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But failing miserably.
“Dude, how’ve you been?” I give him a hand shake that turns into a back slap/hug thing. “Been a long time.”
“It sure has. How’s Atlanta treating you? Still the design genius for the brewery?”
“Atlanta’s great.” I offer the barstool next to mine for him to have a seat. “Yeah, I’m still running the distribution side of things.”
“What brings you into town?” he asks. “Visiting family?”
“Something like that,” I hedge, holding back the brewery’s financial troubles Urban called me home to help fix. “Hey, I saw you were getting married a while back. How did that go?”
Even though Henry and I haven’t seen each other in years, we’re friends on Facebook so I see his posts every once in a while.
Henry’s lips spread thin, and his eyebrows droop. “Yeah, that engagement didn’t hold.” His woeful expression changes to upbeat on a dime, “I’m actually engaged again, though.”
“No shit. Wow, congrats.” I turn to the bartender. “Mia, get my friend here the Shaggy Maggie IPA.” Maybe I’m biased since I design the bottles and packaging, but it’s the best on the market, in my opinion. Our IPA’s are legendary. And our stouts are even better. Twist & Stout was voted top dark beer in Florida. Twice. I’d like to think it’s got something to do with the bottles. Each one has a goat etched right in. Seriously.
“Sure thing,” she says, before rushing off to fetch it.
“She’s cute,” Henry says as Mia reaches into the cooler behind the bar.
That’s not exactly something an engaged man should be noticing. But from knowing Henry in high school, and the little bit I’ve seen on social media for the past however many years, there’s one theme I’ve noticed with Henry’s life—he sure does love the ladies.
Literally.
But people can change, right? Minus my father. That bastard will never change.
Mia slides Henry his beer across the bar wood with a smile and he lifts the brown bottle I designed to clink it with mine. “I’ve always loved your family’s brewery.” He takes a long pull of beer. “Ahh. Richard Atwood sure knows his stuff.”
“That he does.” I take a sip of beer, my shoulders tensing beneath my t-shirt at the mention of my father’s name. What he knows is how to run a business that was a goldmine into a struggling mess. It’s a shame, really. This brewpub has been serving the local community and building relationships with all the bars and restaurants since I was a kid.
Urban has upgraded and transformed this place into a hotspot in Jupiter. The Bearded Goat Brewery is pretty fucking cool. Behind the bar, you can see the machinery and the brewmaster mixing the hops in the taproom. People love it. Or did.
“How’s your brother?” he asks.
“Urban’s good,” I answer. Except the high blood pressure he’s developing from trying to stop the bleeding from the brewery. “So, tell me about this girl you’re marrying.”
He turns to face me. “She’ll be the perfect little topping on my five-year plan.” He takes a swig of beer. “Ever meet someone you didn’t expect?”
My mind immediately travels to the woman I kissed yesterday after I picked up items to fix a broken tap. She was stunning. Long brown hair that had a slight wave, like she’d just come from the beach. Light brown eyes that lightened even more when the sun hit them just right. Curves that filled out her tight yoga pants and little top.
There was just something about her.
Or maybe it was everything about her.
I didn’t plan to kiss her—I’m not some psycho who goes around kissing all the women—but it was the only thing I could think of when my father showed up out of nowhere, driving down a side street near the lot.
“How’s your mom?” I ask Henry.
“She’s good. Still running the gator tours.” There’s an awkward pause before Henry swallows down more of his beer.
“What about you? Are you still helping them out?”
“No,” he scoffs, handing me a business card. “I’m an investor with a huge firm downtown. The Wright Brothers.”
Ah. My ears perk up. Maybe I just found the answer to our problems wrapped up in khaki pants and blue polo shirt. I signal Mia for two more as Henry fills me in on his job and how he’s making his mark on the executives by bringing in the highest potential in return investments. It’s exclusive, and they invest in only the best.
“Sounds very important,” I flatter him. Maybe I can convince Henry to invest in the brewery after I run it by Urban.
“Oh, it is,” he assures me. “It’s not as cool as what you do, artistic shit,” he glances at my jeans and t-shirt, “but I like the suit and tie.” He places his beer on the bar. “Can I ask you a silly question?”
“I love silly questions,” I say.
