“I can get behind using some high-quality beer in my cooking.” Cash growled pensively. “I could do some kind of southern-style beer shrimp and grits…” He narrowed his eyes, as if he was envisioning the ingredients he’d put in it.

“I’d eat some of that,” I said enthusiastically.

This was what I’d always dreamed of, this collaboration of sorts, though we hadn’t taken time before now to discuss it in detail. Cash was the kind of guy you couldn’t order around or try to dictate the specifics of his dishes, so you had to approach it carefully. Make him think it was his idea.

“You guys have a timeframe yet?” Seth asked as he piled onion rings and wings on his plate.

“My goal is to be open by July Fourth.”

“Two and a half months,” Seth said. “That’s ambitious.”

“It’ll be tight,” I said, “but we want to take advantage of the busiest week of the year.”

“Smart.” Seth looked thoughtful while he chewed an onion ring. “You said you’re working with a branding expert?”

“A damn good one from what I saw in our first meeting. He should have some tangibles for us next week.”

“I’d love to see them. We’ll want to tie them into the restaurant stuff. We should use the beer logos on the menu, for starters. With that and some new dishes from Cash, it’s the perfect time for new menus.”

We talked business details for a few more minutes, even though that hadn’t been the point of the get-together. Don’t get me wrong, we also downed some of all three beers, each of which sparked Cash’s culinary creative chops, to the extent he started jotting ideas on a napkin.

I couldn’t remember the last time the three of us had had such a good time together, with no power struggles, no put-downs, no pissing each other off. Sure, we talked business, but it was a laid-back discussion, planning for the near future instead of focusing on the restaurant’s day-to-day. Pretty sure the beer helped—and the fact that both my brothers seemed to genuinely love what I’d created. Maybe this was the screwed-up shit in my head, but for the first time, they treated me like a peer more than the dipshit youngest brother who perpetually rode their coattails.

Somehow we got to talking about our childhoods, laughing about the ways I used to get into trouble, even in grade school, and the time Seth had acted like the world was ending because he’d gotten a B on a chemistry test in high school and how Cash had had two girls get in a fistfight over him in ninth grade. The plates of food were empty, and still we lingered as it crept close to midnight.