“I’m pretty clumsy,” I admitted. “We all took Haley’s SUV up here a couple of years back to try and ski. Let’s just say it did not end well.”
She chortled. “I would give anything to see any video clips from that debacle.”
“Can you imagine Chuck on skis?” I laughed at the mental picture of it, the memories flooding my mind. “He’s so big, and you know what they say ‘the bigger they are, the harder they fall.’”
“At least it was in snow. There has to be a little cushion there.”
“Surprisingly little,” I clarified. “Wait, have you never been?”
“I can’t say that I have.”
“Seriously? I thought you’ve done just about every adventure out there.”
“You’ve made an ass out of yourself twice today,” she said, then gave me a small smile to brush off the insult. “I mean that you’ve been assuming an awful lot about me.”
“It just seems from your photos that you’ve been everywhere. You’re so worldly.”
“I still have a lot of world to see,” she reasoned, now pointing her camera away from the mountains to document the desert seeping into the trees. “I’d like to go skiing at some point. It’s on the list.”
“There’s a list?”
“Everyone has a list. Bucket lists.”
“So morbid,” I complained. “It makes the idea of your time running out so dire. Don’t you think people will start to panic the older they get, knowing the amount of items on their list that will go unchecked?”
“Well, when you put it like that, maybe.” She looked at me. “What’s on your bucket list?”
“Maybe I don’t have one. Maybe I don’t believe in them.”
“I’m telling you, whether you like it or not, there are things you want to do before you kick the bucket. Humor me and name a couple.”
I scuffed my boot against the dusty pavement, feeling awkward. It was a lot to reveal, and it made me feel vulnerable. There would’ve been a moment, before, when I would’ve been fine with revealing my most secret dreams to Nadine. It would’ve come naturally, from the same place she coaxed information about my past. You could say what you wanted about her, about the things I hadn’t yet figured out, but she was really easy to talk to.
“I want to have my own beer,” I said. “If not a company, then at least a couple of brews sold around the state, or even the country.”
Nadine had stopped taking photos, and gave me her full attention. I tried not to squirm under that scrutiny.
“What else?”
“I… This is stupid.”
“Bucket lists are lots of things, but stupid isn’t one of them. People love the things they love, and everyone’s entitled to their dreams.”
“Okay. I want to have a locally-made beer in every state. Which means I want to visit every state. And drink a beer while I’m there.”
The corners of Nadine’s mouth twitched. “Okay.”
“If you laugh at me, I’m not going to say another word for the rest of the trip. You’re the one who told me my dreams were valid.”
A cough that sounded suspiciously like a smothered laugh issued forth, but Nadine somehow managed to keep a straight face.
“I would never laugh at you,” she said. “I think that dream is…well, it’s cute, Brody.”
“Cute?”
She nodded, solemn, her mouth twisting to contain her mirth. “Cute.”
“It’s my bucket list, and I demand that you don’t think of it as cute.”
“I can’t make any promises. Come on. What else?”
“No way. Not with you about to lose your shit laughing at me.”
“Aw, Brody.” She was grinning, now, but at least it was rueful. “I know you love beer, but I didn’t know you loved it that much. Maybe you should dream bigger. Have a locally made beer in every country of the world.”
“You know, I never even wanted to travel until I was in the Marines,” I said wonderingly. “I’ve already started on that bucket list item, then, drinking around the world.”
Nadine had been taking photos of me, but she stopped, staring at me through the viewfinder. “That’s good. What else is on that bucket list of yours?”
“Well, I’ve always wanted to get married.” And Jesus, where did that come from, even if it was true? I had to chalk it up to being under pressure and caught up in the moment. Getting married was on my bucket list, but I didn’t need to bring it up around someone I had so many complicated feelings for. I didn’t even really know whether Nadine even liked me enough to tolerate my existence.
“You’re a romantic,” she said. “You ever come close?”
“Close to what?”
“Getting married.”
I shook my head. “Just hasn’t happened for me yet, I guess.”
“It happens for everyone, I think,” Nadine said, the shutter of her camera clicking again and again. I wasn’t really sure anymore what she was taking photos of. “God, I’ve been in love so many times, so sure I’ve found the one, only for the rug to be pulled out from beneath my feet.”
“What about you?” I asked, swallowing hard. Were we at the portion of our relationship where we started talking about loves had and lost? That felt like it was going to be supremely awkward. “So I can assume getting married is on your bucket list? Right up there with skiing?”
She smiled wanly. “Everyone wants to get married.”
“Not everyone. I think Jack’s going to be a consummate bachelor.”
“He’s just feeling himself out. He’ll meet the right person. There’s a right person for everyone.”
“You believe that?”
“Sure.”
“But you said you’ve had so many almost-right people. How do you know for sure?”
Nadine looked off into the distance, but I couldn’t be certain whether she was studying the horizon or the details of her past. “I don’t know that there is a sure way of knowing,” she said, after a too-long period of silence. “You hear about all those ‘love at first sight’ stories and there are so many of them that you have to wonder if there might be some kernel of truth in it. I don’t know. I’m kind of skeptical about it.”
