Janet Evanovich - Love in a Nutshell

The brewer opened his beer with a well-practiced motion. “It’s good to know what weapons a woman can use against you.”

Matt’s thoughts traveled the road south, back to Keene’s Harbor and Kate Appleton. Weapons like wide hazel eyes and a mouth made to linger over? Oh, yeah. That was good stuff to know.

Travis waggled the opener in front of Matt’s nose. “You coming bt hYou comack from wherever you are?”

Unfortunately, yes. He took the opener and dispatched his beer cap.

“I’ve learned there’s no good way to start a conversation like this, so I’m just going to put it out there,” Matt said. “Word is, you’re having cash-flow problems.”

Travis took a long pull on his beer. “Bull. Where’d you hear that?”

Matt shrugged. “You know how it goes. There aren’t that many of us in the business, relatively speaking, and we’ve all got bar gossip down. They were just a couple of passing comments, but enough that I wanted to talk to you.”

Silent and clearly torn between anger and embarrassment, Travis turned his attention to the television. Matt did the same.

After the Spartans completed a fourth-down conversion that was a work of art, Travis asked, “If I do have a cash crunch, why would you care?”

“A few reasons. First, I like your product. And you remind me of me, ten years ago. You’ve got all the enthusiasm of a homebrewer and, unfortunately, all the business skills of one, too. But I think, given some time, you’re gonna kick ass.”

“If I’m so hot, why didn’t you hire me as a brewer when I came to you four years ago?”

“You and Bart working together?” he asked, referring to his brewmaster. “One or both of you would have been dead inside a month.”

Bart was one of Matt’s closest friends, and also the only guy out there who could consistently kick Matt’s butt at poker. Bart’s competitive streak didn’t stop at cards, either. When it came to beer, he was as determined to remain top dog as Travis was to attain that status.

Travis scratched the spider tattoo on the side of his neck. “Suppose I was having money troubles, just what is it you’re proposing?”

“A loan and a leg up,” Matt said. “There’s a niche market I think you can fill. And I also think you can help me. You have both the skills and the edgy attitude for a project I’m working on.”

Travis shook his head. “So you think I’m good, but not good enough to make it big?”

“Not yet.”

“You pulled it off.”

“Yeah, but I also screwed up plenty along the way. Why not ride along on a little of what I’ve learned, like how you’re killing yourself by changing up recipes so often? It’s like you’ve got beer ADD.”

“So what? I like creating.”

“You probably also like keeping the lights on and heat running in your brewhouse, too.”

“Yeah.”

“Winter is coming. Business might be so-so at best for you right now, but in another month, no one is going to follow that donkey trail out to your place. What then?”

“I’ll deal with that when I get there,” Travis said.

“Wrong. Too late then. You always have to have a plan.”

“I can think on my feet. It’s all good.”

“You can also fall on your ass. Out of curiosity, how much do you need to get through the winter?”

Travis took a swig of his beer, clearly considering the matter. “Thirty grand.”

Yeah, the guy had major cojones . “Okay, how much do you need if you don’t spend February in Mexico or whatever you’ve factored in there?”

“Twelve to fifteen grand, assuming prices stay stable,” he said. “I don’t suppose Ginger has that much cash hidden in a secret compartment in her desk?”

“No, but for the right terms, I can scrape it up.”

“So, deal.”

“Any money I lend you is going to come with an interest rate of five points above prime. And no complaining about the rate, because it’s more than fair. It’s a gift. If you’re at the point I was when starting out, your equipment is leveraged to the hilt and you have no other assets.”

“Close,” Travis admitted. “I’ve got my car and my house, both of which are mortgaged.”

“Okay, then. For any outstanding loan, you pay me interest only for twenty-four months, with the balance due at the end of that time. I don’t cut into your cash flow with principal payments, and in exchange, I get the exclusive right to feature your beers in a restaurant here in Traverse City. You can sell by bottle in markets, but I’m it otherwise.”

Travis’s pierced eyebrow met his unpierced one. “Small point, but you don’t have a restaurant here. Best I can tell, you’ve got nothing north of Keene’s Harbor.”

No shock that Travis wasn’t aware of Matt’s activities. Under the radar was generally his style. Exactly four people on the planet knew about his Tropicana buy, and that he was already corporate angel to another struggling brewpub in this city’s warehouse district: Bart, Ginger, his lawyer, and his accountant. And Matt trusted all of them not to spread news until he was ready to have it spread. What Matt did outside of Depot Brewing was his business and his way of stepping out from under the microscope that could be Keene’s Harbor.

“I’ll have a place for your beer by next Memorial Day,” he said to Travis. Assuming spring actually arrived in April and he could get the footings dug. That was a dicey proposition near the tip of Michigan’s mitten.

“What happens if I can’t pay you back?”

“I’m not through with the conditions yet. You also have to agree to have Bart come up and do a one-week consult with you on your recipes. They’re original, for sure, but rough yet.”

Travis pushed out of his chair. “No way am I consulting with that jerk.”

Matt fought to hide his grin. His reaction would have been the same, back when. “Huh. And yet you wanted to work for him.”

“I was desperate.”

Matt didn’t reply. Travis would do the math and see he was desperate now. To point that out would cut into the guy’s spirit, and Matt liked that spirit, warped as it was.

Travis stalked over to the television set, blocking Matt’s view. No problem. Travis could contemplate wherever he wanted. He drew down his beer and thought about taking the rest of the jalapeño chips. Except, as he recalled, Ginger also usually had some locally made sourdough pretzels in her stash. He leaned over and reached into the appropriate drawer.

Travis swung around and faced Matt when he was halfway through his second pretzel twist.

“For fifteen grand upfront, I can kiss up to Bart,” Travis said.

“Twelve grand.”

While Matt was fair, he wasn’t into giving away money. “And just so you know the final deal points, before you get dime one, you need a business plan. A real one on paper and with financial projections that I have approved. And if you default any principal payment, I get a controlling interest in Horned Owl Brewery.”

Travis went slack-jawed. “So if twelve grand is all you end up lending me, you think that should entitle you to run my life?”

“If you can’t pay me back, maybe you need someone to run your life for a while. And at least I’m giving you a fair shot at making it.”

“The last four years of my life are worth more than twelve grand.”

“I can’t deny that,” Matt said. “But that’s the price of a start-up. Hell, I did the math on what I was earning per hour after my first year and almost crawled under my bed. It was depressing and unfair. But you have to look at it from my side now. If Horned Owl fails-and I don’t think it will-all that money buys me is some recipes, beer names, and label art.”

“So why are you doing it?”