Page 18 of Best Served Cold

“Come work at Big Catch,” Hannah says. “I’m the taproom manager. We always need help, and I don’t care who people are sleeping with.”

“Isn’t Big Catch owned by one of those mega-conglomerates?” Briar asks, her face puckering.

“Yes, and that’s why we always need help. No locals want to work with us.” She waves a hand at me. “Or you can go work with your other new best friend, at Buchanan. Or one of the other five hundred breweries in town.”

“Yeah, don’t let that jerk push you around,” I say, getting into the spirit of it.

Briar fiddles with her teacup and then glances up at us. “He’s…well…this is embarrassing to admit, but he’s my dad. This is his latest business venture. He never sticks with them for long, and he’s getting ready to move on. My own business tanked, so I’m supposed to take over the brewery soon. My mom doesn’t want anything to do with any of it. She’s a ‘serious’ writer. That’s what she calls herself, anyway. She thinks the beer thing is demeaning. She’s trying to get him to open a writers’ salon so she can make friends.”

I can feel my bad luck pulling at me, trying to drive me into more verbal missteps. “Oh my God. I’m so sorry, Briar. He seems…uh…he makes really good beer.”

“He doesn’t make any of it,” she says sadly. “That’s all our brewmaster, and he’s always on the verge of quitting. Because my fatherisan asshole. I’m just hoping he hangs on until Dad leaves.”

“You can hire my brother, Liam, if he quits,” Hannah says offhandedly. “He’s a pain in the ass, and the brass at Big Catch are always threatening to fire him. But he’s also really good at brewing beer.” She pauses. “But are you sure you don’t want to tell your dad you were banging Jonah? He’d probably crush him like a tin can.”

Briar shakes her head as she makes another rotation with the teacup. “No. I mean, maybe he would, but it wouldn’t be worth it. I’d never hear the end of it.”

“If your father gives you any trouble at all,” a sweet but sturdy voice says, “you would be more than welcome to come work here, my dear.” Dottie emerges from behind a couple who were standing next to our table. How long has she been listening?

She slides into the now-empty seat beside me, which doesn’t surprise me in the least.

When my great-aunt went on her big vacation, she asked Dottie to keep an eye on Otis and me, as if we were children in need of tending and not two mostly functional adults in our twenties. Dottie has taken that role seriously. She stops by to check on us a few times a week, sometimes with her life partner, Bear—a sweet man with apple cheeks who runs a bakery and always brings over almond croissants because I mentioned offhandedly that I think they taste like Paris.

“Now, girls,” she says, “did I hear you correctly? The young man who was supposed to marry Sophie was secretly dating all of you?”

“And at least one more. Someone he listed as GingerBeerBabe on his phone,” I say. “But we don’t know who she is yet.”

“We could find out,” Hannah says. “There’s only one ginger beer brewery in town. All we have to do is go inside and put up a dartboard with Jonah’s face on it. See who uses it. Bam, we’ve got our girl.”

“You don’t seem very upset,” Briar says to Hannah, frowning as she weaves a loop of golden hair around her fingers. She looks like she’s trying to strangle them.

“Now, dear,” Dottie says. “I want you to remember we all deal with things differently. You’re going through something awful, but I have to say I agree with this young woman here.”

She nods to Hannah, who introduces herself. If she’s fazed by Dottie joining our table without invitation, it doesn’t show.

“Oh, what a lovely name,” Dottie says, reaching over and patting her hand. “Yes, Hannah made a good point. If you don’t teach this young man a lesson, I’m afraid he’s likely to repeat his mistakes again and again. He’ll never become his best self, and goodness knows where it might lead for everyone else. We already have gonorrhea in the French Broad River.”

I flinch. It occurs to me that I’m going to have to get tested for STDs. For all I know, Jonah’s been fornicatinginthe French Broad River, double-exposing himself—and thus me, Briar, Hannah, and GingerBeerBabe—to contagion.

Hannah gives me a slight nod as if reading my mind. “We’ll go together. All of us.”

“The young rake must be exposed for what he’s done, of course,” Dottie continues. “But I dare say that won’t be enough. He needs to know his behavior is deeplyunacceptable. Thatpunch in the face was well and good, but I suspect it won’t teach him anything beyond a moment of humility in the face of a stronger specimen.”

“What do you suggest?” I ask, grateful for the distraction. After I leave this place, I’m going to start struggling. Shock and anger have carried me this far, but I can feel something dark oozing beneath them, threatening to suck me under.

It helps that I’m not dealing with this alone. I trusted the wrong person, but so did Briar, Hannah, and GingerBeerBabe. We made the same mistake, which means it must have been a reasonable one.

Dottie taps her bottom lip. “Once you get in touch with this fourth woman, you should confront him—in a public place, of course. He needs to face up to what he’s done.”

“Oh, I don’t know if that’s a good idea,” I mutter.

“He’ll never learn if you don’t teach him,” Dottie reminds me, tapping the table with her finger. “And he’ll pull other innocent women into his depravity. They always do, dear. But if you teach him a lesson, you’ll be helping himandthose other women. Now, drink up. I’ll read your leaves for you when you’re done.”

She rises from her seat. “That wonderful young man who was here earlier insisted on paying your bill. For every man who needs a lesson, there’s a fine young buck who doesn’t have to be led to water to drink.”

With this, she winks and leaves.

“Do you think she just made an oral sex joke?” Hannah asks, smiling at Dottie’s back. “I like her.”

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