“No stirring feelings of love and destiny when we met on that highway?” I teased her lightly. I’d never been as sure about any of the women I’d dated as I had been about Nadine, and then the bottom had fallen out of everything. Had it just been too much, too soon? We were getting along just fine, now. Of course, there wasn’t anyone around for her to flirt with.
“Oh, you’re special, all right,” she said, giving me a tight look I had a hard time interpreting. “Should we get back on the road? Don’t want to miss your brewery.”
“It’s open pretty late, but we can get going.” I handed her back her helmet, and rewound our entire conversation through my head. What had I said wrong to make her go cold there, at the end? Was it the quip about love at first sight? Had that been a mistake?
“I don’t know much about whether I believe in love at first sight,” I said, throwing a leg over the motorcycle. Nadine climbed on behind me, perched on the seat. “Do you think it’s just like a fairytale, meant to inspire people to believe in impossible things?”
I turned the key in the ignition and revved the engine, giving Nadine a chance to consider her response. I halfway didn’t expect her to answer. It was a stupid question, after all. But as I walked the motorcycle forward, gradually increasing the speed until I could pick my feet up again, she shouted in my ear.
“I think it’s a thing,” she said. “Maybe I’m just jealous of people who have it.”
Okay, so that hurt a little. She was jealous of people who had it, which meant that she hadn’t felt it when I’d nearly hit her with my bike that first night. I’d only asked the initial question as a joke, but now it stung that she hadn’t experienced what I had in that near-accident. Of course, I’d also been spitting mad and shocked, so those extremes tempered any head-over-heels l
ove I might’ve had for her.
“I felt something with you, when we first met,” I called over my shoulder. I had no idea why I was revealing this. Nothing good would come of it. Half of me suspected that it was some hope that she wouldn’t hear me because of the wind.
“What?”
“Nothing,” I shouted. “Don’t worry about it. This wind makes it pretty hard to hear each other.”
“No, I heard you,” she yelled back. “I just didn’t understand you. What did you feel?”
“We’re venturing into stupid territory again,” I warned her.
“In affairs of the heart, nothing is stupid.”
“Well, I can’t be sure it was the heart,” I said. “You nearly killed me, after all, and halfway sent me into cardiac arrest.”
“Sounds like an affair of the heart to me.”
“What I meant was that I felt an immediate connection with you,” I said. “We can probably explain it away with shock, the adrenaline after nearly getting in the collision. I just felt like there was a spark, there. Something we shared.”
“That’s really sweet,” Nadine said. I waited for her to elaborate, or maybe even to reveal the secret yearnings she harbored for me since I illuminated her with the headlight on the bike that night, narrowly missing hitting her. But she stayed silent, her hands gripping my midsection a little harder.
By the time we arrived at the brewery, we’d mastered the art of awkward silences. I was so used to it, it felt like it even harmonized with the wind. I shouldn’t have brought up the idea of feeling something for Nadine the first time I saw her. Of course that would turn things on the awkward side. It just… God help me, it had felt right when it had fallen out of my mouth, like maybe something inside me knew that she needed to hear it. That didn’t make sense, though. None of it made sense.
“So, this is it?” Nadine looked good, the helmet tucked up underneath her arm. It was kind of a natural look for her helmet under her arm, camera around her neck. “No offense, but it doesn’t really look like much.”
“Some of the best places are the ones most people overlook,” I said. “This brewery hasn’t started any real distribution deals, yet. It’s basically brewing and selling its beers right out of there.”
“Makes it exclusive, at least,” she reasoned.
“I’ll be sure to use that argument when I’m trying to get Jack to let me buy a keg or two from them,” I said, smiling. “You ready?”
“Yeah. I’m kind of excited.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. You’re all about craft beer and indie breweries. Something has to be exciting about it to make you so obsessed.”
“The artistry is what excites me,” I said. “And people’s passions for the beers they brew. That’s the special part.”
Nadine’s eyes shone at that, but she didn’t say anything else. I’d called ahead, and the owner of the brewery had arranged for a tour. This was more for Nadine’s benefit than mine; I’d been in so many breweries that I knew exactly what everything was. I was glad, though, that I’d asked for someone to explain things. Nadine was fascinated, pointing out things and asking questions, and I was just happy to tag along for the ride. She took picture after picture of the gleaming tanks, the mash fermenting, the various grains and hops and other ingredients they used to make their beers. Nadine seemed particularly delighted at a corner of the space that looked more like a chemistry lab than a brewery. Our tour guide explained that the test tubes and tiny glasses and pipettes were to test for different qualities in their beer alcohol content, for example.
“It’s like science, but the delicious, exciting kind,” Nadine said, turning to me.
“You should print that on a T-shirt,” I joked to the tour guide.
“Are you ready for the fun part?” he asked us.
“Fun part? This has all been fun,” Nadine gushed. “I guess I never really thought about how much really goes into beer. This is…well, it’s a lot, but it’s really interesting.”
“The fun part I was thinking about is the tasting room,” the tour guide explained. “Follow me.”
