Chapter Two #2
Not that her own beers weren’t delicious. Even if some of them weren’t her original recipes—holdover core beers from the brewer she had replaced three years earlier—Sammie was still pretty fucking proud of the stuff she brewed.
Pushing all guilt at spending money on herself to the back of her mind, Sammie swung her jeep into a small parking lot.
Constant Reader Brewing was a tiny operation. Even so, it was two businesses in one—a brewery and a used bookstore.
“Sammie!” Zehra, business owner, brewer, bartender, and bookseller extraordinaire, waved from behind the bar. “Did you finally quit so you could come work for me?”
It had been their running joke for a couple years now, one that tugged at something in Sammie’s chest that she refused to examine too closely.
“Not yet.” The same answer she always gave. “Maybe next time.”
“We’ll figure it out.” The usual sentiment from Zehra that this part of their greeting always ended with.
Sammie wished it could be true. She adored Zehra, and the whole operation at Constant Reader seemed like a dream come true.
The place was special, a staple in the neighborhood that fostered a real sense of community.
Sure, they didn’t distribute to neighboring states the way Everly did, but having smaller batches gave Zehra the creative freedom to make beers that were, well, fun. She was constantly experimenting with recipes, adding ingredients on nothing more than a whim of inspiration.
“Got a big donation over the weekend.” Zehra pointed to the bookshelves lining the far wall as she wiped down the bar top. “Lots of new stuff to look at.”
Sammie shook her head. She was in the middle of reading a fourteen-book epic fantasy series. She didn’t need to be distracted by new stories.
“Well, if you’re just going to sit there, try this.” Zehra finished pouring a pint, sliding it across the bar as she gave Sammie a pointed look.
“What is it?” Sammie took a seat at one of the barstools.
“Taste first,” Zehra said sternly, tucking her long gray-black curls behind her ear.
Sammie did as she was told. “Is that… black pepper?” It was good. The red color of the liquid belied the sharp taste that flooded her mouth.
“Black pepper in an amber ale. Calling it Ale of Arrakis.” All the beer names at Constant Reader were book themed. Gimmicky, sure, but Sammie loved it.
“This is great, Zehra.” Smooth after the initial sharpness, excellent for sipping slowly.
“Thanks!” She smiled brightly, dimple pricking her cheeks. “You gave me the idea actually, when you were here a month or so ago. Talking about contrasting flavors.”
Zehra’s words tugged at what felt like a string tied around Sammie’s heart. The beers she made at Everly were good, really good, but to have creative freedom… Sammie wished the bit she and Zehra had going wasn’t just a bit.
She wanted what Zehra had, but a small place like Constant Reader could never pay what she needed. Not if Sammie wanted to keep her childhood home.
Now was not the time to start wallowing in the fact that she would probably never be completely satisfied with the trajectory of her career.
Sammie sipped her pint while Zehra poured for customers that came and went.
For such a small place, the seats always seemed to be filled.
Locals turned out for Constant Reader, a safe haven on the outskirts of the city, with its Pride flag in the window and a Black Lives Matter sign hanging right next to it.
It was easy, sitting in the small taproom, to forget about the day she’d had.
Carson’s screw-up, Robert and his gang of dipshits that couldn’t comprehend the idea of a woman in charge.
For Sammie, this space felt liminal. Time slipped by quietly as her body shed the weight of the day, her mind letting go of it all.
Even the fact that the man she’d been crushing on for the last decade had caught her with a vibrator in hand.
“Starting to think about what retirement is going to look like,” Zehra said as Sammie slid her empty glass across the counter. The statement felt more pointed than usual, pulling Sammie out of the gut-churning memory.
“Oh yeah?” She wasn’t sure if she wanted more details or not.
“I’ve interviewed a couple people. Haven’t found the right fit yet. But I don’t think I want to spend the rest of my sixties sweating back there.” She hooked a thumb over her shoulder, toward the door that led to the brewhouse.
It was for the best, really. Zehra would find someone else to take over, because Sammie wasn’t the right fit either. Even if she wished she was.
“They’ll be lucky to work here.” Sammie pulled her debit card out, but Zehra pushed her hand away, a knowing look in her eyes.
“It’s on the house. You’ve got a window to get fixed.”
Gutters too. And an oil change.
Her phone pinged as she offered a quick thanks for the free beer. There was a message waiting in the small group chat she was a part of.
