"Show me show me show me," Delia said excitedly, like a child, as Burnie slowly pulled a red velvet bag from inside his coat and slid out a long glass bottle. Delia took it in her hands with such carefulness, like holding a newborn baby, her eyes wide with awe; she finally managed to speak again, "where...where did you-"

"When my wife and I got married, her father gave me that," Burnie said, "he knew I appreciated wine-"

"That's a fancy way of acknowledging your alcoholism," Flo said, standing beside him, her arms folded.

"-so he gave me this as a symbol of welcoming me into the family," Burnie said, "he likes wine himself, so."

"What's so special about this bottle, I don't get it," Preston said, leaning against a nearby tree.

"It's been out of production for a number of years now," Delia said, taking the mantle from Burnie and explaining, "so that makes it fairly sought after. They said they would resume production, but another company bought the people making it, and it's never returned to shelves. You've never once opened it?"

"Nope," Burnie said, "this is a charity event, I figured I'd let someone buy it and-"

"I'll buy it, right here, right now," Delia said, surprising them all.

Burnie chuckled, reached for the wine and took it, slipping it back into the velvet bag for stuffing it gently back inside his coat pocket.

"I appreciate your gusto, I do, but I brought it for the event, Delia," Burnie said, "this thing could bring a lot of money to the charity and-"

"500 dollars," Delia said, pulling her checkbook from her purse.

"...can I have 500 dollars?" Flo asked.

"For what?" Delia asked as she looked through her purse for a pen.

"I don't know. Being cool?"

"I'll pay you twenty bucks to not ask me for more money," Delia said.

"Deal," Flo replied.

"Delia, slow your roll, okay? Let's get inside first, see how the event goes, and then, you know, if you're lucky maybe you'll be the one to buy it," Burnie said as he turned on his heel and started heading indoors, Delia nipping at his trail as Flo and Preston followed closely behind. As they entered the building, it became clear to them that this was an event none of them - even Delia at her finest - was likely meant to be seen at. The Highlands Charity Wine Tasting was always a gala event, a who's who in the wine tasting community. Needless to say, the kinds of people who came to this on the regular were not the kinds of people this group was. Delia was the closest they got, and even she wasn't in high enough social standing to be considered.

In fact, the only way they even managed to get in this year was because several years prior Delia had put them on a waitlist, and their names finally came up, so now was their time to attend. That being said, since they didn't know anyone and weren't formally invited, they were all seated together, not that they minded. They were sort of friends, after all. Heading into the large banquet hall and then through the crowd to the smaller auction area where the charity event would take place proper, Burnie couldn't help but feel just a little bit smug about his addition to the charity. The group headed through the doorway to the smaller auction area, when Flo grabbed Preston's arm and stopped him.

"What?" he asked, sounding annoyed, until he noticed her pointing at something in a neighboring room.

The room in question was one filled with items, and three people around their age all laughing and having shots. Flo and Preston headed inside the room and approached the table, where one of the women turned and smiled at them upon their arrival.

"Hi," she said enthusiastically.

"Hey," Preston said, "what's going on in here? What is all this stuff?"

"This is the tier 2 charity items," the woman said, nodding towards the pile, "this is the stuff that they let the other members fight over if we don't wanna join the bidding war in the main hall."

"What are you guys doing in here?" Flo asked.

"We're playing Sloshing," the man in the room said as he poured yet another shot in each of the girls glass, "see, the rule is that I have multiple unlabled bottles of wine, and whoever guesses correctly gets to pick from the pile. Each correct guess constitutes a prize. You guys want in?"

Preston and Flo glanced at one another, then shrugged, nodding. This seemed more their speed anyway than a stuffy old auction.

                                                                           ***

The auction always had dinner beforehand.

Sitting in the main hall, together at the table, Delia and Burnie were eating their prepared meals; grilled chicken salad with a wine of their choosing to be paired with it. Something light yet filling was the idea, get their brains moving but not get them so bogged down in afterdinner sweats that they couldn't focus on the auction that came next. Sitting there, Delia couldn't keep her eyes from wandering back to the velvet satchel sitting on the table beside Burnie while he ate. As he lifted more chicken and lettuce to his lips, he smirked.

"Hey," he said through a mouthful of dinner, "you can stop the oggling, okay?"

"...I just want it," Delia admitted, "I can't help it."

"Yeah, well, you and likely everyone else in this room," Burnie said, "outbid 'em."

