Page 39 of Hammer and Hops

“Hey, Everett! Good to see you.” Nate smiled and waved as I walked up to the bar. His old boxer huffed from behind the bar and resettled.

“I’m good. How’s that tap?” I pointed at the equipment in question.

“It’s been fine since you fixed it up the other day. Let me pour you one.”

“Sure.” Nate poured me a cold glass of my own brew, and I took a deep swig of it. It was perfect. “Nice.”

“It’s been very popular here, but I know you’ve had trouble at your brewery. How long before we can get another order in? We’re on the last keg.”

“I’m actually not sure. We’ve barely started with cleanup, and the insurance company doesn't want to pay for any of it.”

“Oh? That doesn’t seem right.”

“It was arson.”

“Damn. Can you sue the guy who did it?”

“Yes, but it takes time. I mean, something like that could potentially be settled pre-trial, but it’s not likely with this joker. And he probably doesn’t have much.” He’d have to sell his brewery, and that made me feel a little vengeful. “Still… If I have to pay lawyer fees upfront, I couldn’t.” The second choice was to wait for the trial and hope he would have to pay restitution as part of his sentence.

“That sucks. Who the hell would do that, anyway?”

“I can’t talk about it, but it’s not anyone from here. I’ve never been to a nicer place. Hell, the whole town has been inviting and welcoming.” Nate pulled me another beer and slid it in front of me, so I finished the last of my first one and slid the empty glass out of the way.

“Especially Cameron, huh?”

“Yep, you were right about him. I admit it.” All the crap I’d been thinking about on the way over here had me wanting something stronger than beer. “How about a shot of whiskey?”

“You got it. How’s this?” Nate held up a bottle, and after my nod, he pulled out a shot glass and poured the good stuff in it.

I slammed the drink back. “Ah…” Then chased it with the rest of my beer.

After that, I was lightheaded enough to not want to drive, so I called a ride-share to go home. Maybe my folks were right. I wasn’t good enough to make my business work, and I wasn’t good enough for Cameron.

The next day, I had to pick my car up from Pints ‘n Pool, then headed to the brewery. I had to figure out what it would take to rebuild. The number I shot out to that stupid Mitchel was only a smart-ass comment. I had no idea what it would actually take to rebuild.

Lukas was already there, assessing the damage when I walked in. “This is going to be a monster to fix, but it could have been worse. The only equipment damaged was the back vat.”

“What’s wrong with it?” I’d already suspected that was where Mitchel fucked with things.

“Wiring. I think that’s where it started. That ass-wipe tried to make it look like it was the vat that started the fire, but he did a shit job of it. Obviously, it’s been tampered with.” I was thankful for Lukas every day. He did so much more than brew the beer. We were basically a two-and-a-half-man operation here, and we both had to stretch ourselves.

“Did the police finish up with getting prints and photos and everything?”

“Yep. Including pictures of the vat. They released the shop to us this morning.”

I exhaled loudly. This was so much to take in. “Any ideas on cost?”

“Well, for the vat, yes. For the drywall damage? And that.” He looked up at the black, charred rafters. “I don’t know.”

“And the floors.” The linoleum was a curled and peeling, melted-down mess. “The crew will be back today to scrape them out, but they need to take all of it up, even undamaged parts. I want one continuous floor. That’s going to be a beast.”

“Thank goodness you have that GoFundMe money. That’s going to help a lot.”

“What money? What are you talking about?”

“Well, shit.”

“It was Cameron. Wasn’t it?”