Page 3 of Wild Child
There’s a chorus of ayes around the room, and I count five raised hands including Lone Star’s on the screen.
“Those against.”
Judge raises his hand as does Badge, not surprising considering one’s a lawyer and the other a sheriff. Tech raises histoo, but I suspect it’s because he’d rather stay indoors and play video games than do a ten day charity ride. Besides, he’s got his two little ones to look after at home and no one to help.
“They ayes have it. We’re doing the charity run.” I slam the gavel down, and Judge huffs.
“No good will come of this,” he mutters.
With the charity run sorted, I move onto the next piece of business.
“We’ve had an issue with the beer festival in Phoenix this weekend.”
It’s one of the biggest craft beer festivals on the circuit, and plenty of distributors attend looking for new products. It’s a long way for us to go from North Carolina, but it could open up both the Midwest and the west coast markets for us.
Marcus and Hazel were supposed to take the pop-up peer truck to the festival. Since they hooked up, Hazel helps out at the bar sometimes, and her bubbly personality is great as a customer-facing person for the business. She’s also a lot easier to look at than any of the hairy bikers in front of me.
We booked the festival months ago and they were going to do it together, with Hazel running the stall and Marcus meeting with distributors.
But since then, Hazel’s gotten pregnant and has severe morning sickness. She’s bedridden, doctor’s orders, and Marcus won’t leave her side.
“I need two volunteers to do the festival this weekend.”
I scan the men in the room, but no one’s volunteering.
“Arlo? Can you and Maggie go?” He’s the most personable of us men. His road name is Prince, as in Prince Charming, and it’s well deserved.
He shakes his head. “Sorry VP. We’re visiting Maggie’s folks this weekend. It’s her dad’s sixtieth birthday.”
I can’t ask him to miss such a family occasion. I run a hand down my face, wondering again if I should just cancel.
But Marcus has meetings set up with distributors, and it could expand our business nationwide.
“You know you’re the best person for the job,” Specs says as if reading my mind.
He sits quietly in the back of the room, his hands folded across whatever book this meeting disturbed him from. His glasses sit halfway down his nose.
“I can keep an eye on things for a few days.”
I click my neck, thinking about it. He’s right. I’m the best person to be in those meetings. The beer festival is just the backdrop for the business opportunities.
I nod curtly, making the decision. “I’ll go. I can run the stall in between taking meetings. Specs will be in charge here.”
Arlo presses his lips together and squints at me.
“What is it?” I bark.
“No offence, VP, but you’re not exactly the right person to run the stall.”
I glare at him. “What do you mean?”
He raises his eyebrows, and a smile tugs at his lips. “I mean, Barrels, you might need some backup on the stall.”
The men suppress smiles, and I glower at them. But he has a point.
My road name is Barrels not only because I run a brewery, but because I was a staff sergeant in the military, and that makes me a no-nonsense man. I barrel through and get things done. I don’t suffer fools, and it’s why I stay out back in the brewery and not in the bar.
“Can anyone join me as the frontman for the stall?”
