Trouble Brewing

by Suzanne Baltsar

  She placed a steaming mug of coffee down in front of me, along with a plate of brown goo. She sat next to me with the same breakfast of what looked like an overcooked egg-cake-thing. We both poured syrup on it, but I doubted it would help.

  I took a bite, and she raised her eyebrows expectantly. I chewed and swallowed what was essentially burnt banana.

  “How is it?”

  “Not good.”

  She ate her own bite and cringed. “Yeah. Not good.”

  We threw away the “pancakes” and settled on a breakfast of Cheez-Its and grapes with the promise that I’d go to the store real soon.

  I gave the remote to Piper to pick what she wanted on Netflix, and we ended up watching some show called Gilmore Girls. I didn’t understand the humor, but the mom was hot, so I couldn’t complain.

  After the first episode, I lifted Piper’s feet off my lap and took her mug to refill. That’s when I noticed the time. Almost noon. I had my dad’s public announcement at four. Unfortunately.

  “Hey, I’ve got this thing I have to go to today.” I pressed the brew button on the Keurig.

  She turned to me, one eyebrow raised. “Are you being evasive on purpose?”

  “No. It’s my father’s coming out.”

  She took her mug from me when I sat down. “Oh, the congressional running thing.”

  She said it so breezily, I wished that was how everyone treated it. “I have to be there by three-thirty.”

  “Oh.” She sat up. “Okay, well, I’ll just—”

  “I didn’t mean that you had to leave.” I fixed her feet back on my lap, forcing her to lie back down. “I said it because we’ve only got another three hours to get a couple more episodes in.”

  “That means you like it? You’re hooked on Gilmore Girls?”

  I wrapped one hand around her ankle. “It’s all right.”

  We stared at each other, and an idea popped into my head for a millisecond to ask Piper to go with me today. But that was stupid. I didn’t even want to go. Staying in our bubble was much more appealing.

  But something flickered in her eyes, like she was waiting for me to invite her. Or maybe she wanted me to press play on the next episode. Either way, I wanted to keep Piper to myself a little while longer. The next episode began, and I tried not to notice the clock as it ticked closer and closer to three—the absolute latest I could shower, change, and drive to the auditorium in time. But before I knew it, time was up.

  I turned the television off and cleaned up the kitchen as Piper went back to the bedroom. She returned a few minutes later in her outfit from last night.

  “Gimme like twenty minutes to get ready, and we’ll go, okay?”

  She pointed her thumb behind her to the door. “I was going to call an Uber.”

  “No way. I’ll drop you at home.”

  “You don’t have to.” She tapped on her phone. “You’ve got stuff to do. Don’t worry about it.”

  “Piper.” I held on to her shoulders, forcing her to focus on me. I didn’t know why she tended to fight me on simple issues like letting me drive her home instead of a total stranger. I could only guess she still wanted to keep her guard up, stay strong and independent, but what she didn’t understand yet—and what I supposed I had to prove—was that I didn’t want her to change. Her fierce self-determination was one of the first things that had attracted me to her. I only wanted to spoil her a bit, treat her the way she deserved, and give her a ride home, for God’s sake.

  “I picked you up, I’m going to drop you off.” She opened her mouth to argue, but I cut her off before she could. “Ten minutes. Ten minutes, and we’re out the door.”

  I kissed her to keep her from saying anything. “Go sit your pretty little butt down.”

  I waited until she was seated to head to the bathroom. I got into the shower, thinking about what made her so antsy to leave. After what she’d told me about Oskar, I could understand why she’d be hesitant to get serious with someone, but it didn’t seem to me like either one of us had a choice in the matter.

  Our paths in life seemed destined to cross because of the choices we’d made. But as much as it felt right to me, I had to tread lightly. I wasn’t going to force her to move any faster than she wanted.

  I skipped shaving, already hearing my mother’s complaint, and changed into something suitable for the son of a senator. After a drag of my hands through my hair, I was ready to go.

  Piper looked up from her phone when I walked into the room. “You clean up nice.”