For an indie brewery with no distribution plans as of yet, the array of brews on tap and available for tasting was impressive. I worried that they were pulling out all the stops for me, and I couldn’t really guarantee an ability to buy whatever I wanted for the bar. Jack was the one who got the final decision on everything, and he was proving to be slow and stubborn to accept craft offerings in the bar, even if they were from New Mexico brewers.
“Oh my God, taste this pumpkin beer,” Nadine said, pushing her shot glass of beer over to me. “It is to die for.”
“I think I have one of those over here,” I said, laughing at the array of glasses and paper maps and directions in front of us. There were beers of all flavors and varieties your normal collection of IPAs, wheats, stouts, ambers, and the like, and then really off-the-wall offerings, like the pumpkin beer Nadine was obviously loving; malty fall flavors, dessert-themed brews, and high-alcohol beers aged in bourbon, wine, and tequila barrels.
“Yes, but this one is better because it’s mine,” she said, grinning widely at me. Nadine had taken to the high-alcohol beers swimmingly. I’d even caught her downing mine, so the tour guide had smiled and poured me some others, which Nadine had continued to sip.
“Wow, that is good,” I said, finally giving in and taking a sip of her shot glass. I could see the imprint of her lipstick on the other edge of the glass, and something stupid inside of me wanted to press my own lips against it. “This would be perfect for the holidays. I think we could absolutely sell this at the bar.”
“I’d buy it,” Nadine said.
“You know no one who works there ever pays for their booze,” I told her. “You should see Sloan’s bar tab. It’s legendary.”
“You should pick up some kegs of this,” she urged. “Seriously. This is good.”
“Are you sure it’s not the bourbon barrel beer samples talking?”
She giggled. “I’m sure. Those are good, too, but beer drinkers might be intimidated by the bourbon part, and bourbon drinkers don’t care for beer.”
“Somewhere there’s a market of buyers for that beer,” I said wistfully. “Just not at Horizon.”
“But the pumpkin beer is just fun,” she said. “And very festive.”
“I’ll text Jack,” I said, pulling my phone out, but Nadine laid her hand on top of mine and stopped me.
“Why do you need to text Jack for every little thing?”
“It’s his bar, first of all,” I said. “Jack gets to decide what we sell there.”
“Yeah, but he isn’t even a craft beer fan.”
“One of his few faults,” I agreed. “But he knows the town, and knows what works.”
“Okay, I get that he’s got a business plan or whatever,” she said. “But what if the bar could be something completely different and new?”
“I don’t know that different and new is really what the Horizon MC Bar needs, actually. It’s the only bar in Rio Seco. People come in because it’s consistent.”
“I think people would keep coming regardless of what’s on the menu,” she said. “But I think even more people might come if you did some different kinds of programming and marketing. What about a Mexican beer night? You’d feature a bunch of imports, maybe have some swag to give away, like stickers or beer holders.”
“What about the people who don’t like Mexican beers?”
“You’d take careful note of them so you could remember they are losers and not to be trusted.” Nadine pulled a face. “Seriously? Who doesn’t like Mexican beers? They’re delicious. Squeeze some lime on that, add a dash of salt, and you’re in heaven. No beach necessary.”
I laughed at her. “I’m afraid we’re going to have to assume there are some customers who aren’t to be trusted at the bar.”
“It’s not like you wouldn’t have anything else to drink,” she said. “You could just offer spec
ials on the featured beers to encourage people to try them. If the regulars wanted their gin and tonics or whatever they drink, they could still order them. They’d just be missing out on being cool, that’s all. Oh! You could have special hashtags and filters for the themed nights, and I could do like a photo booth with different props, like maracas and sombreros, things like that.”
“Have you been thinking about this for a while, or what?” I asked her, a little floored. “That’s actually a good business plan.”
“What do you mean, ‘actually’?” Nadine frowned a little at me. “I have good ideas.”
“I’m not saying you don’t,” I said quickly, looking to head off any arguments. We were dealing with awfully high alcohol content, even if they were no bigger than a shot glass each. There were just so many shot glasses to choose from. I was going to have to dial it back if we were going to make it back to Rio Seco tonight. “I’m just saying that it’s a surprisea wonderful one that you’ve been thinking about these kinds of things for the bar.”
“I’m sure you’ve thought about them, too,” she said.
“Sure I have. My only problem is Jack.”
“He should take more of your ideas seriously. You have really good ideas, and you’re a good source of knowledge on beer. That’s important. You know more about beer than the owner of the bar does.”
“But since he still owns the bar, I have to run all purchases by him.”
“See, that just tells me that he doesn’t trust you, and that’s offensive. You’re good friends. You know what you’re doing. He should let you take the reins on that. He’s the one who doesn’t want to do any real work at the bar.”
“He doesn’t trust me on beer because one time I told him I’d get him a glass full of his favorite cheap beer and hit him with an IPA instead,” I said. “I thought he was lying about only liking crap beer instead of craft beer, but he really hated it for a long time after that.”
Nadine was gasping for breath while she laughed hard. “Oh, Brody. That’s terrible. You can’t just surprise someone like that. And with an IPA of all things? You could’ve given him a blonde ale, or something.”
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