"You know I don't have that much," Delia whispered angrily.

"You offered me 500 just outside," Burnie replied, laughing.

"I was desperate!" Delia snapped back, "Come on Miller, I'll babysit for a year. You and your wife could have some alone time and-"

"Delia, drop it," Burnie said sternly, now sounding genuinely annoyed as he asked her to pass the parmesean, which she did, but only with the level of a child throwing a quiet temper tantrum. Burnie took the container and started to shake it over his plate when someone approached and patted him on the shoulder. They both looked up to see a tall, thin, black man in his early 40s smiling down at him. Burnie grinned and reached up, shaking his hand.

"I was wondering if I'd see you," the man, Marvin, said.

"Yeah, it's good to see you too!" Burnie said, "please, sit down and join us."

Marvin nodded, reached for a chair from a nearby table and dragged it over, seating himself between the two of them. Marvin cleared this throat, then spoke, his voice low.

"You do know what's going on, right?" he asked, causing a look of concern to flash across both Burnie and Delia's faces.

"No?" they replied in unison.

"Some rich son of some famous wine family is offering a certain amount of money for everything here," Marvin said, "this auction is a total sham this year. Everything's already bought and paid for. When people bid, and win because they have to keep the illusion alive, they'll simply be reimbursed after the fact in private. So whatever you might've brought...you might not wanna let them have it."

Burnie and Delia exchanged a glance of panic.

"Well," Burnie said, scratching his cheek, "but...why is-"

"Because the family is cutting an enormous check," Marvin said, shrugging, "just business man."

"Why are you telling us this?" Flo asked.

"You I don't know, so I'm actually just telling him. You're just in proxy. And I'm telling you," he said, now looking at Burnie, "because last year, you informed me about a fake bottle being passed around, and when the opportunity came to me to purchase it, I declined because of the information you gave me, so now we're even."

Marvin stood up and patted Burnie on the shoulder again, smiling, as he took his leave. Burnie and Flo sat there, in almost stunned silence, before Burnie threw down his utensils in frustration, rubbing his face and groaning.

"Can I..." Delia mumbled, "can I buy it now?" she asked.

                                                                              ***

"....white cherry, aged in wood," Flo said, smacking her lips.

A small cheer erupted amongst the little group, as she grinned and walked over to the pile to pick something out. After a moment of searching, she tagged her name on a nice toaster, and then came back to the group, who were now giving Preston a shot of something. Preston took a long sip, then sloshed it around in his mouth momentarily, making a puzzled look on his face before finally swallowing and thinking.

"Uh..." he said softly, "that's...that's definitely Peach...but...there's something else," Preston said, scratching his head, "just gimme a moment."

"Take all the time you need," one of the women said, grinning.

"Peach, but what is it aged in," Preston mumbled, "it's...it's not wood...that would be obvious. It's almost like..." he tasted his tongue again and thought hard, furrowing his brow, "...it's almost like pottery of some kind. Like a large stone vase. It's Clay! Clay, Amphora!"

The group cheered again and Flo and Preston had a high five as Preston went to get his own name tagged on a prize while one of the women took her turn. When Preston returned next to Flo, he grinned at her.

"Nice guess, man," Flo said, "I'm genuinely impressed."

"Yeah, so am I," Preston said, laughing, "I actually only recently learned about that type of aging."

Flo had said she was genuinely impressed, but she wasn't just saying it to be complimentary, she truly was genuinely impressed. Preston had always seemed like the odd one out amongst the four of them, coasting by on daddy's money and mommy's adoration. He didn't work, he didn't have any real kind of responsibilities, and all he did for fun was attend these wine tastings with the group, so Flo had always sort of looked on him as a poser of sorts, but...she was beginning to see he really did know his shit. And she liked what she saw. Maybe they could be better friends, really.

                                                                                ***

"This sucks," Burnie mumbled, the two of them still sitting at their table, having finished eating and now awaiting for the auction to begin.

"This does suck," Delia said, "and dinner wasn't even that good. Isn't there something we can do?"

"I don't think so," Burnie said, "I could pull back my offering maybe, but I'm sure that'd piss people off. Pulling an item from a charity auction? That shows bad blood. I could never show my face at an event again."

"Should've let me buy it," Delia said, and Burnie soured.

"I mean they already knew I was bringing it, so if I then let you buy it, I'd catch flack for that," Burnie said, "...fuck."

