I walked around and took a seat on one of the barstools, grabbing some of the papers, eager to look over what he’d collected.

I’d wanted to go with him but hadn’t been able to make this one work at the restaurant because one of our assistant managers was out of town. Turned out it was a good thing I’d stayed home, what with the eventful week between Chloe and me.

“It hit on some of the legal and trademark stuff we’ve been trying to figure out,” he continued. “I’ve got the materials here, plus a notebook full of notes. You can take them home and read them. The marketing sessions got my brain going and I’m not anything close to a marketing guy. That doesn’t even touch on the ones about brewing specifics. You know those always get me revved up. I went to a session on water-soluble hops. My head was about to explode.”

He wasn’t normally a fast talker, but he was going a mile a minute now, like if he didn’t spew everything he’d learned in the next five minutes, it would disappear. His excitement was contagious.

He finally paused and took a drink of the beer I’d given him. “This is some damn good stuff. You made improvements.” He took another swallow, analyzing. “They worked.”

“I’m finally happy with it,” I told him. “Still working on the lager.”

Kemp was full of energy even though it was nearing nine p.m. and he’d been traveling for most of the day. After another good swig, he said, “We need to talk about more investor targets. I’m ready to do this. Beyond ready, and I know you are too.”

This was the part I was waiting for, but I tried to play it cool. “Actually,” I said, then I picked up the beer, took a couple of gulps, let the fruity flavor linger on my tongue, thinking that it was one of the best mixes I’d made. “It’s been an eventful week.”

“Yeah?” Kemp asked, finally seeming to really look at me. “Busy at the restaurant?”

“We’re always busy at the restaurant,” I said. “What would you say if I told you I got an investment commitment for a quarter mil?”

“I’d tell you to shut the fuck up.” Kemp stood straighter, his eyes went wide, and he watched me expectantly as if trying to determine whether I was shitting him or not.

As if I would joke about this. I continued to look back at him, trying to keep my face serious, but my lips couldn’t help twitching toward a grin.

“You’re serious, aren’t you?” he asked in what could only be called an explosion of words and emotion. “What the hell, man? Who’d you find? Where did this come from?”