Page 59 of Pitcher Perfect

“Spit it out,” I said impatiently.

“Fred Meyer is in. They’ve agreed to the IPA in five grocery store locations to start, with the possibility for coverage across the entire Portland Metro market.”

Ethan, Dom, and I looked at each other then back at Ty.

“Seriously?” Ethan broke the silence.

“Of course I’m fucking serious! Where’s the enthusiasm? Ouch!” Ty rubbed his thigh where the hefty dildo made impact.

“Be happy I didn’t aim for your head,” Dom said. “And great fucking job, man. This is huge.”

“Finallysome excitement,” Ty grumbled, but the words held no bite. He animatedly talked us through the details while Dom asked financial questions.

Ethan was upbeat and supportive, as usual. Ty pitched a promo idea of a taproom discount for people who brought in Fred Meyer receipts showing beer purchases. I was excited, of course. It was one step closer to getting established on the local beer scene, but it also meant upping production to meet the increased demand. Without the funds to buy more equipment, I would need to tighten my current production schedule even more to squeeze in extra batches when possible. That meant more work and less time with Caleb—not that it was unexpected since we’d been working toward this, but the reality of it stung more than I expected.

“Can we handle the load?” Dom asked me. Always the logistics guy.

“Ask Caleb about how Austin can handle a load.” Ty winked at me.

Can I handle it?I had no choice. I wasn’t a superhero who could change the science and speed up fermentation, but I could shave a day here and there by adjusting the other parts of the process to get new batches in the tanks more quickly. Late nights, long weeks, reworking our supply orders, reworking my schedule. “I’ll figure it out.”

“That’s not what I’m asking. I’m asking, can we handle the additional orders at that volume?”

“Dom, I said I’ll figure it out. Okay?”What the hell does he want from me?I knew our production needs would grow and it would be tight for a while until we could afford more equipment. I’d been fully aware from day one that it would be tough for a long time.

He clenched his jaw. “No, that’s not okay. This isn’t all your responsibility. We’re a team, and we make decisions together.”

I dropped my plate on my table a little too hard. My stress and anxiety bubbled over. “Itismy responsibility. I’m the brewer. Our success depends on the quality of our beer and how much we can make. When I say I’ll figure it out, I mean I’ll figure it out. I’ll do whatever I need to do to make it happen.”

Ty sat up straight. “Excuse the fuck outta me? Tap That’s success is only about your contributions? What the fuck, Aus?” I couldn’t remember the last time I’d seen Ty so angry. And hurt.

I dropped my face into my hands. “No, that’s not what I’m saying. It’s just—it’s a brewery. The beer is important.”

Ty moved to the edge of his seat and leaned forward, pointing at me. “So, you’re saying that the only reason we’re successful is the beer? Not the incredible hospitality experience Ethan creates in the taproom that turns people into repeat visitors, Dom’s magic with numbers and contracts that keeps our money going as far as possible, or me working my ass off to build and grow our brand presence? Because without those things, we’re a glorified home brew operation with huge fucking bills. The beer matters.Of course it matters.But you’re delusional if you think this is your show.”

I stared at Ty, my mouth hanging open. The only sound in the room was my thundering pulse. “No! God,no. I don’t mean that at all. Fuck. I’m not explaining this right.” I looked up at the ceiling, hoping the right words would magically spill out of my mouth.

“Give him a minute,” Ethan said quietly to Ty.

After several long moments, I tried again. “Ethan, your inheritance was the only reason we had enough capital to open the brewery. Dom, you let us live in your house rent-free, which keeps our living expenses so low that none of us need second jobs to keep ourselves afloat until the brewery turns a solid profit. And, Ty, your family helped us get a great deal on the space, did some of the remodeling for free, and helped us with all the legal shit to get the business set up at no cost, right?”

“Ourfamily.” He held my stare.

I blinked away the stinging in my eyes. “The one thing I could’ve done was call my dad and ask for his money, media attention, calling celebrity friends and asking them to post about us on social media—anything. But never once did any of you so much as hint at wanting me to do that. Goddamn am I grateful for that, but I feel like shit about it. What’s my contribution? Making the best beer I can as fast as possible. We have a new contract? I’ll make it happen. That’s all I have to give to you.”

A lump grew in my throat, threatening to cut off my airway. “You guys have always been there for me. You’ve made my worst days manageable, and I’d do anything for you. Iwantto do anything. I don’t think I’m the reason our brewery rocks. We’re all the reason for that. I just don’t want to let you down.”

Ethan sucked in a sharp breath. “Aus? That’s how you feel? Like you have to run yourself ragged to be an equal in this?”

Of course Ethan cut right to the heart of it. I nodded.

“Austin.” Ty’s voice cracked. “I’m sorry, man. I didn’t realize.”

“We need you to find a balance. If you burn out, we’re fucked. Hell, if any of us burn out, it’ll be a blow. We need to find a solution here,” Dom insisted.

“Yeah, we’re like a sexy sports car. If one wheel doesn’t work and we can’t show off around town, what’s the point?” Ty said.

“I’ll revisit the books to see if there’s any wiggle room to buy more equipment. Or we could take out a loan,” Dom suggested.

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