The Patefields and Malloys
Chapter 1
I looked at the screen of my ringing phone. It was a number that I didn’t recognize, but I did know the 708 area code. I was sure it was a lawyer calling to talk to me about my grandfather’s estate. I had just returned to the bay area from Waynesboro, Georgia only four weeks ago, after arranging and attending my grandfather's funeral. I was the only son of his only son, and my dad had died in a car accident when I was 10 years old.
I sighed as I answered the call, “hello, this is Caleb.”
The man on the other end said, “Caleb, this is Tom Henderson, your grandfather’s attorney.”
I said, “yes, what can I do for you?”
He said, “as you know you are the sole heir of your grandfather’s estate, there are some things that we really need to discuss. Would it be possible for you to come to Waynesboro, so that we can get those things finalized.”
I chuckled, “estate makes it sound like grandpa had millions of dollars. When I was there for the funeral, I got the impression that he was basically broke.”
Henderson said, “well, it is true that Charles’ estate isn’t as large as it once was, there are several assets that will need to be dealt with.”
I said, “what assets, an old house and a run-down brewery that couldn’t produce a truckload of beer in a week, even if it an order to fill?”
He sighed, “well, yes. Look, I know it isn’t much, but there are still decisions that need to be made and papers to be signed. I understand that you may not want to keep the brewery running, but you need to decide if you want to sell it as a functioning business or just shut it down and sell the equipment and real estate. You will also need to list the house for sale and dispose of the contents.”
My grandfather, Charles Malloy, started working for a large brewery in the 60’s. He worked his way up from a bottler to supervisor and then got into the brew room. He learned the recipes and was responsible for ensuring each batch was mixed correctly. It was there that he met Frank Patefield. They became good friends, and as they learned the brewing process, they began to experiment with new recipes of their own. By the early 70’s, grandpa and Frank had both married and the couples spent a lot of time together. My grandmother, Lois, and Frank’s wife, Edna, got along well and were always planning some party or outing for the four of them. In 1972, my dad, Mike, was born and Frank and Edna welcomed their son, Scott, the same year. Their daughter, Stacy, was born two years later.
As they were starting their families, grandpa and Frank developed a new recipe and tried to get the brewery to add it to their line of products. The brewery was resistant to adding another product, they already had a successful brand and didn’t want to risk losing sales of their flagship beer to an unproven new recipe. It was 1975 and Miller had just launched the first light beer, Miller Lite, most of the big breweries were waiting to see how that worked before they jumped on the band wagon. It wasn’t until 1982 when Budweiser added Bud Light to their line that a chain reaction was set off across the industry, all the big guys were adding a light beer and even more variations of their flagship brands.
When their brewery wouldn’t consider adding the new recipe in 1975, Frank and grandpa decided to start their own brewery, they called it Mafield, using parts of both of their names. They started in grandpa’s garage and within a year, they moved into a building that had been recently vacated when a new grocery store was built. By 1976, they were building a new facility on the edge of Waynesboro and their old brewery was trying to buy them out. Two years later the old brewery was closed and consolidated with another brewery in Atlanta. Mafield Beer was a big local hit and was now the only brewery in Waynesboro.
While it never went national, Mafield was a very popular regional brand. Frank and grandpa did fairly well for themselves. As the 90’s began, the plans were being made to bring the next generation into the beer business. My dad and Scott had just finished college and were soon in training to take over the brewery when the first generation was ready to retire. Just like their fathers, dad and Scott were soon married and starting their family. I was born in 1998, as was Scott’s oldest son, Dawson. Dylan, Scott’s second son, was born in 2000. Frank and grandpa had set a retirement date for 2010, giving Dad and Scott plenty of time to learn the business and take over.
About the time I turned 6, I started to notice that Scott and Dad weren’t getting along. I would go with dad to the brewery in the summer and whenever there was no school. I had seen them arguing on more than one occasion. Scott was also bringing Dawson and Dylan to the brewery. While I was in the same class in school as Dawson, we weren’t really friends. We ran in different groups. Dawson was becoming your typical jock type, while I was going down the computer nerd path. I noticed that Dawson seemed to be the golden child in his father’s eyes, and I felt a bit sorry for Dylan. He just couldn’t seem to do anything right, while everything that Dawson did was perfect. Whenever we were at the brewery, I would stay in dad’s office and play on his computer, while Scott made Dawson and Dylan follow him around the bottling plant. Even at that young age, I was sure I would not be part of the third generation to run the brewery.
Over the next year, I began to see my mom and dad fighting more as well. Just before my 8th birthday, mom and I were moving out of our house in Waynesboro and into an apartment in Atlanta. From that point on, I would see dad once a month and for 6 weeks in the summer. That was until two years later, when dad was killed in a car accident. I was a teenager when grandpa finally told me the truth about dad, he had that accident because he was driving drunk, again. Thankfully, dad drove into a tree and not into another car, so he was the only one that died. It would have killed my grandma if he had hurt anyone else. I always remember that dad drank every night after work, but apparently after he and mom split up, the drinking increased. The arguments between him and Scott didn’t help either. I would still go to stay with grandma and grandpa for a week or two in the summer, but I was still not interested in running a brewery, much to grandpa’s disappointment.
