Jennie
About halfway to the distillery, the caffeine kicks in and I feel my senses sharpen. The pea-soup thick haze around my vision clears, and I find myself taking mental note of every bird that zips past our car. Lisa has taken the wheel, with Bambam riding shotgun, and I'm stuffed in the back with one of Bambam's best friends and groomsmen, the noble police chief Cha Eunwoo, a thick-shouldered man with an even thicker beard. When I point out the birds, Eunwoo names them without missing a beat.
"We're here." Lisa announces as she shifts the truck into park.
South Bounder Distillery is built inside of a wooden barn with two twin copper vats standing like guards at the entrance. There's a goat tied to one of the vats, and it chews lazily on the last patch of green grass underneath it.
"Hello!" A woman waves to us from the door, wide smile stretched across her face. She wears a cowgirl hat and a South Bounder shirt with the bottom tied in a knot underneath her breasts, never mind the chill in the air. "Which one of you is the man of the hour?"
Bambam lifts his hand as we walk over. "Right here!"
"Woo! They always take the good ones off the market, don't they?" She flings her arms around Bambam and hugs him before giving Eunwoo the same treatment. "My name's Somi. I'll be giving you all the tour of our little distillery here."
"Lisa." Lisa keeps the bouncy hostess at arm's length and extends a hand instead. "We spoke over the phone."
"Good to put the face to the voice. Come on inside! Warm yourself up on our whiskey."
She guides us inside and I hold back to walk beside Lisa. There is that devious look in her eyes again. "Let me guess, did you request the bustiest tour guide?" I ask under my breath.
"Had to get the boys thirsty." Lisa comments.
I roll my eyes.
Somi leads us through the South Bounder merchandise shelves, hats, shirts, mugs, and lines us up in front of a polished tasting bar. Bottles of whiskey and moonshine are stacked on the back wall next to the images of Jeju pride, race cars and deep sea fishing and pictures of men with long grey beards that extend down to their belts. As Somi enthrals her captive audience with the history of each barrel, I step to the side and pore through my emails on my phone. The reception is crystal clear out here, and I seize my opportunity to send out a couple of time-sensitive emails, one to the baker and the other to the dress designer.