  “Thanks.” I reached for my keys and wallet.

  “Keeping the glasses on is a good touch. Very academic. Sexy.”

  I pulled her to me, laying a kiss on her that seemed to go on for hours because my hands had a mind of their own. Her tongue tasted faintly of coffee while her hair still smelled like my sheets.

  When we finally broke apart, I cleared my throat and shook reality back into my head. “Kissing you is dangerous. Especially when I have to be somewhere in”—I checked my watch—“eighteen minutes.”

  She opened the door. “You started it.”

  I nodded after her, taking in the view of her body as she walked down the hall. Yeah. I totally started it.

  CHAPTER 17

  Piper

  After my date-turned-sleepover with Blake, I hadn’t seen him all week. We’d talked a lot via text, with one phone call Monday night. We were still on the phone when Bear and Connor showed up at his house to watch whatever game was on. I ended up on speaker phone with all of them, learning the ins and outs of baseball.

  Bear had asked when he could try some of my new beer, but I was stuck on the recipe. I needed some clarity, and to drink some good beer that wasn’t my own, so I decided to check out a brewery in St. Paul, and asked Blake to tag along.

  And truth be told, when he pulled up to my house I was at the door waiting. I’d missed the guy. His model look was off the charts, and I couldn’t be happier for the warm weather because Blake in a snug V-neck T-shirt had me looking forward to summer.

  I stumbled mid-step as the thought hit me. Blake. All summer. I wondered if we’d be together. I hoped so.

  “All right?” he asked, meeting me with a hand on my elbow when I staggered.

  “Fine.” I didn’t think it would be the coolest move to describe my mind ramble about whether we were an official thing or not.

  “You look stunning, as always.”

  The denim shorts and loose top didn’t quite scream stunning to me, but I loved that he always complimented me. He made me feel confident even in ripped shorts I’d cut up myself from a pair of jeans.

  “I was thinking the same thing about you,” I said as he kissed my cheek.

  He tugged on my ponytail. “That why you tripped? Blinded by my exquisite good looks?”

  I scratched at the couple days’ worth of scruff on his jaw. “Yes. Obviously.”

  “Careful,” he said, opening the passenger door for me. “You’ll break an ankle that way.”

  We set off toward St. Paul with the Avett Brothers as our soundtrack.

  “Tell me how the thing went last weekend.”

  He opened up his window and hung his elbow outside. “Fine,” he said, easing the car onto the highway. “We were at this middle school auditorium since he’s running on an education platform.”

  “That’s good.”

  “I guess. But I’ve learned just how many of your principles you have to give up in order to get a little bit back.” He snuck a brief glance my way. “Politics is all show.”

  He scrubbed his hand over his mouth and took a deep breath as if it was difficult to even remember the event. “The campaign manager is an asshole, and even more condescending than my father, which is a feat.”

  I hadn’t met his father yet, but from everything Blake had said about him, he wasn’t a nice guy. It was a wonder Blake was.

  “The media and a couple of reporters were there along with about two hundred faithful constituents. Dad sa
id a couple of words, thanked his beautiful family, and shook a bunch of hands. And I got out of there as soon as I could.”

  I tried to find the bright side. “That must’ve been exciting, though . . . kind of?”

  His bored expression was the answer. He reached for my hand, and we dropped the topic, leaving the rest of our drive in silence.

  Once Blake parked, we walked into the brewery, and I was immediately overcome with the scents of yeast and wood. The walls and floor were cement, while the bar and tables were wooden, most of them covered in stickers. Four one-hundred-barrel fermentation tanks were in the back, separated from the tasting room by a waist-high wall that patrons placed their glasses on.

  After perusing the chalkboard full of options, I’d found a seasonal ale that sounded pretty good, and I motioned for the bartender with an out-of-control beard. He introduced himself as Dominic and took our orders.

  He handed me the tall, cool glass of beer, and I placed my index finger on the bar. “How long has this place been open?”

  Dominic’s face scrunched up as he thought. “We opened a little over three years ago now.”

