The Right Brew: The Men of Marionville, #9

By KC Kendricks

Hollis Milnor didn't think twice about moving to Marionville. His ailing cousin needs his help running his nightclub, Frolic, and Hollis needs to put some space between himself and an ex-boyfriend determined to make his life miserable. Management skills he has. Experience running a nightclub, not so much, but he's a quick learner. 

Caleb Brewer is a steady, hard-working man establishing a microbrewery. He's got a great product and demand for it is growing. When a new manager takes over the hottest nightclub in Marionville, Caleb is determined to maintain the arrangements he made with the owner.

What starts out as business quickly heats up the summer nights. Hollis hesitates, reluctant to step over the legal line. Caleb isn't just a vendor. He works part-time at the nightclub. Becoming involved puts them both in murky waters, waters that become crystal clear when the past catches up with Hollis and puts everyone he loves in danger.     

_*_*_

Caleb eased down in the wing chair and stretched out his long legs. "Did we sorta get off on the wrong foot here? I can't afford to have that happen."

I gave him points for directness. He didn't aim to come off as being abrupt. He simply kept everything right out front. 

"I know. It's my fault, Caleb, and I'm sorry. I'm here to manage the nightclub, not get personally involved with any of the men working within the business end of things."

"Fair enough. I thought that might be it, but I wanted to be sure that's all it was. Now I need to ask you this." He took a deep breath. "Would you like to have dinner with me tonight? I'd like to talk about some business."

I admit getting involved with the hired help wasn't a good idea and he comes back with an invitation to dinner?

We could talk ideas and possibilities for our respective ventures right now. We didn't need food, wine and the privacy of a crowded restaurant, but what better way to learn more about him? 

"I guess I do need to eat sometime."

His blue gaze locked on mine. "I think I like that you had to consider it. Too much impulse can lead a man astray."

"Is that where you'd like to go? Astray?"

His eyes sparkled with humor. "I've been there before so I know which road not to take."

"Same here. Tell me something. How long have you been connected with Frolic?"

"Not long. Maybe a year. Why?"

I grinned at him. "You might have information useful to me."

He rolled his eyes and lifted his gaze to the ceiling. "And that, Caleb Brewer, is why the man agreed to have dinner with you."

 I chuckled. "Talk to yourself often, do you? I like to keep things above board, too. So, yeah, I'm going to ask you a bunch of questions, but I think I'll really enjoy having dinner with you."

"I get it, and it's okay. So how about I meet you about seven o'clock? At The Wharf?"

"I've heard about the place. Give me your phone number in case something happens and I can't get away on time. I can at least let you know I'm running late and why."

We exchanged cell numbers and he held his hand out as he stood to leave. I reached out and his fingers closed around mine. The shock of his warm palm against mine turned my arm to lead. He let go of me.

"It's not a date, Hollis. Not if you don't want it to be."

It wasn't until he'd disappeared I realized I rather wished it were.   

• Language: English
• Publisher: White Deer Enterprises/White Deer Books
• Release date: Jul 21, 2016
• ISBN: 9781536505498

KC Kendricks

KC Kendricks calls herself an accidental writer. After completing her first novel writing as Rayne Forrest, she was urged to submit it to a publisher, and everything snowballed from there. Today, the author has had over seventy books published. In July of 2021, she tried to retire but her employer offered her a deal to work at home. She accepted. Now she balances work, writing, and hearth and home in a controlled chaos. A native of scenic western Maryland, the author enjoys most activities that don’t include snow. In warm weather she might be found walking the dog, biking on the C&O Canal towpath, planting delicacies in her garden for the deer to munch on at night, playing in the creek, or lazing on the patio with her Kindle reader or laptop. She recently began to research her family history and can't drive past a cemetery without stopping to search for family sites. Her mission is to photograph old tombstones before the elements erode the stones and the names are lost to time. For more about KC Kendricks and Rayne Forrest’s writing life, please visit the Between the Keys blog at http:kckendricks.blogspot.com . If you’d like to know more about the author’s country lifestyle and her daily activities full of simple country pleasures (and a lot of work), please visit the Holly Tree Manor blog at http://hollytreemanor.blogspot.com . KC can be reached through her blog, Between the Keys. All comments are strictly moderated by the author and personal messages are treated as such. Follow the author on Twitter for up-to-date announcements at Twitter.com/KCKendricks.

Book preview

The Right Brew

by

KC Kendricks

––––––––

Second Edition

This book was previously published. The title and author remain the same.

This book is a work of fiction. While references to actual places or events may occur, the names, characters, incidents and locations are from the author’s imagination and any resemblance to anyone, living or dead, is coincidental.