Atticus: Drinks after practice
Ivy: as your trainer, i must advise against drinking when our season is on the line
Atticus: The game isn’t until this weekend
Atticus: And we’re gonna win
Atticus: Besides, I didn’t specify that it needed to be alcohol -_-
Kai: My stream just ended so I’m game
Sammie: I’m already here waiting…
Atticus: Damn sis, bad day?
Sammie: I’ll tell you when you get here
Ivy: :(
Sammie clicked her phone off. It wouldn’t be long before her brother wrapped up his practice.
“I’m gonna go grab a booth,” she told Zehra, who offered a nod and a soft smile.
Sammie stopped by the shelves on her way across the room, grabbing a fantasy novel she’d had her eye on for a while, despite her brain’s protestations against starting yet another book.
She slid into the booth in the back corner, settling in with the tattered paperback.
Twenty minutes later, three familiar figures walked into the brewery.
“Move your ass!”
Sammie rolled her eyes as her brother smushed himself up against her side, too impatient to wait for her to scoot over in the cramped booth. She met Ivy, who was shifting over to make room on her other side for Atticus’ boyfriend, Kai, in the middle of the curved bench seat.
“There is a chair right there.” Ivy waved toward the other side of the half circle table. “We don’t all have to sit in the booth.”
Kai scrunched his nose at the chair as though it had personally offended him.
“Before we get into all the soul-sucking shit,” Ivy continued, smiling. “There’s this outside hitter that plays for the Louisville women’s team, we got into an argument at that training conference I went to last week. I’m thinking about sliding into her DMs.”
“Because she argued with you?” Sammie chuckled, glad for a bit of levity after the day she’d had.
“Well, yeah.” Ivy shrugged. “It was hot. She was kind of mean. I’ve been trying to figure out a conversation starter all day, so ponder that while we all commiserate over our problems. Now.
” Ivy reached up to tighten her messy ponytail, leaning back in the booth and giving Sammie her whole attention. “What’s wrong?”
“Everything.” Sammie sighed. “One of Robert’s evil cohorts stopped by today, at the same time your favorite spiker was delivering my grain order.
He thought Kieran was the head brewer. I was standing right there in fucking work boots, the smell of beer literally wafting off of me, and this guy still assumed the man in the room was more qualified than me. ”
Kai rolled his eyes as Atticus let out a low whistle. Ivy looked ready to maybe go commit arson.
“Sister,” Atticus said, pinning Sammie with a knowing stare. “It has been two weeks since I last saw you.”
“I know,” Sammie said, tugging one of her braids.
“Work’s been a lot.” Getting set up with a new distributor, signing a contract with the local university to get Everly’s beer into their stadium for all the football games, taking on a second, mostly useless assistant brewer.
Dealing with Robert Everly’s weird, cagey attitude.
He’d been showing up at the brewery more than usual lately.
Atticus was frowning at her, his bleached blonde hair falling over his forehead, still wet from the shower he’d probably taken after practice. “That job is killing you.”
Another eye roll. “Don’t be dramatic, Attie.”
Kai snorted from the other side of the booth. “Impossible.”
Atticus narrowed his eyes, huffing a sharp breath through his nose. Ivy glanced back and forth between the two men, her hair flicking back and forth as she grinned. “Trouble in paradise?”
Kai smirked. “He’s mad that I talked him into watching Banana Fish.”
Ivy cocked her head to the side. “What’s a banana fish?”
The other three responded at once.
“An anime,” from Kai.
“Emotional devastation,” from Sammie.
“The black hole where happiness goes to die,” from Atticus.
Ivy blinked at the three of them.
“You should check it out,” Kai said, popping a straw into his soft drink.
Ivy chuckled. “Yeah, I’ll get right on that.”
Sammie shoved her brother out of the way to go grab another beer for herself. When she got back, Atticus was glaring at his glass of water, sipping it begrudgingly.
“Just one beer,” he said.
Ivy shook her head. “No.”
“You are my trainer, not my dietician.”
“And both your coach and your captain would be on my side.”
“Can we not sit here and talk shop all evening?” Kai asked, a bored stare on his face as he pulled his pink-tipped hair back into a low bun. “I quit volleyball in college, didn’t realize I was still going to have to hear about it for the rest of my life.”
The words only made Atticus grin, and something in Sammie’s chest squeezed tight.
Not a bad tightness, but a tightness that made her feel safe.
It was the part of her that was tied intrinsically to her twin, and knowing that he’d found his happiness in Kai, knowing that what they had was so much more than the flings of Atticus’ past, it settled something inside of Sammie.
Atticus was happy, so unbelievably happy.