Page 84 of Tennessee Trouble

“Not quite as pretty as yours,” I joke back.

“Brandt Rawlins!”

I spin around, immediately discovering where my name came from.

George Ridgeley.

If ever there was what my sister and her best friend, Mell, referred to as a “business bro,” it’s George Ridgeley. His name betrays his age, making him sound older than he is, but I truly can’t think of a more fitting moniker for the mid-forties beverage distribution rep who seems to have an endless supply of Dockers, loafers, and high-end, obnoxiously patterned golf shirts. Today’s appears to be tiny overflowing mugs of beer, repeated at a rate that from far away probably looks okay, but up close might cause a headache.

“George, good to see you,” I greet, putting on my fakest smile and shaking his hand. I can’t stand this guy, and was thrilled when Milo suggested hiring Rose to handle dealing with sales and distribution so that we no longer had to try to shake this guy off.

“Been awhile. Haven’t seen you at a CocktailCon event in a couple of years.”

“Well, we’ve been busy.”

“I know you have. Two new offerings, three if you count the Shandy you’re serving in your taproom, plus adding on to said taproom.”

Damn, this guy is well-informed. I suppose that’s his job, but still.

“Still wish y’all would let me add Southern Brothers to the NatBev portfolio. We could help get y’all into some national chains, plus even some up in Canada.”

I suck in a breath, holding it for a few seconds so I don’t say all the things I really want to. Like how it’s never been Southern Brothers wish to “go national” and be in every chain restaurant in the country. Nor do we have any big draw to Canada. Canada has their own craft beer. We are nothing more than what we’ve always said we are—two good ol’ Southern boys doing what we love.

“As I’m sure Rose has told you, we are focused on other things right now. Happy to be independent.”

“Well, should you ever change your mind…”

Yeah, yeah…I know how to get ahold of you…

I need to change the subject. Fast.

“George, do you know Lindee Murray?” I turn toward Lindee, drawing her into this conversation, hoping a quick introduction will help rescue me from this hell.

“Murray? As in a Tennessee Trouble Murray?” George asks, his interest clearly piqued. Maybe this won’t be as quick as I had hoped.

“One and the same.”

“Lindee is also the brains behind Wink & Shine,” I offer, not wanting her to get lost in being a Murray. While her family is great and all, it’s her know-how that is going to keep the brand alive.

“Guilty as charged.”

“Well then, I’ve love to talk to you about also considering NatBev as a distributor. The benefits⁠—”

“I won’t lie to you…George?”

“Yes’m.” He reaches into his pocket, pulling out a card. “George Ridgeley at your service.”

Lindee politely takes the card, not bothering to look at it before slipping it in her back pocket. Apparently that’s where she also puts things she wants to make disappear.

“George, I won’t lie; I’m on the production side of things. I don’t know a whole lot about the distribution side. I do know that my older brother oversees logistics and transport, so I would assume we’re all set in that area. Should that ever change though…”

Damn, she’s good. I need to take notes. That was the most perfect brush-off I’ve ever seen.

“Just keep me in mind.” George smiles, like her rejection was nothing. “You know, I’m a little surprised to see you two together given the results.”

“The results?” Lindee asks.

Oh, shit…