Brew or Die

by Caroline Fardig

  —

  Open mic night had just started when I got to Java Jive. It was a fairly packed house with only a few empty tables. As everyone’s attention was trained on the singer onstage, I was able slip in the door unnoticed and find a seat at a table in the corner. From my vantage point, I could clearly see Pete and Alexa sitting together a few tables away, both of them with their backs to me. The problem with this surveillance job was that I’d never be able to hear what they were saying. Maya had a tiny sound amplifier that looked like a Bluetooth headset, but it wasn’t directional, meaning it would blast every sound in the room into my ear at an equally earsplitting volume. Obviously I couldn’t drag the parabolic mic in here, not that it would have been terribly useful in such a small crowded space, either, because it would also pick up too much. I couldn’t lip-read, which I was pretty sure Maya could, although she denied it. That left me with body language. To my disgust, there was more of that going on between the two of them than I would have liked.

  During the song, Pete put his arm across the back of Alexa’s chair. When he did that, she gravitated slightly in his direction. After the song was over, he removed his hand and they started clapping, but then he leaned over to her and whispered something in her ear that made her laugh. As she laughed, she placed her hand on his shoulder. He didn’t make a move to shy away—he only gave her a sincere smile.

  I hadn’t had dinner before I left to go to Maya’s office, so I was starving. But there was no way I could order anything, because I would surely get busted if I spoke to one of my staff. So there I sat, watching Pete on another date with beauty queen Alexa, hungry, nervous, and cranky as hell.

  “Is this seat taken?”

  Gasping, I looked up as Ryder slid into the chair opposite me. “What are you doing? Go away!” I hissed.

  His eyes roamed all over me, taking in my whole hipster getup. “I’m digging you as a blonde.”

  “Shut up! You’re going to ruin my cover. Get out of here.” I put my hand up to shield my face from the rest of the room.

  “Why are you undercover in your own place?”

  “It’s a long story, and I’ll tell you later if you’ll please just get lost.”

  Smirking, he said, “I’ll be looking forward to this one.”

  As he got up, I grabbed his arm. “One thing, would you get me something to eat? I’m seriously hungry but I can’t show my face at the counter.”

  He cocked his head to the side. “You want me to buy you dinner, and I don’t even get to sit with you to eat it?”

  “Yeah, that’s about right.”

  “I don’t think that’s fair.”

  I frowned at him. “Fine. I’ll just sit here and starve, trying not to think about the hundreds of meals I’ve comped you in this place.”

  A slow grin spread over his face. “I’m glad the real Juliet is back. I missed her. Tell you what—I’ll buy you dinner tonight and sit at a different table, but in exchange you have to promise to have dinner at the same table with me soon.”

  I would have agreed to pretty much anything at this point to get some food in my growling belly. “Whatever. Fine. Just go get me something to eat.”

  Ryder left, and I trained my attention back on Pete and Alexa. He had his arm draped over her chair again, and she was leaning into him so close that if they both had turned toward each other, their faces would have been touching. This was too intimate, even for an undercover surveillance mission. Sure, I’d gotten up close and personal with Xander Leonidas, but he’d made all the moves. Pete seemed every bit as into this as Alexa did, and that was what troubled me.

  A couple more performers came and went, and Ryder finally showed up with a plate of food and a coffee. “Your dinner, madam.”

  I smiled in spite of myself. “Thank you.”

  “I’m literally counting the minutes until I get to hear all about this.”

  “Okay, okay. Shoo!”

  He found a seat a couple of tables away, but facing me. Watching me. He was having way too much fun here.

  I dug into my food, blotting out the rest of the world as best I could. If spying on my best friend weren’t bad enough, my ex-boyfriend-turned-investigative-partner watching me do it was even more off-putting. And why was he even here—again?

  I didn’t have to wait too long to find out, because a text from him came in just then: I need to talk to you.

  Can’t it wait? We’re going to be together the whole night.

  I received a Yep, we sure are and a winky face emoticon back from him. Grr. Then I got a If you have that list of employees, I want to run background on them now so we can hit the ground running tomorrow.

