Page 6 of Good as Gold
“Yeah,” he agrees. “Happy to have you.” But his eyes don’t look that happy.
“How about I buy a round?” I offer. “Can I crash on someone’s couch tonight? Tomorrow I’ll find an Airbnb or something.”
“The first beer is on the house for designer Jesus,” Benito says from behind the bar. “You look like Ralph Lauren in that suede jacket. Is ale okay?”
“Sure. Pour me something interesting.” I ignore the dig about my clothes. I like nice things—it’s not a crime.
He passes me a pint glass of a deep amber ale. “This is the original Goldenpour by our friends at Giltmaker. The foamies drive hundreds of miles for a pint.”
I’ve read about this. After years of making beer as a passion project, Lyle Giltmaker hit the bigtime. “This beer won an award, yeah?”
“Allthe awards,” Alec says. “It’s like a fuckingcult. There are lines down the block on tasting days at their brewery. Two pack maximum at the store—when they’re not sold out.”
“That’s pretty impressive,” I say, taking a sip. And the ale is terrific—really fruity and interesting. It’s easy to see what the fuss is about.
“Hey, did you hear about the divorce?” Alec asks me.
“Saw it on social media,” I say. Not like I could miss it. Lyle Giltmaker’s wife made a big post when she left him.
After forty years of trying to make it big, the brewery is on top of the world. All that time I’ve been hoping that success would make it possible for Lyle to think about something other than beer. But apparently it doesn’t work that way.
Guess the old man just learned that success isn’t everything.
I feel for the guy.
My brother is still talking about beer tourists and cult brews. But every time he says “Giltmaker,” I think of my old friend—Lyle’s daughter, Leila. She used to be one of the most important people in my life.
I glance around the bar, checking for familiar faces. It’s wild to see so many people from my past in one spot. But Leila’s face is the one I’m really looking for.
I don’t see her, and I’m both relieved and disappointed. Seeing everyone again is taking great reserves of emotional energy that I don’t really have.
And Leila? Yeah. I might have to work up to that one.
“Want to play darts?” Alec asks me. “We’re fixing to have a friendly tournament. Fifty dollar buy-in.”
“Sounds like a shakedown,” I point out. “But sure, dude. I will lose at darts in honor of your wedding.”
“Don’t they have darts in Colorado?” Alec asks, steering me toward the board.
“Yeah, but I haven’t had time to play.” He doesn’t need to know that I spent much of the last four months lying on my bed in the dark, trying to understand how my best friend died, and wondering what I could have done about it.
I’ll always wonder that.
I take another sip of excellent beer and follow my brothers toward the dartboard.
CHAPTER2
LEILA
I have very mixed feelings as I enter the beautiful brick church in the center of Colebury. Of course I’m happy for May and Alec. But my own wedding happened inside these walls. And look how that turned out?
So pardon me if I have a whiff of PTSD whenever I hear a string quartet playing Pachelbel’s Canon in D.
The ceremony will begin in just five minutes, but I still pause on the threshold of the sanctuary to straighten my spine and lift my chin. Then, with my shoulders back, I walk in alone.
Everybody knows by now. People have been whispering about it all over town. I can almost feel the eyeballs swiveling towards me.
She left him, they might be whispering.He’s devastated.
