Page 79 of The Fate Factor

Wes scoops the papers into a stack, tapping them on his desk. “Fine. Agenda item two: NEBev. I hope you took some time on your vacation to think about it.”

I snort. “By vacation, do you mean my doctor-ordered time off?”

“Seems to me, if you can work behind the bar again, you can take a meeting with their guys. This isn’t the kind of decision you make at game time.”

I close my eyes and rub at my temples. If he actually thinks I’ve been avoiding thinking about this decision all together, he has less faith in me than I thought.

There was a time when Wes and I had more to say to each other than just this tug-o-war, and if I’m honest, I miss it. The first summer I moved into his dad’s house was tense and awkward—two fourteen-year-old boys whose parents decided we were brothers one day—and I don’t know if it was the arrogance of that age or that we’d both been through it before, but eventually these lines formed. Wes and me on one side, our parents’ chaos on the other. It was a chance to forge our own stability, something that might last even if our new family didn’t.

And it did last. Wes and I have never had much in common on the surface, but he’s the only person from the revolving door that was my childhood who kept me after he wasn’t required to. Part of me wonders if I should agree with him about this just to get a little of that back. But a stronger part of me wishes it was him who felt that way.

“It’s only October, Wes.” I pick up a pen and spin it between my fingers, feeling agitated and like I need to move. “Lay off.”

“I’d love to lay off, butI don’t wannais not a business strategy. You’re acting like a child avoiding his homework.”

“Does that make you the teacher? Because I don’t take assignments from you.” I feel myself resorting to cockiness, and I also feel the way it misses like a boxer catching air with his fist.

“No, you just take all your business advice from me so you can sip beer and pour it.”

My teeth grind together. “We each get paid to do what we do.”

“Sure, until we don’t. It’s called job security, Jameson, and it’s important to those of us who think beyond tomorrow. That’s what this offer gets us. That’s what you’re missing with your stubborn refusal to take it seriously.”

Security. You’d think growing up the way I did, bouncing from house to house, a new step family every few years, security would be a white whale, but I just can’t make myself see it that way. Instead, that security he’s talking about feels like an accusation that I’m in over my head and need to be bailed out.

“I am taking it seriously, Wes. That’s why I sounded so serious when I told you I needed more time.”

“I know this success isn’t something you were prepared for, Jameson, but it’s time to be greedy because there’s no guarantee it will last.”

“Tell that to Sam Adams.”

“When we have Sam Adams money, I’ll stop telling it to you.”

“Is there a third item on this agenda, because I do have to get out to the bar.”

“Actually, there is. I talked to Ronnie today,” he says, and I know immediately where this is going. Damn this tiny little city. “Had to square up for the hops delivery. He said you brought Noel to the farm.”

“And?”

“And you promised she had nothing to do with this, then you bring her to a business meeting.”

I laugh for real this time. “Come on. It was my day off. I go there all the time.”

“I told you we’re not making decisions based on this bullshit fantasy anymore. Fucking hell. Do you even understand the amount of money at stake right now?”

“I know exactly what’s at stake. Look, Noel and I aren’t your concern, and neither is what I do at the farm, or our suppliers. It’s all in my purview.”

“I know you, Jamie.” He crosses his arms over his chest. “You were eventually going to listen to me like you always do. But now you’re digging in even harder, and only one thing has changed.”

Actually, a lot of things have changed. And yeah, I wanted Noel’s help at the start of this, but it’s complicated now. I meant what I said to her that night on her couch, and the last thing I want is for her to wonder if that’s what I’m thinking about when I’m with her now. It’s not. But that’s also none of Wes’s business.

Wes takes my lack of response as agreement, and I let him have it. “Don’t forget you have Sugarloaf next weekend for their Fall Fest,” he says as I push out of the chair. “Thousands of people will come through. Make sure you’re prepared.”

I perk up slightly at the reminder. I love these kinds of events, getting to hand out my beer to people and nerd out about hops and spices with them. It beats ties and sales calls any day. Sure as fuck beats these spreadsheets. I knock my fist on his desk and head for the bar. “It’s handled.”

“Do you want anything to drink?” Noel calls up to me from her kitchen.

“I’m good. Just come to bed.” I’m lying on her bed, still in a towel from the post-work shower I convinced her to share with me.

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