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I ran in. The brewery was closed by now, but Jax, Rush, Charlie, and a few leftover Fixer Brothers TV show camera crew members were still inside. Everyone was gathered near one of the tanks, and I heard multiple bad sounds immediately.
“Back away from it,” I shouted as I walked in. “People have been killed by malfunctioning tanks. Better safe than sorry.”
Everyone backed off, and I saw that Chase was there still, too, looking way less happy-go-lucky than usual.
“Harlan, I think it’s my fault,” Chase said, his voice heavy with guilt and worry. “I was trying to get some detail shots of the tanks, and a tripod slammed into the LCD panel on it—”
“Why on Earth would you need close-ups of beer tanks?” I protested. “It’s a renovation show, and the renovations here are outside, Chase. I don’t like people being near the tanks unless they need to be. It’s not safe.”
“I’m so sorry,” he said, defeated.
I let out a long breath. “I’m not mad at you. Please, never go near them again without me here, okay?”
“Of course.”
I made my way up the short ladder that led to the panel. Already I could see that Chase’s camera tripod hadn’t done any permanent damage to the screen. But it had seemingly changed settings on the tank, and now the glycol liquid temperature was far too low.
“Everything should be safe,” I called back to the others, who were gathered by the bar. “I’m not sure how this batch is going to turn out, but nothing is going to explode.”
“Very good,” Rush said, giving me a nod. “Sorry you had to come in.”
“It’s okay, Rush,” I called back over, then turned back to the panel, trying to clear my mind long enough to fix the damned thing.
After five minutes, I had figured out how to get it back on track. I would have to wait to taste the final product later to see if it had gone on too long or if the beer would still taste normal in the end. When I walked back over to the bar, Chase walked over, stopping me.
“I’m so sorry,” he said.
“You didn’t mean anything by it. Just don’t do it again, and we’re good.”
“I feel awful. What can I do to make it right?”
I pondered for a second. “You could do me one favor,” I said.
Chase’s expression was pleading. “Anything.”
“Just lay off filming Sawyer for a couple of days, okay?” I asked. “As much as you can, at least. I know you need to get the best for the TV show, but he’s been a little camera shy, and I think he’d appreciate a break.”
“Completely,” Chase said. “I have to do what the directors ask, but when it comes to B-roll and random footage, I won’t be on him. Hell, I thought I was doing him a favor by filming him a lot. If he doesn’t like it, I’ll lay off.”
“I think he does like it. Slowly, over time,” I said. “But I have a feeling he just needs a day or two of a break.”
“Got it. You’re a good friend, Harlan.”
Chase still looked like a wounded animal, and I couldn’t help but feel sympathy for him. I sighed, running my fingers through my hair.
“Do I really look like I’m angry?”
Chase paused for a moment, like he didn’t know how to answer. “Um, well—”
“Honest answers only,” I said.
“Yes,” Chase said. “Yes. You look really angry. You look like a bear ready to ransack my whole house. I was pretty sure you were going to punch me back there.”
“Punch you?” I asked, incredulous. “I mean, I might have had the fleeting thought of wanting to sock you in the face, but I would never do that.”
“Are you sure?”
I raised my eyebrows at him. “I’d be more likely to hug you than punch you, Chase. No matter how upset I was.”
He visibly relaxed, nodding. “No wonder Sawyer likes you so much.”
My mind was reeling, still, though. “How many things do I do that make people… intimidated, in that way?”
“Probably a lot,” CHase said. “You do generally look like you could command any room.”
“And I’ve been told I don’t talk about feelings enough. That I don’t talk enough in general.”
Chase was the one giving me a sympathetic look now. “It’s okay.”
“I don’t know about that,” I said. “When people are getting the total wrong impression about what I think or what I believe, it’s a problem.”
“I see,” Chase said softly.
My mind, of course, was on Sawyer again.
What if I was too cagey sometimes, even around him? What if it was even hurting him, sometimes?
“Fuck,” I whispered.
“Is everything okay with you tonight? Really?” Chase asked. “You seem tense, even regardless of the beer tank.”
“I guess that’s one emotion I’m good at showing,” I said. “Being tense.”
He smiled at me. “A grizzly bear who’s worried about big, emotional problems more than rummaging around trash cans to find food?”
