Page 12 of The Boyfriend Experience

That test was way too easy. I mean… she should’ve picked several of the same type of beer, not three that can be identified by color and smell alone.

I’ve got her website open on my laptop as I lie in bed, absently looking between the lights of her penthouse from the view out my window, and her site.

She’s got several IPAs. Several citrus ones, in fact. Why didn’t she line all those up and make me figure out which one was Anarchy Orange? And she’s got three dark beers. Two stouts and that brown Mountain Mud. She could’ve lined those up and made me choose. I don’t see any other saisons on her menu, but that one wasn’t even one of the tests. And Bucked Up—hell, anyone could identify Bucked Up. It’s as common as Coors in this town.

It makes no sense.

And then she got all quiet after the blind taste test. Like she was… upset.

But about what?

That I passed her stupid test?

How could I not pass?

Which makes me wonder about the other men she’s interviewed for this contract. How could they have possibly fucked this up?

Unless it was her. Right? Her attitude. Her money. Her confidence.

I mean, there are a lot of men out there who hate a successful woman. Maybe that was it? Or maybe she’s just too… unpredictable for them?

She’s definitely a wild card.

But her knowledge of the real-estate market is impressive. She’s perfect for these TV people. I mean, total fucking knock-out, number one. Smart. And she seems like a ruthless businesswoman.

But that test.

And her take-no-prisoners Wild West persona.

I do a search for Oaklee Ryan and find several local news articles about her on page one. Mostly about the brewhouse. Her father’s obituary several years ago. One article in Westword about her new renovation project, two about the mural going up on the front of the building, and many—like dozens—about the awards her craft beers have won over the past several decades. Several international ones too.

Except… none of them are recent. She hasn’t won an award in three years. Not even the Denver BrewBest Fest last month.

Not since her father died, I realize.

Maybe she needs a beer guy to help her come up with a new idea?

But then why the boyfriend experience?

It just makes no sense. None of it.

So I stare at all the pictures of her online. She’s got a look. Urban cowgirl. Lots of them feature her wearing short flowing skirts with old cowboy boots with t-shirts bedazzled with rhinestones. The kind you see women wearing at the rodeo. Some of them have her in jeans—toes of her boots peeking out from under the hem. And only one has her dressed up in something I’d call socialite elite.

That was for a party her father threw just a year before he died to celebrate the opening of an art gallery dedicated to western artists. He was a handsome man. White hair, fit body, well-groomed short beard and the same don’t-fuck-with-me look in his eyes.

They look like wild animals caught in a pen. Mustangs, maybe. Broncos, both of them.

And then I wonder if he named her Oaklee after Annie Oakley?

Which makes me laugh and hope it’s true. I can picture my Oaklee with a rifle in her hand shooting cans as a little girl. Wearing a cowboy hat that gets blown off her head as she takes aim on some rural outdoor shooting range.

She sent me home after we signed the contract. Looking sad and maybe a little desperate. My only instructions were to pick her up in the lobby of Bronco Brews tomorrow at noon wearing jeans and a t-shirt.

When I asked what we were doing she walked to the elevator, called it, and said goodbye with a wave of her hand.

She owns an empire. Like… a true empire. That building is incredible. That water tower is original too. And her father was something of a philanthropist during his later years. He was a big supporter of the arts—hosted a local music festival every summer from nineteen eighty-two until the late nineties. And they have a scholarship fund at Colorado State, University of Northern Colorado, and the University of Colorado Boulder for microbiology students.

Which I thought was weird until I saw an article that states she has a master’s degree in microbiology from Colorado State and put two and two together to realize… that’s what makes beer, right? Yeast is what gives beer flavor.