  I texted back, Already done. I’ll bring my info tonight. Had he come over only to ask for the list? What a wasted trip.

  When I flicked my eyes up, I caught him smiling at me. I think I like having a partner. Want to join the force?

  Hell no. So he’d get the hint I didn’t want to sit here and text him all night, I added, See you later.

  Pete had gotten out of his seat and was heading for the stage. I pulled my hat down farther, shielding my eyes, and slumped down over my plate. I was pretty sure he wouldn’t be able to see me for the blinding lights facing the stage, but it didn’t hurt to be careful.

  Shane, who ran the show during open mic night, introduced Pete. “Please welcome to the stage the owner of Java Jive, Pete Bennett, our resident guitar player extraordinaire.”

  Pete took the mic from him, chuckling. “Don’t oversell me, man. It’ll make me nervous.”

  The crowd tittered out a bit of laughter. Ryder texted me, He’s such a card.

  I chose to ignore him and instead concentrated on being invisible.

  Pete settled onto the stool onstage and set his guitar on his knee. “I’ll be doing a cover this time.” Looking out in Alexa’s direction and smiling, he added, “You all know this one. It’s called ‘Wonderful Tonight.’ ”

  I rolled my eyes to myself. Anytime Pete wanted to do a number where he could sing and showcase his guitar skills (which were amazing and in all fairness should be showcased) at the same time, he did a Clapton song. This time, though, I thought it was a little over the top, because I was pretty sure the meaning of the song was directed straight at Alexa. Not that she didn’t look wonderful tonight—she’d actually run a brush through her hair for once. But his girlfriend, Brooke, probably wouldn’t appreciate him pointing it out.

  I got another text from Ryder. He’s sooooo dreamy.

  Popping my head up to glare at him, I fired back, Shut up.

  Why is he moving in on that hot chick when he’s still dating Brooke?

  So I wasn’t the only one who noticed. But I didn’t feel like discussing it over texting, so I replied, Why are you still here?

  Because this is infinitely more entertaining than anything on TV.

  I chose to ignore him again and wolf down my dinner so I could get the hell out of here. Pete finished his song, which was of course fantastic as usual, then he went back to his table so Alexa could fawn all over him.

  She threw her arms around him as he sat down. He hugged her back, in no hurry to pull away. I could feel Ryder staring at me, so I snuck a glance at him, only to see him gesturing toward them and mouthing “What the hell?”

  I’d had enough, so I took my phone out and called Pete. He broke out of their hug and frowned at his phone’s screen. He said something to Alexa and took off for the office, answering my call as he went.

  “What’s up?” he asked, his tone sharp.

  “How’s your date going?”

  “It’s not a date,” he said defensively.

  I couldn’t take it anymore. Ending the call, I got up, marched back to the office, and barged in.

  Pete’s jaw dropped. “Jules? Is that you?”

  Ripping off my wig, hat, and glasses, I replied, “Yes, it’s me.”

  His expression was a mix of uncertainty and anger. “Were you here…spying on me?”
>
  “Yes. I thought you were getting too close to your mark, and I was right. Pete, you have to pull back from this.”

  “You don’t get to tell me what to do.”

  I hesitated for a moment, then said quietly, “You like her, don’t you?”

  He looked away from me. “I’m dating Brooke.”

  “Which is a big problem since apparently you’re also dating Alexa.” He started to huff out a reply, but I cut him off. “Pete, I’m not trying to judge you for this. I just think your timing sucks.”

  Wiping a hand down his face, he said, “I know. And you’re right—I do like Alexa. There’s…something about her I can’t resist. If I’m being honest, things with Brooke aren’t that great, and they haven’t been for a while.”

  I hadn’t had any idea, but then again, I also hadn’t seen them together lately. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “Because I didn’t want to seem like a total dick.”

  I smiled. “You can’t help how you feel.”