Delia and Burnie sat there, trying to rack their brains to come up with some sort of idea they could conjure to save their beloved bottle, but sadly, it just appeared there was no way out. The bottle was going to be 'auctioned' and it would be given to one person without anyone else getting a chance to fight for it. This disgusted them both to an insane degree. It's one thing to write a large check, but to then get gifts in return for it - things that were meant to be bought by anyone willing to pay the price - was just a whole other level of sickening greed mongering.

"What if we wrote a bigger check?" Delia asked.

"...like we have the money, you just admitted you didn't even have the 500 you were willing to pay me," Burnie said, half laughing, "now you're gonna drop a bundle like a rockafeller? Gimme a break, Dels, it's over. We just need to accept it."

Delia sighed and looked at the velvet bag again, and shook her head.

"We can't let this happen," she said.

"We don't have a choice," Burnie replied.

"If we tell everyone ahead of time, then-"

"Delia, NO. Marvin put his butt on the line to tell me, okay? If I start spreading that like the gospel, all three of us will be basically disbarred from the community," Burnie said, "I can't lose access to this hobby, or its events. It's all I've got right now.

Just then they noticed Flo sitting herself in the chair Marvin had been using, seeming slightly tipsy, but grinning like a fool.

"Where have you been?" Burnie asked, like a worried father.

"Playing a game called Sloshing. Preston and I both won a bunch of free stuff; all the secondary items that weren't good enough for the main auction wound up being up for grabs through this game," Flo said, "why are you guys so sad looking? I mean, I know why you are normally, but you look even sadder than usual."

Burnie and Delia looked at one another, an idea forming in their brain.

                                                                            ***

His name was Eric Dwyers, and he was, by all accounts, just in this community for the benefits it brought and not an appreciation of the culture or the wine. He was young, mid twenties, with perfect short blonde hair and a winning smile, the kind of man you often see in underwear ads in high class fashion magazines. But there was one thing Eric didn't have; oh sure, he had his family's money, and with that access to the sleaze and fame it brought, but he didn't have knowledge. He was just there to cash in. That's where Eric differed, and it would prove to be his downfall.

The gang, through Marvin, sought Eric down in a small back room, where he and some girls - clearly women he'd paid to come with him - were seated, drinking and laughing. As they stood outside the room, Burnie sighed and turned to the others.

"Alright," he said, "here's how it does. We don't even want the other stuff, yeah? Screw everyone else. We say anything about this, we'll be cast out anyway, so right now all that matters is the safety of my bottle. Preston, I've heard you're remarkably perceptive when it comes to guessing tastings, so now's your time to shine, buddy."

Preston nodded, though, truth be told, he was a tad scared he wasn't going to be good enough for it. Burnie knocked on the door, and when prompted to enter, he did, the group behind him. Upon seeing Eric, everyone was both somehow surprised and unsurprised. One of the models hanging off his arm, a girl with pale skin and long dark brown hair, looked at them as they entered, and locked eyes with Flo, who quickly averted her eyes.

"Hello," Burnie said, reaching out to shake Eric's hand, "I'm Burnie Miller. Um, listen, this is going to be a strange proposition, I understand that, but I brought a bottle for the auction. It's a bottle I got during my wedding, it's an out of production wine, but upon learning that you were simply buying all the stuff anyway and the auction was a sham, I figured, why not make this a little more interesting."

"I like interesting," Eric said, leaning forward, "I'm listening."

"So," Burnie said, "for all the secondary items, this group out there created a little game called Sloshing, and, uh...we figured you might be interested in doing this for my bottle. Basically we have a wine, you don't know what it is, and you have to guess correctly or you lose the bottle, and we keep it."

Eric nodded, but he was nervous. He was in the company of beautiful women - women he'd paid to come, however - and wasn't about to be made a fool of. He was the son of a billionaire, he wasn't going to take a loss. However, if he refused to participate, he'd look like an outright coward. There really wasn't a good option for him regardless.

"That's...intriguing, certainly," Eric said, "uh...who'll be doing the tasting?"

"That'd be me," Preston said, raising his hand, and Eric smirked.

Eric himself may not be a wine master, but looking at Preston, in his torn jeans and his band-tee, his sunglasses up on his forehead, he figured he certainly had more expertise than this punk did. Suddenly Eric felt much better about his chances.

"Just one bottle? Not best of three or anything?" Eric asked and Burnie smirked.

