Bee’s Max

When the whisky first sat on her desk, she needed to try it out. Four years after establishing her company and another ten years to secure the property rights to a manufacturing plant, Cerene Gless took hold of the bottle and poured herself a glass. She just looked at it. The she poured herself a glass.

The whisky was warm and honey-like. Maybe that was why she called Bee’s Max Whisky. The flavor of honey maximized when it hit the glass.

She handed a glass to her COO, Madison Street. She cooed.

“Thank you!” She savored the notes and continued to imbibe just enough before she got tipsy.

“You can leave your music career behind you. This is still the best whisky I have ever tasted. Still.”

“I know you’re not a ‘yes-woman’, so I’ll take you at your word.” Cerene smiled and sipped. She surveyed her office and wondered how many more awards her whisky could garner.

“That’s just it,” Madison said.

“What’s that?” Cerene asked.

“We’ve gotta be tough in this business. It’s not in favor of people with deeper tans and curlier hair. That’s why we’ve always gotta come with the best product.”

“Amen.”

“I’m serious.”

“I know you are. It took everything to get this company going. I didn’t sacrifice though. That’s the main thing.”

“Absolutely right! But did you come close to it?”

“Never. And I’m surprised you asked me that, Maddy.”

Madison held up her hands. She laughed.

“I’m just saying, sometimes it seemed as if you would put your best interests second, maybe even third.”

“Goddamn, Maddy. Where is this coming from? Maybe you don’t need to be drinking.”

“It’s not me who is the problem. You have been blessed to be my second-in-command.”

“Blessed? Now, you’re getting mystical.”

“Just get out, now.”