  “I know, but…I just…I didn’t want to break up with Brooke while she was still healing because I didn’t want her to have any kind of a setback. She’s a great girl, but we don’t like any of the same things. We don’t click. She doesn’t even enjoy music that much, for crying out loud.”

  I went over and gave him a hug. “That’s a real dealbreaker, I know.” When I pulled back, I said, “You have to talk to her. It’s not fair to you or to her to continue a relationship one of you doesn’t want to be in.”

  “I know. Tomorrow is her birthday party, though, so I hate to do it then.”

  “If it’s not working, it’s not working. Bad timing or not.” So as not to be hypocritical by hiding something from him, I admitted, “Speaking of which, Stafford and I broke up today.”

  Pete’s eyes bulged out. “Seriously? Why?”

  “Difference of opinion.”

  “Must have been one hell of a difference.”

  I nodded. “You have no idea.”

  He regarded me closely for a moment. “I hope the difference of opinion wasn’t over Ryder Likeapony. I heard from Wayne that the two of them had words earlier today. And there was some shoving.”

  “Yes, there was shoving and yelling. But I’m telling you in all seriousness, our breakup had nothing to do with Ryder. End of story.”

  “Good enough for me.” He took me by the shoulders. “Are you okay, though? You don’t seem terribly upset. Not that I want you to be.”

  Shaking my head, I replied, “The weirdest part is that I’m not. Am I heartless?”

  Pete chuckled and let me go. “Not at all. You weren’t in love with him or anything, so no harm, no foul. This was your intentional rebound, anyway.”

  It hurt a little that he was thinking of starting another new relationship now that his intentional rebound with Brooke was circling the drain. It was no secret that Pete and I had had feelings for each other for a long time, but we weren’t ready to risk killing our friendship by jumping into a relationship until we were both ready and in a good place. If I was honest with myself, I wasn’t in a good place. I was a complete wreck, and I didn’t know what I wanted.

  “I guess,” I replied.

  “You want to go out and drown your not-so-sorrows? I’ll ditch Alexa—just say the word.”

  Smiling, I replied, “Thanks for the offer, but no. I have work to do tonight, and I can’t be hammered.”

  “With him?” he asked, a frown creasing his face.

  “Yes.”

  “Be safe.”

  —

  I’d gone home for a quick nap before my “cleaning shift” at Wonder-Gen. As I drifted off, I was hoping Laura wouldn’t be in my business like last time, so I could actually go there and do what I was being paid to do instead of scrub disgusting toilets. Unsurprisingly, my dreams were all about me toiling away while Stafford was getting beat up by Wonderlich’s minions, and I wasn’t allowed to break cover to stop it. I did still care about Stafford; I just wasn’t that upset to be without him. Figuring no sleep was preferable to my nightmares, I got out of bed and sat on my couch with my guitar, hoping some music would be good therapy.

  I played through some of my favorites—“You Are Mine” and “It’s You”—then started playing around with a couple of chords I’d heard in one of the songs I’d especially liked from earlier tonight. I didn’t use a D major seven often, but it was pretty sweet-sounding, and a bit of a departure from the simpler, plainer chords I tended to use. Pete was always coming up with unusual chords to use in progressions, so I normally wrote lyrics and melodies and turned my songs over to him to come up with chords to fit. But something about this chord and the other ones it lent itself to was inspiring me to come up with my own song, start to finish. And I had a shitload of feelings to put on paper, so after scribbling down my thoughts for only a few minutes I had way more lyrics than I could fit into one song.

  I picked out similar lines and decided on which ones I liked for the chorus, then put them together with my own progression, singing:

  What if I fall? Would I have the strength to get back up again?

  What if I fall? Would we see it through?

  What if I fall? Would I lose myself again?

  What if I fall? What if I fall for you?

  It was getting there, but I didn’t care for the fact that I’d rhymed “again” with “again,” “would” was overused, and the first line had too many syllables. I tweaked it a bit and sang through the revised version:

  What if I fall? Would you be there to catch me?

  What if I fall? This time will we see it through?

  What if I fall? Would I lose myself again?