"Eric," he said, "where's the fun in that? One brings high stakes. Three brings opportunity to be beaten."

Eric nodded, and even Delia smirked. She was impressed by Burnie's ability to call rich peoples bluffs.

"Alright, get pouring," Eric said, standing up and clapping his hands. As they prepared, the girl with the dark brown hair in the yellow dress he'd been seated by stood up and walked across the room, parking herself against the wall beside Flo.

"This is embarrassing," she said quietly, making Flo laugh; she continued, "who are you people?"

"We're the cultural elites worst enemy," Flo said, winking at the woman, who smiled back. After Burnie was done preparing, he handed Eric his shot, handed Preston his shot, and then he and Delia took Preston a bit away for a moment and looked him in the eye.

"Preston," Burnie said, "I've never believed in you."

"Okay, ow," Preston said, "gotta admit, wasn't prepared for that."

"But right now, Flo believes in you. She saw you win at Sloshing multiple times, okay? I know there's a lot to risk losing here, but don't let that bring you down or make you nervous. This kid? He's nothing. He's bupkis. But you? You're the cats pajamas."

"What fucking era are you from?" Delia asked, pulling Burnie away and taking over, looking at Preston, hands on his shoulders and eyes locked with his as she said, "Preston, you can do this. He's just here cause he's paid to be here. He's daddies spoiled little rich boy here to collect, alright? He thinks the world owes him, he thinks everything the light touches is his by birthrite, and tonight, you're gonna prove him wrong."

Preston nodded, grinning. Now THAT was a pep talk, he thought. Preston walked back to the center of the room, standing across from Eric, as Burnie set the velvet bag down on the table between them, indicating it was the prize. After a brief moment of silence, Burnie nodded, and the two men drank. It took a few minutes, both men thinking about it. Erics eyes finally lit up, and he grinned.

"It's definitely just your typical white grape," Eric said, "but..."

He tasted his mouth again, and now began to look concerned.

"It's odd, there's no flavor outside of the wine. Usually the cask will impart some kind of flavoring," he said, "but this is flavorless."

Preston, however, was still thinking, and then he grinned.

"Eric's right," Preston said, "it is just white grape. And it is flavorless. But it's flavorless because it was aged in concret, which allows for micro-oxygenation, which is similar to barrel except that it doesn't impart aromas or flavors."

Burnie grinned, and nodded.

"Sorry Eric," he said, "but Preston's correct."

Eric groaned and sat back down as Burnie picked up his bottle and gave a little salute as he exited the room, Delia right behind him, while Preston waved at Eric.

"It was nice playin' with you," he said, "enjoy your free stuff."

And with that, the gang was out the door, their bottle saved.

                                                                              ***

Sitting in a nearby late night greasy diner, Burnie admired the bottle in his hands, sitting across from Delia, and next to Flo. Delia was seated beside Preston.

"You know," Burnie said, "that was impressive, man. I'm thoroughly impressed."

"I always worry people see me like people see him," Preston said.

"Naw man," Flo said, "you're the real thing. He's just the facade. You actually have knowledge. You just don't dress like an asshole."

As Flo lifted her sandwich to her mouth, Burnie cocked his head and looked at her hand, pointing at it.

"What is that?" he asked.

"It's a phone number," Flo said, "...one of the girls he was with gave me her number."

Everyone grinned, and congratulated her. Burnie then finally looked across the table at Delia, who was visually salivating at the bottle. He sighed and handed it to her.

"It's all yours for 500," he said.

"You got a deal," she replied.

Delia whipped out her checkbook, wrote him a check and then took the bottle. As Burnie folded the check and pocketed it in his coats breast pocket, patting it down proudly, Delia uncorked the bottle and poured herself some in her now empty water glass. She toasted them all, then lifted the bottle to her lips and took a long sip before her eyes bugged out and she spit it into her napkin quickly.

"That's fucking vile!" she shouted, everyone in the diner turning to look at her, "I paid 500 dollars for that?! It's like licking rusty nails!"

"Let the buyer beware," Burnie said, laughing.

"You son of a bitch, Miller!" Delia shouted, as the group laughed at her, which only caused Delia herself to crack a smile as they continued somewhat jokingly bickering into the evening. They were the cultural elites worst nightmare, Flo was honest when she said that, but they were also one anothers only company, and frankly, that was more than enough for them.

What's a little sour grapes between friends.