  Once he had Blake’s pint glass filled up, I asked another question. “Are you a brewer?”

  “No, I help out here on weekends. My brother’s the owner.”

  “Oh, is he around?”

  Dominic nodded. “You want to talk to him? I think he’s checking on one of the gauges in the back.”

  Once Dominic’s back was turned, I faced Blake, who was sipping his lemon IPA. “How is it?”

  “Yours is better.”

  I pinched his side. “You’re just saying that. Don’t do that. I want the truth.”

  “It is. Taste it.” He handed me the glass, and I sipped.

  It was a little too fruity for my taste. I liked the bitterness of the hops to come through more, but it was still good. I handed him my pale wheat to try in return.

  “It’s good.”

  I rolled my eyes, guessing how he would finish the statement. “But mine is still better?”

  With his focus on the graffiti on the walls, he said a quick “Yeah.”

  I followed his attention around the room. It was cool, grungy, a little bit dirty, but in the best way possible.

  “Man,” I said, imagining my future, “I want this to be me.”

  He pointed to the two burly brothers. “You want to be that?”

  “You know what I mean.”

  He laughed. “It will be you.” He threw his arm around me and kissed my temple. “It has to be. You were meant to do this.”

  Deep down, I agreed. I felt it in my blood—weird to admit, having alcohol in my blood—but I was good at this. I loved it and had a passion for creating something that brought people together. As I scanned the room, I noticed everyone laughing, flirting, high-fiving, talking with heads bent together around pints of beer.

  The idea of that possibly being my beer lit my soul on fire.

  Just as I began to describe what I pictured for my own brewery, Dominic approached us with his brother, who introduced himself as Travis.

  “First time here?” Travis asked.

  “Yeah, but I’ve heard a lot about this place so I wanted to check it out for myself,” I said.

  Travis skimmed his hand over his long ponytail. “Happy to have you. What do you think of the ale?”

  “Good.” I nodded and took another sip. “Perfect for summer. And the tiny hint of pepper on the finish is nice.”

  “Caught that, huh?” Travis grinned. “Good palate you got there.”

  “Thanks. I brew, too.”

  Travis’s smile positively lit up. Within the brewing community, we loved to meet one another, talk and learn, help one another out. “Oh, yeah?”

  “Yeah. I opened up my own company a year ago. I’m in my garage for now, but working my way up. Hopefully . . .” I twirled my finger around in a circle indicating I wanted what he had.

  “How’s it going so far?” Travis put his elbow on the bar.

  “Good.”

  “Better than good, right?” Blake said to me, then to Travis, “Her stuff is great. She’s got this amber ale that’s selling out at my gastropub.”

  Travis’s eyebrows rose. “Your bar?”

  “The Public.” Blake nodded and moved his hand up my back, to my shoulder, and back down. Clearly possessive and proud. “Her beer’s a hit.”

  Travis’s smile faltered, and my stomach plummeted. “What’s the name of your brewery?” he asked me.

  “Out of the Bottle.”

  He stood up, putting two and two together, and wagged a finger at me. “I’ve actually heard of it. Pete’s Tavern has your stout.”

  I swallowed down the sour taste in my mouth, hoping his next statement would be something complimentary.

  “And your boyfriend is selling it, too? That’s convenient.”

  My palms instantly began to sweat, my heart beating wildly in my chest. I had to defend myself. My company. “No. That’s not—”

  Blake piped up next to me. “Me having her beer has nothing to do with it selling well. No matter where it is, people are going to buy it because it’s damn good.”

  Travis huffed at me, his thumb pointing toward Blake. “He your marketing director, too?”

  I squeezed my eyes shut, praying for Blake to shut up and Travis not to jump to conclusions. This, right here, was exactly what I was afraid of.

  “Listen, sweetie,” Travis started in the most condescending tone known to women, “craft brewing is about what you can do with yeast and grain, not about who you sleep with. That won’t—”

  My vision and hearing went hazy as my body caught up to the spinning wheels in my head. Too many emotions to process coursed through my veins and my words failed me.