––––––––

Copyright © 2016, 2021 KC Kendricks

Cover art © 2016 KC Kendricks

All Rights Reserved

Reproduction of this digital e-book for file sharing or selling, regardless of whether any type of currency is exchanged, other than what the author grants in writing, is strictly prohibited by law. Piracy is a crime.

This book is intended for mature readers.

Published in the United States of America

About The Right Brew

Hollis Milnor didn’t think twice about moving to Marionville. His ailing cousin needs his help running his nightclub, Frolic, and Hollis needs to put some space between himself and an ex-boyfriend determined to make his life miserable. Management skills he has. Experience running a nightclub, not so much, but he’s a quick learner. 

Caleb Brewer is a steady, hard-working man establishing a microbrewery. He’s got a great product and demand for it is growing. When a new manager takes over the hottest nightclub in Marionville, Caleb is determined to maintain the arrangements he made with the owner.

What starts out as business quickly heats up the summer nights. Hollis hesitates, reluctant to step over the legal line. Caleb isn’t just a vendor. He works part-time at the nightclub. Becoming involved puts them both in murky waters, waters that become crystal clear with the past catches up with Hollis and puts everyone he loves in danger. 

Praise for the writing of KC Kendricks

KC Kendricks never disappoints!"—Fallen Angel Reviews

..beautifully moving in all the right places...KC Kendricks gives us a well-crafted tale- The Romance Studio

Good to the last word....- Sensual Reads

...Seriously entertaining and totally engaging...- Joyfully Reviewed

...solidly written contemporary romance...-Jessewave

The Men of Marionville Series

A Hard Habit to Break

Open Roads

What You Don’t Confess

Your Whisper in the Dark

A Cat Named Hercules

Leather Jackets

Station to Station

Dreams to Sell

The Right Brew

Where There’s Smoke

Bourbon & Blues

Twice Removed From Yesterday

Table of Contents

The Right Brew

About The Right Brew

Praise for the writing of KC Kendricks

Table of Contents

CHAPTER 1

CHAPTER 2

CHAPTER 3

CHAPTER 4

CHAPTER 5

CHAPTER 6

CHAPTER 7

CHAPTER 8

CHAPTER 9

CHAPTER 10

CHAPTER 11

CHAPTER 12

CHAPTER 13

CHAPTER 14

CHAPTER 15

CHAPTER 16

CHAPTER 17

EPILOGUE

Books by KC Kendricks

About the Author

A bonus read from Where There’s Smoke

Dear Readers,

CHAPTER 1

Say the word family and it will elicit a different reaction from every person you know. Some are blessed to live among a happy clan with fond memories of growing up. Others are not so lucky. Most of us, at least in my experience, fall somewhere in between. Mine is a mixed bag of unique individuals, and I’m fortunate to count very few of them among the folks I never want to see again. When someone mentions family to me, my first cousin James comes to mind even before my parents, although, as parents, it would hurt them to know I felt that way. James was more like a brother. We’d shared a lot of secrets growing up.

Business is another matter. I like to think of myself as upwardly mobile even though I possess a self-imposed height I’ve no desire to pass. I don’t aspire to reach the highest pinnacle of position without something in my life to provide a good grounding. So far, nothing in my thirty-eight years had come close to being a counter-balance, much less an anchor.

So what did I want to do? Go up another rung on the company ladder or take care of family? I stared at the cell phone I held in my shaking left hand as if it could illuminate the correct path for me to take.

In truth there was only one. My cousin James had been diagnosed with cancer, a lymphoma, and he’d asked for my help managing his nightclub while he underwent treatment. I couldn’t say no to him even though moving to Marionville was nowhere near attaining a spot on my bucket list.

What I didn’t need to say to James was the brutal truth that moving to Marionville also provided an elegant solution to a problem I’d been dealing with for almost two years. My cousin already knew. My last serious lover refused to accept our relationship was over. I’d sleep better in Marionville knowing my tires would be intact in the morning and Kurt wouldn’t be leaning on the fender of my car, smirking, and offering me a ride to work.

I grimaced. Thinking about my bucket list was pretty damn tacky with James facing the fight of his life. I couldn’t even fault him for sending a text message to break the bad news. I lifted the phone and tapped the screen. James answered promptly.

Okay, James. I’ll be there in a month. I have to give that much notice to the board of directors here.

I love you like a brother, Hollis. If this doesn’t go well... His voice broke. I listened to him struggle to catch his breath. I needed to be there and lend him my strength.

Don’t talk like that. They’ve refined treatments these days. And hell, I could be a bone marrow match or a...a...whatever they need for you, if it comes to that. We are first cousins.

