Page 33 of Relief Pitcher

As I finished my tacos, I thought about how fun it would be to watch everything unfold once Hayden started the project. I bet Dom would make up excuses to work from the house more than the brewery while Hayden was there. Ethan, Austin, and I had already chatted with Seth, and the four of us had agreed to mediate if things got heated.

This outdoor addition to the brewery was critical to our business goals, which included being able to support Caleb parking his food truck at the brewery. Our growth supported the expansion of his restaurant empire. I wanted it to happen for all of us because, ultimately, if we succeeded, it benefited Dahlia Springs.

The covered seating area would be a year-round way to get even more people to spend their time and money at the brewery and, hopefully, other downtown businesses. The extra income should pay off the construction fairly quickly and help us save toward our goal of upgrading our equipment and then someday leasing a warehouse to grow our production. If we continued successfully getting placed in restaurants, stores, and eventually markets, our only option would be to increase production until we hit our legal cap or plateau.

Once Dom returned with seconds that didn’t include any PB&J roll-ups—rude—the meeting resumed as though nothing had happened. I loved that part of our dynamic. We had our tiffs, as my mom would say, but we always moved on quickly. It was the only way we could survive being best friends, roommates, and business partners. It was a lot of time to spend together if you didn’t know how to work through shit.

“How did the visit to The Pitted Olive go the other day?” Dom asked.

I’d expected the question since we were going over our Q2 goals tonight. We were already several months into the year, and I needed to keep the momentum going on getting beer placed in new locations. No rest for the wicked…ly handsome.

“I think we’ve got a good shot, but it’s going to take some time.”

Austin nodded. “Is she receptive to a pitch meeting?”

“She is. In June.”

“Not for two months? Why?” Dom frowned.

“She said she’s doing her planning for fall at that time. Something else cool happened though.”

The guys stared at me expectantly.

I’d already planned how to mention the softball league to position it in the best way possible. “We’ve got a great shot at it. We got to chatting, and she needs a pitcher for the team she sponsors in the Portland Metro Queer Softball League. I told her I’d be happy to help out. Gotta do what you gotta do for a deal, you know?” I mimed brushing dirt off my shoulder.

“That sounds great! I know you’ve been wanting to play for a while. She has to carry our beer after that.” Ethan’s smile was encouraging.

“Good strategy,” Dom said simply.

Austin stared at me and narrowed his eyes. “There’s something you’re not telling us.” Seth nodded and looked equally suspicious.

I squared my shoulders. “What do you mean?”

“You forget we’re cousins, and I’ve known you since you shit in diapers. You’re holding something back. You’ve got a tell.”

“What do you mean I’ve got a tell?”

“You’ve totally got a tell,” Dom said.

“What is it?”

“If we say, you’ll stop doing it,” Ethan said.

“You guys fucking suck.” I crossed my arms and collapsed in the chair.

Dom smirked. “Got to take the advantages where you can.”

I huffed. “Okay, fine. The owner, Danita, is Cooper’s best friend. Coop’s on the team.”

“Ah,” the guys said in unison.

“What the hell does that mean?”

Austin shrugged. “It all makes sense now.”

“What makes sense?” I glared at each one of the smug, smirking fuckers, but none of them said anything. “What?”

“This is good progress. Nice work, Ty.” Dom leaned back in his chair.

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