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“That, that’s $210 a glass, sir.”
“Then, make it a bottle.”
“Sorry, what?”
“A bottle. Do I need to spell it out?”
“Oh, no. One bottle of Pappy Van Winkle coming right up.”
Pierce glanced down at his wristwatch as if he was in a hurry. Meanwhile, the instructor, James, had to bite his lip. Ordering a whiskey worth several thousand dollars a bottle was something out of a movie.
‘I need to keep my poker face…'
Pierce did it on purpose. ...
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