He cleared his throat. And, if you ask me, we’re proof gay is genetic. Even Grandma has come around to believing it.

That’s because you indulge her every whim. Does she know?

Not yet, so don’t call her. I need to tell her before I tell my folks because they’ll try to hide it from her. I’m not planning on checking out, you know. But I’m sorta scared of the ‘what if’ possibilities.

We’ll get you through it. And I’ve always thought Frolic sounded like a really neat place. Are you sure you want to pay me that much money to manage it for you?

I keep up on you. I read the articles on Dawson’s Manufacturing. I know what kind of money you’re walking away from to come here. To put your mind at ease, if you think Frolic doesn’t rake in enough money to pay you a three-year, half a million-dollar contract, I assure you it does. 

It’s about you, cuz. Not the money. Besides, you’ll be through treatment and back to work in a lot less than three years.

Probably, but once I’m cured, I need to deliver on a promise to Brad that we’d someday indulge in a nice, long vacation on a warm, sunny island so he can photograph and paint to his heart’s desire. I want to do that for him, and for me. I heard him sigh. Brad’s really glad you’re coming, Hollis. He just doesn’t have the management acumen to run the club.

No one wants to lose you, J. Tell Brad I got it covered and his job is looking after you. I gotta get back to work. Start sending me the financial reports and shit, okay?

You’ll get them by the end of the day so keep an eye on your inbox. And thanks, Hollis. I’m so glad you’ll be here, and not just to run the club.

Yeah, yeah. Let’s not get all maudlin. I love ya, James. See you soon.

I disconnected the call before he could say anything else.

Jesus. My first and dearest friend. My blood kin. I’d kick his ass all the way to cured if I had to.

I typed and printed a short, to the point letter of resignation and walked down the long hall to the owner’s office.

*      *      *

Marionville had grown by leaps and bounds since my last visit several years ago for a family reunion. James, Brad and I had parked our chairs in the cool shade of a big maple tree to spend the afternoon shooting the breeze. I forgot to be envious of his happy partnering with Brad as James had spoken of his recent purchase of a large, abandoned warehouse and his plans to convert the almost thirty thousand square foot shell into not only a gay nightclub, but a safe haven for our community. I’d wished him good luck and kept my doubts to myself. Were there really enough gays in Marionville and the surrounding counties to support the venture? The answer to that question turned out to be a resounding yes.

When I stepped inside the club, James greeted me with a big hug. I clung to him for a bit longer than usual. He didn’t look ill, but that was part of the insidious nature of the disease. Thank God the man had regular blood tests that had indicated something was happening, and thank God for a physician focused enough to spot it.

He gave me a last squeeze and pulled away. Welcome to Frolic. He waved his arm over his head in a circle. This is the entrance way.

I made a face at him. I got that part.

He grinned and continued. Down these four steps to the double doors and to the dance floor. Stairs to the left of the coatroom go down to the Cancun Bar, and the stairs to the right of the coatroom go up to the Tea Room. How about the dollar tour?

I’d love it! Last time in town, all I got to see was the outside of an empty building.

James put his hand in the middle of my back and guided me through the doors to the dance hall. Several large mirrored disco balls hung from the preserved industrial ceiling. The steel girders were painted a glossy black to help reflect the spinning lights. My praise was genuine.

Wow. This is impressive.

He pointed. Stage for live acts, and over there is the DJ booth. He pointed to the left. Behind the glass wall up there, is the Tea Room. During dance hours, some sections have a water curtain between the layers of glass.

Deadens the noise?

Yep, somewhat. Plus, the Tea Room floor and the lower section of wall at the staircase are sound proofed. Some Tea Room patrons like to watch the dancers and some don’t so they can pick a table accordingly.

I was impressed. He’d put a lot of thought - and money - into doing it right. I really want to see the Tea Room.

He grinned. Let me show you this, first. This is why I’m always in trouble with the city commissioners. There’s a bouncer tasked with keeping an eye on things in here.

James led me through an archway lit with sparkling white lights that was tucked in between the stage and the DJ booth. I stepped through the black drapes and stopped in my tracks.

Holy shit. You weren’t joking. You do have an honest to God back room.

He laughed. Yes, I do. A den of iniquity.

I strolled along the hall, counting. There were fifteen little alcoves, each with a bi-fold door, and each with a condom dispenser on the wall. Playing safe cost a quarter and, at that price, I made a mental note to get some coins and stock up. A small bathroom occupied the far corner.

They don’t look that wicked to me. I picked up a box of wet wipes. Privacy, safety and cleanliness all provided.

"Boys will be boys. You know they’re going to do it, so we do what we can for them. As I point out to the city