  What if I fall? What if I fall for you?

  That one was a keeper. As I was getting ready to dive into the verses, there was a knock at my door. When I looked at the clock, I realized I’d lost track of time. I hurried over and found Ryder outside, smiling.

  “In the spirit of our newfound honesty with each other, I feel the need to admit I’ve been standing out here for a minute or two listening to you sing.”

  I was too busy staring at all the muscles bulging out of the black tank top he was wearing to be able to voice a reply.

  He said, “I liked the song. Is it new? Did you write it?”

  Forcing my eyes to meet his, I said lamely, “Um…yeah. To both questions.” Then I blurted out, “Why are you wearing that?”

  Chuckling, he said, “I’m going there to talk to your female witness. Don’t tell me you’ve never shown some skin to get someone of the opposite sex to speak to you more freely.”

  I was way guilty of that, but this was going to be incredibly distracting for me. “Still. A wife-beater?”

  “It makes me come off more street and less like a cop.” He flexed his arms, making his tribal tattoos ripple. “What’s the matter—don’t you think she’ll appreciate the gun show?”

  And now I was over it. Rolling my eyes, I said, “You’re so vain.”

  “I am. I probably think that song is about me.”

  “It isn’t,” I replied quickly. “But nice touch quoting Carly Simon at me, since she’s one of my songwriting idols.”

  “I know. I remember.”

  I didn’t know how to react to that, so I said, “Come on in. I need to change.”

  Ryder walked in and made himself at home on my couch. “What will it take to get you to put the blond wig back on?”

  “Shut up!” I called on my way to my bedroom.

  Chapter 26

  Ryder chuckled all the way to Wonder-Gen while I told him about why I was spying on Pete chatting up Alexa at Java Jive earlier. But once we got there, he slipped into serious cop mode, which he hadn’t done around me lately. I supposed it made all the difference to him that we were physically in an undercover situation rather than simply surveilling from a safe distance. He was even packing his gun in an ankle holster. Thomas Gentry was at the front door waiting for us as we approached. His eyes darted w
arily to Ryder and his beefy tattooed shoulders, then to me.

  Clearing his throat, he said, “This is your colleague you were telling me about?”

  “Yes, this is Ryder H— I mean, Smith.” At my near blunder, I noticed Ryder’s expression darken and Gentry take a step back from him. I elbowed Ryder in the ribs. “He’s not as menacing as he looks,” I said pointedly.

  He pasted on a smile and put his hand out to Gentry. “Sorry, sir. I’m only being cautious and keeping my wits about me.”

  Seeming relieved, Gentry shook hands with him. “That’s good. I appreciate that.” He turned to me and placed a set of keys in my hand. “Here are the keys. My computer password is Lola again, if you should need it. Now, if there’s nothing else, I’ll be running along home. I admit I’m not sleeping well these days.”

  I patted his arm. “Let us do the worrying, Mr. Gentry.”

  “Thank you. Good night.”

  Ryder and I slipped inside, and I led him down the hall to the cleaning supply closet to meet Laura and Su-Lin.

  I murmured, “You nearly scared that poor man out of his mind.”

  “He’s Wonderlich’s business partner. With what he’s going to have to go through when the guy gets busted, it’s time for him to sack up.”

  When we got to the closet, Laura and Su-Lin were already there, filling carts and buckets with supplies for the night.

  “Hey, ladies,” I said.

  Laura turned and started a bit when she laid eyes on Ryder. She snipped at me, “You didn’t bother to show up for work on Sunday night, Brandi.”

  Ryder covered a snort of laughter with a loud cough.

  Knowing better than to take Laura’s bait, I lied, “My agency scheduled me somewhere else for Sunday. I hope it didn’t put too much work on you.”

  “Well, it did. And that other girl, what’s her name…Lola…didn’t show, either.”

  I said, “She had a family emergency, so while she’s out of town, the agency sent a replacement.” I gestured to Ryder. In a flash of comic genius, I hid a smile and said, “This is Seth. Seth Davis. Seth, this is Laura.”