Page 25 of Sour Brew Face

“By dropping a distributor? Taking money out of our coffers? Why would you do that?”

The guys share a look that borders on desperate and reeks of male stupidity. “Um…”, Ishaan speaks up hesitantly, “cuz he did you wrong?”

I nod slowly, “Right, so you don’t drop him as a client, you charge him double. Come on guys, this is business 101.” I joke, but it falls flat. So, I stand up like a big girl and address their concerns.

“Thank you, all of you, for the gesture. It’s sweet that you want to support me in any way you can. And it would be so much harder to have my heart shoved through a woodchipper if I didn’t have friends like you.” They preen under my praise like goobers, “With that said, there’s no need to stop doing business with Mayes, we are all adults here. I suggest a new bar for us to hang out at if you don’t mind, though.”

“We’ll go wherever you want. You’re our girl, MoMo.” In seconds, I’m suffocated by 7 ordinary guys with extraordinary hearts and someone who chose the wrong body wash.

“Who uses Axe body wash?” I mumble out, squished against Joe’s chest. He giggles, all girly like, and smacks my face.

“Stop that, your voice is tickling my nipple!”

“I ran out of my regular body wash, and this was all I could find.” Paul whines.

“In a thirteen-year-olds shower caddy?” He doesn’t appreciate my teasing, but the others do.

Dave snorts, “Be a man, Paul. Men useOld Spiceso they can smell like a night panther, or a krakenguard, or an elklord.”

“What the fuck is an elklord?”

“It’s a stately elk that smells phenomenal.”

Langston 22.

I don’t know what the previous record is, but so far, I’ve made it two days without a heart. Soul’s gone too. I’m just a soulless carcass wasting everyone else’s precious oxygen while a black hole in the left center of my chest sucks in all my hopes and dreams never to be seen or heard from again.

And if what Mary Opal said and did to my mom wasn’t bad enough, our “conversation” has left me with the distinct impression that I’m somehow the one who fucked up. How fucked up is that? She’s wrong and I’m right and it has never sucked so much to be right. Why don’t I feel righteous? I feel wrongeous.

Slamming a case of beer on the bar top, I lean on my fists, close my eyes, and take a deep breath. My fingers tingle with the memories of how I fucked my fist the last two days to thoughts of her. She’s everywhere and I’m going slowly mad. I dream of her, how she whimpered when I entered her, the tight clutch of her wet heat, how my name sounded when she moaned it in my ear. And it’s more than that. What is messing me up the most is the echo of her laughter, the bite of her wit, how I’ve never felt more alive than when I was circling in her orbit, and now that I’ve been set adrift…

“Mr. Mayes, we need to have a conversation.” I’m startled by the sound of Mike’s voice from Ordinary Guys Brewing. Jesse hip checks me as he leans across the bar and gives Mike a kiss that is most certainly NSFW. “Hey, baby.”, Mike husks against Jesse’s lips. I feel I’m intruding on a moment, until Jesse steps back, gives me the stink eye and busies himself at the other end of the bar.

“Mike, hey, man. What’s up?” I can only assume he’s here to discuss Mo, but on the off chance he’s here about business, I can be friendly.

“We need to sever our contract with Mayes.” He says bluntly, stealing the little bit of oxygen I had in my lungs.

I manage to croak out a “What?”

“Ordinary Guys Brewing is no longer interested in working with Mayes Bar, we believe it is a conflict of interest.”

The constriction quickly morphs into hostility. “Because of Mary Opal?”

He shrugs, “Not exactly.”

I huff, “So, I break it off with your chemist and suddenly I’m not fit to do business with anymore?”

“We don’t like you as a person, because of what you did to our girl. But that doesn’t mean we would cease business relations. The conflict is because we haven’t decided if we are pressing charges against your mother.”

“WHAT?!” My heart starts thumping for an entirely different reason. Press charges against my mother for what?

He eyes me up and down for a second, paying close attention to my face. “Eugenia Mayes entered Ordinary Guys Brewing two days ago and assaulted one of our employees and threatened their life.”

I fall back against the back of the bar, my mouth gaping like a fish as I try to process what he just said. “My mother…my 60-year-old mother…assaulted someone?”

“Yes. You weren’t aware?” I shake my head numbly.

“No, I wasn’t. Who…what…can you please explain?”

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