  Blake’s feet hit the floor with an audible thud when he stood up. “Whoa. Whoa. There’s no need to talk like that.”

  I held my palm up to his face once my brain kicked in again, filled with rage. I could fight my own battles. “Travis, I know about brewing. I respect the craft. I spent two years in Germany learning it. Blake has nothing to do with how I got my start. That’s all me.”

  “Yeah, well it seems good fortune has come by you pretty quickly. You’ve got your boyfriend in one bar, wonder what you did to get your account with Pete’s Tavern. Hmm?”

  I gasped. No one had ever accused me of sleeping with someone to get what I wanted, and it hurt more than I’d thought a false accusation could. This was exactly what I’d been afraid of. I’d done the one thing I said I wouldn’t: gotten into a relationship with someone I worked with.

  My jaw clenched shut with unsaid words, my eyes stinging, and Travis snorted in disgust. He spun away from me. Conversation over.

  I shook away my unshed tears and turned from the bar, making my way out of the brewery as I heard Blake cursing at Travis behind me. Gray skies poured down rain, and I ran to Blake’s car, my tears mixing with the falling drops.

  I uselessly yanked on the locked door handle, desperate to get out of the rain and away from this place.

  “Piper!” Blake called to me before his footsteps pounded on the pavement, and a moment later, he was next to me. “That di—”

  I whirled around, my anger fixated on him. “I knew it! I knew this would happen!”

  He blanched, but I didn’t know why. I’d warned him. We had talked about this exact thing happening. “You knew I wanted to do this on my own, and that if we got together, people would think otherwise. And now, here I am, in the freaking pouring rain while another brewer thinks I slept with you and God knows how many other people to get my beer in their bars. Are you happy? Are you happy now that we’re together and my reputation is ruined?”

  “No, I’m not happy,” he said, “but you have to know what he said isn’t true.”

  “It doesn’t matter!”

  “What doesn’t?”

  When he reached for my hand, I shoved him away. “What went down in there was emb
arrassing. He’s a colleague, and he accused me of sleeping my way through the brewing community. When word gets out, my career is going to be ruined.”

  “Your career?” He ran his hands through his wet hair before continuing. “Your career is your beer. And your beer is better than anything in that asshole’s place.” He held my shoulders, not letting me escape whatever pep talk he had prepared, but I didn’t want to hear it.

  I shook my head, eyes on the ground, too furious to look at him.

  “He’s probably jealous you’ve made a name for yourself in such a short time. It doesn’t matter that I’m your boyfriend. It wouldn’t matter if you dated the owner of Anheuser-Busch. It doesn’t change the talent you have.”

  I backed away from him. An hour ago, I would’ve loved to hear those words from him, referring to himself as my boyfriend. But now I felt sick to my stomach.

  “Come on,” he said, finally unlocking the car. He opened the passenger door, tucked me in, and sprinted around to his side. We were both soaked, and I was miserable.

  “Look at me.”

  After a minute, replaying the confrontation in my head, the fire had left me, only to be replaced by burnt ashes. My insides were cold and defeated, my fight gone. I lifted my eyes to Blake’s, and he ran a hand over my dripping jaw.

  “Can you honestly tell me you think you don’t deserve what you’ve gotten in your career so far?”

  I didn’t answer. In the immediate aftermath of what had just happened, I felt like an imposter.

  “You really think what you make isn’t good enough to stand on its own? You think I only bought it to get you in my bed? Because, quite frankly, if you do, not only are you insulting yourself, but you’re insulting me.” His tone was biting, his words emphasized with stiff flicks of his hand. “Don’t forget, I put everything I had into my bar, and I wouldn’t do anything to damage that, including choosing to serve subpar alcohol.”

  I rubbed my temples. I believed in myself and my product, but God, it was so hard to start out. And with this footnote of Blake attached to me, I didn’t know if I could recover. “This was a bad idea.”

  He put his hands on the steering wheel. “Yeah, coming here was a terrible idea.”