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before the year was up. But he needed help, and Gavin needed to make the lazy distributor snap-to and start really selling their product. Traynor Wholesalers was old school—had too much invested in the macro brews they represented and were a bunch of order takers, not sales people that Ian needed to get his new products into the market.
    “Are you even listening to me?” Gavin demanded.
    Ian stood putting his hands on his brother’s shoulders. It felt beyond strange being the one, instead of Gavin, who was calm, the one who could make the right choices for success, but he was resolved in this thing now. He wanted Ypsi Brewing to take the next step and knew Gavin was being tight fisted about another employee when he didn’t need to be. “Take off the bean-counter hat a sec, Gav. You know as well as I do that someone who really knows how to sell, who can come up with a coherent marketing plan that encompasses both the wholesale and retail side will be worth every penny. If we troll around up at EMU, I’ll bet we can find a starving MBA grad eager for a paycheck. Right?” He leaned down, tried to catch his brother’s eyes.
    “Yeah.” Gavin shrugged him off, sat, and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “You’re right. Shit.” He sighed and stared into the middle distance.
    Ian tried to rustle up some sympathy, but found only “It’s-About-Time-itis” with regard to his brother’s frustration. “Okay, so I’ll post an ad on Craigslist and on our website. I say we see what we get and determine salary value then.” He turned to his screen and started fiddling with recipes and checking fermentation temps before heading back towards the small lab.
    They’d turned the empty auto factory into a twenty-thousand square foot brewery, plus three thousand square foot pub that on most nights was standing room only. Ian was happy with his life, if a little lonely for adult companionship beyond what his brother and the sparse brewery staff provided. He glanced at his phone, noting the time and realized if he didn’t hurry he’d be late to get Jamie from the daycare…again. He grinned, picturing the boy’s eager face and bright green eyes. He was pretty much a small replica of Ian, right down to his knee-jerk temper and apparent need for constant stimulus and movement. He tossed his stuff in his backpack and headed out; convinced he could find a sales specialist and really get things rolling in a successful direction.
     

     
    “I met somebody.”
    Ian looked up from his appraisal of the new fermentation vessel’s temperature controls at the sound of his brother’s voice. He frowned at the odd expression on Gavin’s face. The man’s first marriage had been one of similar tastes, drive, and looks. Ian had hated her guts from the start. She was the worst kind of social-climbing fake bitch and had shown her true colors clearly in the last few years, keeping the twins away as much as possible from their father while demanding ever more in alimony and child support. Ian knew not having his sons around nearly killed Gavin on a daily basis and was only just beginning to understand how awful that must be. His nephews were in Michigan this month, however, spending time with their dad while their mother worked on snagging rich husband number two.
     “Cool. Who? Where?” He kept busy wrapping up the brewing day and ignored the small voice reminding him how much he still lacked physical grown up company. They’d had great response to their call for a marketing director in the last few weeks, and he was working on a group interview, but still wanted to make one more contact over at Eastern Michigan’s Business School. A couple more decent candidates would be ideal before he brought them all in for a group-think session so he could see who stood out from the crowd, but he was honestly happy for his brother. “That explains the goofy ass look on your face. I assume you’ve gotten laid?”
    “Maybe. It’s