better, but not great. Another note to consider in the future, but at that moment Denise readied for a response.

With tight lips, pressed against clenched teeth, he grumbled almost rhetorically, “And what makes it subpar?”

Oh, thank god, she thought ignoring the gruffness of his tone. He breathed.

An almost audible wheeze escaped from his head. However, he kept his lips clasped so tightly that it must have escaped from his ears. Thoughts of deflating porcupine balloons interrupted Denise’s fledgling plans to escape.

“Joe…”

“Joseph,” he interrupted.

“Joseph,” she corrected, her hands now pressed together in patronizing manner of appeasement. She took a deep breath, brushed one of her brown coils away from her brow, then continued.

“It’s an image of a dolphin balancing a wine glass on its nose encircled by sunflowers. What more needs to be said,” she declared.

Joseph sat crossed arm, leaning back in his chair, and glared at Denise. She in turn leaned forward across the table matching his bravado.

“It’s an individualized crest. Made specifically for this vineyard,” he announced.

“Alright. Great. But don’t you think it’s a bit…”

“Artistic,” he interrupted again.

“Much,” she retorted.

She cocked her head to the side, causing her curls to bounce, and rested her chin on her fists.

“You asked for my honest and professional opinion as the director of a marketing firm. I obliged. Honestly, when you handed me the bottle, I thought it was a joke. The person who designed that crest should be fired.”

“I designed it,” Joseph whined. Oh no, his anger gave way to hurt. Denise was not ready for hurt. A soured date followed by a quick quarrel and dramatic exit made for a better escape.

Anyway, just moments before he looked ready to explode. She was expecting something-discourse, a debate maybe, at the very least a defense. But no, Joseph crumpled up onto himself, wrinkling his fine Italian suit, and deflated slowly. All that build up for nothing. And now she needed a new exit plan- one that was a bit more sentimental.

“Oh god. You weren’t fired, were you?”

“It’s hard to get fired when you’re the boss,” he mumbled slouched over in his chair. “I created the crest for my vineyard.”

They sat there in a moment of silence. Joseph continued to shrink in on himself and Denise continued to search for words. There were no dramatic chimes or expressive gestures. Instead they fidgeted awkwardly. But at least they were on the same page.

Finally, a lanky waiter strutted over to refill their water glasses. As the sound of swirling water filled the unbearable silence, Denise’s intuition kicked in again.

An idea. Oh god, please let it work, she thought.

“Sebastian?” Denise inquired. “Please bring over two distinct bottles from the chief’s list of preferred red wines. Something with a unique label. Anything really that catches your eye.”

The waiter hesitated for a moment, probably weighing whether to ask for more specifics, but once he saw Joseph plopped over and sulking, he rushed to the cellar. He returned to the table carrying a bottle in each arm then carefully placed them on the table.

“Thank you, Sebastian. Please leave them corked,” Denise requested kindly. “Joseph,” she stated. There was no response.

“Joe,” she asserted. His head perked up quickly, but there was a dull look in his eyes.

“Now, look at this Australian red. The label is split in fifths. Two fifths black and three fifths blue. Black for the ground, blue for the sky. Are you keeping up?”

Joseph looked over to Sebastian with his mouth agape then returned his attention to Denise.

“In the center is a picture of Uluru. The label is iconic, simple, and as you like to say, artistic. Wouldn’t you agree?” she asked. Again, Joseph stared at the waiter and then her in silence.

“Sebastian,” Denise whispered with a help me look. She picked up the second bottle, which sported a white label partially covered in a black stylized print and gestured toward the waiter. Hopefully, he would play along.

“As a server, nay as a person, what’s your opinion of this label?”

“Clean, modern, and overall, aesthetically pleasing,” he huffed wishing the two would conclude their antics and let him return to his other tables.

Joseph, suddenly roused, shook his head in disgust. “But there’s no originality! Sebastian! Now what is your opinion of this bottle,” he demanded, jostling his label into Sebastian’s face.

Sebastian, annoyed and unimpressed, took a step back.

“It’s fine,” he hissed.

“Okay!” scoffed Joe, ignorant of his tone.

“Amateurish really,” Sebastian continued with one brow raised.

“Amateurish! Its hand drawn! Completely unique! And look at that dolphin,” Joseph bellowed while practically jumping from his seat.

“Well, actually don’t you think the dolphin looks kind of sad,” sneered Sebastian. He honestly wasn’t being paid enough for this.

“Sad! He’s having fun- look he’s balancing a freaking wine glass on his nose!”

“Looks like animal abuse to me. Haven’t you seen Blackfish,” Sebastian smirked in reply.

“My god!” Joseph almost shouted, “it’s a freaking cartoon!”

“Exactly,” Denise interjected attempting to deescalate the situation. “It’s a cartoon. And I apologize Joe, but Sebastian was on point. It’s a poorly drawn cartoon on a what you described as a high end bottle of Merlot. Thank you Sebastian and I’m so sorry we’ve taken up so much of your time. Please the bill.”

Sebastian disappeared before another word was spoken. Joseph, now silent in defeat and ashamed of the commotion he caused, stared at Denise astounded. He dropped back into his chair without breaking eye contact with her.

“Thank you, Joseph, for another round of silence. Don’t worry about the bill, this date, rather consolation, is on me. We won’t have to do another one of these again,” she announced pulling a credit card from her wallet.

“Oh god no, unless…”

“There’s no unless here Joe,” she interjected. “This is not up for negotiations.”

“Wait hear me out for a second. I’d like to acquire your services,” he whispered as a dark blush deepened the color of his face.

These weren’t the words most people hear on a first date. They were as out of place as Denise felt sitting across from Joseph. And yet he still just said them.

“Hire me? Joseph, you barely accepted my free advice,” Denise snorted. It was taking all her strength to hold in a laugh.

“I know. But you’re right about this. I apologize. Please reconsider,” Joseph pouted.

At this point most people would have paid and left. Not Denise. She was too intrigued by Joseph’s proposal. I mean it’s not everyday you get to work for a porcupine or deflated balloon.

“Well that depends,” she hummed, breaking off to add a level expectancy.

“Depends on what?”

“First, pay,” Denise answered bluntly.

“State your price and I’ll meet it. Also, dinner is on me,” Joseph stated as he opened his wallet.

“Second, Sebastian. His tip better make up for all of that,” Denise instructed while waving her hand in the direction of an all too close past.

“Already done,” Joseph replied, turning a brighter red.

“Third, design. No sunflowers.”

“Done.”

“And the dolphin?”

“Nonnegotiable”

“Fine, I can work with that. And…”

“And what,” he interrupted.

Denise raised a single brow stopping Joseph immediately.

“I’m sorry for that,” he mumbled.

“And lastly,” she continued, “the taste.”

The last stipulation caught Joseph by surprise and forced a smile. He uncorked his bottle slowly and poured Denise a glass. She swirled the vibrant deep purple mixture, took a single inhale of its fragrance, and then sipped from the glass of Merlot.

“It’s delicious.” Truly astounded, she stared at Joseph in disbelief.

“Not garish?” he asked teasingly.

“I don’t believe that was one the words I used earlier,” she replied with a grin. “Okay Joseph. You have yourself a deal, but I have to ask, why the dolphin?”

“I like dolphins,” he smiled taking a sip from his glass of Merlot.