Page 50 of The Boyfriend Experience

But he doesn’t answer. Just waits for Law to sign the little machine to finalize the sale and then hands him a receipt and our bags.

“Let’s go,” Law says, holding onto my arm as he starts making for the door.

I let him lead me because I really do not want to lose my temper in this store. I really don’t. But as soon as we’re outside, I whirl around and snap, “Tell me what’s going on!”

“I will,” Law says calmly. “But we’re gonna walk home while I do that. OK?”

“You’re talking to me like I’m a crazy person!”

“I think you have serious crazy potential inside you, Oaks. And I want you to stay calm.”

“OMG, it’s bad, right? Just tell me!”

“Promise me we’ll keep walking and you won’t explode in public.”

I take a deep breath. We’re only a few blocks away from my house and I just want to get there. Like… right now. Because I feel like I’m going to cry. So I say, “I promise,” in the most reasonable tone I can muster up.

“OK. So here’s the deal. Two weeks ago Hanna Harlow came in asking about room on the tap.”

“Mmm-hmm,” I say through tight lips. “Got it.”

“She was told about your deal and that they only serve Bronco Brews at the downtown Shrike showroom bar.”

“OK.”

“And she pointed out that Buffalo Brews won Best Brew in Denver this year in the Westword.”

The Westword is the cool free weekly newspaper. All the hipsters read it with their Sunday bagel each weekend. So that contest was no joke. I didn’t even enter this year.

“And…” Law says, dragging out the word. “She also mentioned that it was very similar to Bucked Up, so they should just take Bucked Up off the tap and put up Buffalo Brews Buffed Up instead.”

I stop walking so I can face him. “And they said yes?”

“Oaklee,” he says, still calm. “You promised not to make a scene.”

I look around and realize everyone is now staring at me because I was screaming. So I take another deep breath, close my eyes for the count of three, open them back up, and say, “I’m under control. Go on.”

“The bar manager said yes.”

“Those motherfuckers.” I seethe it. But I’m walking again. I didn’t scream. I’m in control. “I’m going to kill the Shrikes.”

“Now wait a minute,” Law says. “Chuck—who I take it is some kind of manager of the showroom?”

“He runs the whole place, yes.”

“Well, Chuck told the bar manager not to put it on tap until you had a meeting with them. So they’re gonna call you and set that up for next week. But until then, they will only be serving Bronco Brews at the bar. So see, it’s all gonna work out.”

“No, it isn’t. She’s gonna talk her way into my tap. She’s gonna lie her ass off, and get her way, and I’m going to be left with nothing by the time she’s done with me.”

“No,” he says. “That’s not going to happen. Because we’re going to come up with a plan. OK? A logical plan. We’re going to stay focused, and be calm, and we’re going to prove she stole your recipe and tell the whole world about it.”

“How?”

“Stop yelling, Oaklee.”

Oh, my God. I’m so pissed. But I take another deep breath and growl, “How are we going to prove it, Lawton?”

He sighs. “I dunno yet. We’ll host a taste test maybe. Get people in the door and have them do a blind taste test and make them realize it’s the same beer.”