Free Games We Play by Ruthie Robinson Page B

kitchen supplies were kept. The brewery and its storage and refrigeration area were located at the opposite end of the building. His office and the kitchen shared the same rectangular space—his office was on one end, separated from the kitchen by the supplies area. He passed through the door that led to the kitchen.
    “We good here?” he asked Alex, his chef, who was standing next to the door.
    “Sure,” Alex said, nodding. It was busy in the kitchen—fifteen staff members were on duty today, seven waiters and waitresses, moving fast and efficiently to deliver food to their customers. There were two dining areas, one inside, one out. The Coopersville Brewpub was as famous for its good food as it was its beer.
    There was just as much of an art to pairing beer with food as there was with wine. They made sandwiches with Alex’s special bread, thick, decadent sandwiches served with thick and decadent fries, pizzas smothered in new and unusual toppings, as well as dishes like the shrimp-and-grits special. Cooper wouldn’t have put shrimp and grits together, but here it worked. Along with the beer, the food was what kept people returning for more. Alex was one heck of a chef, and Cooper tried to make sure he was happy. Whatever Alex wanted, Alex usually got.
    Brewpub food was filled with flavors to accompany the flavorful beer served here, which was light years in taste as far as you could get from the liquid that passed for beer elsewhere in the state. He didn’t even consider that watered-down nonsense beer. Made to please everyone, it was free from any discernable taste, and it satisfied no one. Yeah, that was his opinion, and apparently he wasn’t alone, because craft beer in the US was quietly making a comeback.
    The Brewpub was not really his, but a co-op, with membership open to the town, and that had also been a lifelong dream of his—to have a business different from his father’s. It had turned out better than he’d imagined. He walked out of the kitchen and over to the bar area. Junior stood there, a look of expectation on his face.
    “What’s up?” Cooper asked when he reached him.
    “I need to leave, an emergency…something just came up. Can you give me thirty minutes? I promise I’ll be back,” he said, at his most earnest. Cooper studied him for a few seconds before nodding his approval.
    “Thanks, Coop,” he said, practically running to the exit.
    The bar was a backwards C shape, made of granite, courtesy of his family’s quarry. He’d hand-selected it. Smooth white stone treated to withstand the rigors of daily use in the Brewpub.
    Coop took his place behind the bar and checked his watch again.
    “Is that smile for me?” asked Donna, his most experienced waitress on duty this morning. This weekend, it was all hands on deck, including the two new employees Luis had hired.
    “Was I smiling?” he said, looking up.
    Donna was two years out of high school, and she worked at his place full-time and the bingo hall part-time. She was a young, pretty African American woman, with a nice figure; plentiful, long hair; polished nails; short skirts; tight clothing…and, most importantly, she was on the prowl for someone to take care of her. She was way too young for him.
    “Have you met your new employees?” she asked.
    “No, I’ve not had the pleasure yet.”
    “I’ll introduce you to one of them. She came through the door behind me a few minutes ago, and of course I’m the one training her today,” she said, all put upon.
    “There is no one better at it than you,” he said, and he meant it. He could depend on Donna. He turned away, returning his mind to the professor, which had been the source of his smile earlier. What an inspired plan he’d devised, and what a powerful impression she’d left on him, her nice smooth brown bottom up and waiting for him. He had a hard time thinking of anything else. Wouldn’t it be nice if she turned out to be on the up-and-up, and then he could have a