Page 22 of Best Kind of Trouble
I’m already feeling sorry for myself. Why not give myself another reason for self-pity?
“Suit yourself,” she says with a shake of her head, then steps away from my booth.
I press the bruised area on my knuckles, thinking about how it felt to sink my fists into that heavy bag last night. Then I pull out my phone and text Hannah, letting her know what happened and also that I might not be able to make it to Tea of Fortune this evening. If I go, I know they’ll make my problem theirs.
I want to be the one who comes up with a plan for keeping the brewery open. I need to be. I’ll accept help from my friends, but only after I do the legwork. Being a nepo baby twice over is bad enough—I won’t accept another unearned favor. Not unless I have something of my own to offer.
Before I put my phone away, I send one last text:
I’m going to figure out a game plan, and then I’ll get in touch.
“Iama badass bitch,” I mumble under my breath.
My phone buzzes, but I don’t check the screen.
Instead, I pull out the BIG IDEAS notebook I’ve been carrying around since listening to a podcast about the habits of highly successful people.
One of the habits they recommended was to write down all of your “big ideas.” So far, the only idea I’ve jotted down is to offer special dinners in the barrel room. I want to decorate it with soft lighting, flowers, and a plush rug to create a unique romantic experience.
Liam would obviously scoff at the idea, but this is exactly the kind of thing that will bring in more money. Besides, he doesn’t care what other people think, and he said I shouldn’t either.
“Iama badass bitch,” I repeat, my pulse quickening as I open the notebook and flip to the first empty page.
The server returns with my double whiskey, plus an egg and cheese on a biscuit.
“I didn’t order this,” I say, baffled.
“It’s to make up for the bad whiskey,” she insists, her expression making it clear she’s not going to budge. “I’ve got kids your age. I won’t let you drink without eating, doll.”
To my horror, I feel heat burning my eyes.
“Thank you,” I say, glancing at her name tag. “Thank you, Sharon.”
She shocks me by squeezing my shoulder.
“I’ll tell you what I wish someone had told me twenty years ago.” Her blue gaze is fierce. “He’s not worth it. The ones who make you drink never are. A beautiful girl like you could have any man you want. You don’t need to settle for someone who’s gonna jerk you around and play games.”
She walks away before I can tell her it’s not about a man.
Except…itisabout a man, and hehasbeen playing games. Ever since I was born, it feels like.
I’ve always lost, but I’m not going to lose this time.
I want this brewery.
I want to prove myself.
I take a sip of the whiskey, cringe, then take another, my mind churning. My father said we’d have to put on an impressive event to keep the brewery open. He played it off as a joke, but it’s factual. If I want to keep Silver Star open, I’ll have to put on one hell of a New Year’s Eve party.
But it has to feel like a big deal. He said Melly would write about the changing of the guard, and that’s exactly what this needs to be: out with the old, and in with the new.
The quickest beers to make are pale ales and wheat beers…
I’ve done enough research over the past year to know it would take about two weeks for Liam to make a beer like that.
On New Year’s Day, we could have our first new beer.
IfLiam’s willing to start immediately.