The succession plan for the brewery was quicky falling apart. Things continued to go down hill when a year after dad died, Frank suffered a massive heart attack. Leaving the brewery under the ownership of my grandpa and Scott Patefield. Scott assumed my grandpa would stick to the plan and retire in the next year or two. Grandpa, once again changed the plan, deciding to stay in charge. I am not sure of all the details, but grandpa bought Scott’s share of the business and Scott was soon starting his own brewery and Mafield Beer became Malloy Beer. After a legal battle, grandpa won the rights to the original recipe. Of course, Scott knew the recipe and the new Patefield Beer was very similar. He had altered the recipe just enough that grandpa couldn’t claim that he was using his recipe. So, ever since 2012, there has been a feud between the Patefields and Malloys.
When Frank was still alive, he always handled the marketing and advertising for Mafield, grandpa concentrated on the recipes and brewing processes. Scott had learned marketing very well too, so when the partnership was broken up, he was better at marketing his new brand, while grandpa stuck with his strength of making the best beer that he could. As a result, Patefield Beer took off, as the beer for the new generation and Malloy Beer was seen as the beer that old guys drink. So, over the last 12 years, grandpa hasn’t upgraded any equipment or made any repairs on his facility. He was only making enough to barely keep the doors open, and he was down to a skeleton crew.
I sighed as I ended my call with Tom Henderson, what the hell was I going to do with a run-down brewery that I never wanted in the first place. I guess I was going to have to go back to Georgia, one more time, and figure this out.
I thought back to my relationship with my dad and grandpa. Before mom and dad split up, I would spend a lot of time at the brewery with dad. When I was little, I thought I was so grown up when I got to sit in dad’s office. Dad and grandpa were always trying to explain how beer was made, but I have to admit, I was never really too interested. I did enjoy spending time with them and while dad and grandpa never forced me to go out into the filling room, Scott Patefield was always dragging his sons, Dawson and Dylan along to see the entire operation. So, I feel like I had a good relationship with dad, and I knew he loved me. Even after he and mom divorced, mom always made sure that I could spend all the time I wanted with dad. They never fought in front of me or used me against each other, so I admired them for that. I had seen a lot of my friends’ parents being really nasty to each other. As I got older, I wanted to spend less time at the brewery and more time on my computer and with my friends. When I was with him, dad always had a beer in his hand, I thought that was normal and thought all dads did that. I now know that he was an alcoholic, which ultimately led to his death. I would still spend time with grandma & grandpa, and they always treated me well, so I guess I had a good relationship with them as well. Once I got to high school, my visits became less frequent. Again, mom never opposed me spending time with dad’s family. Now that they were all gone, I guess I should have spent more time with them. Like the old saying goes, you never miss things until they are gone.
I was starting to look for a flight to Georgia as my roommate, Eli, walked into our apartment.
He said, “hey Caleb, what are you working on?”
I laughed as I said, “I have to fly back to Waynesboro to sell my brewery and my country house.”
He looked at me and said, “excuse me?”
I said, “I told you my grandpa ran a brewery, right?”
He shrugged, “I guess I remember you telling me something like that.”
I said, “well, I now own it. I have to figure out what the hell to do with it.”
He asked, “is it running right now?”
I chuckled, “I wouldn’t say it’s running, from what I understand it is only walking, and walking very slowly.”
He laughed, “well, I had no idea I was living with a big business tycoon.”
I shook my head, “hardly, I just have to figure out how to get rid of this money pit.” He laughed as I thought back to when Eli and I first met.
I met Eli right after I started working as a software designer. I had graduated from Georgia Tech five years ago and moved to California where all the tech jobs were. The company I work for hired Eli’s company, a marketing firm, to help us with an ad campaign for the new software that the team I worked on had just developed. Eli and I worked together on the project for several weeks, and when we finished, we went to have a beer and celebrate.
Eli said, “it has been my pleasure to work with you, Caleb.”
We clinked our bottles together, “yeah, you weren’t too bad yourself.”
I took a drink and asked, “so, what’s your next project?”
He shrugged, “I’m not sure, I guess I’ll find out on Monday when I get back to the office. What about you?”
I said, “I will be working on any bugs that pop up on that new software, that usually takes a few weeks. Then I will probably be assigned a new project too.”
We talked about our jobs for a few more minutes, then Eli asked, “so are you seeing anyone right now?”
We had never talked about our dating lives while we worked together, and I wasn’t 100 percent sure that Eli was gay. I said, “no, not really, how about you?”
He shook his head, “no, my boyfriend just moved out, he decided he was missing his old boyfriend more than he wanted to be with me.”
I took a drink and said, “boyfriend?”
He sighed, “yes. I don’t mean to assume anything, but I thought there was a little spark between us. I just wanted to wait until we had our project wrapped up before I asked you out on a date.”
I asked, “are you asking me out on a date?”
He grinned, “would you say yes, if I was?”
I shrugged, “I’m not sure, how big is your dick?”
He nearly spit out the drink that he had just taken, he sputtered, “well, I guess I have never had any complaints.”
I chuckled, “I would love to go out with you, how about tomorrow night?”
He smiled, “that works for me, but I didn’t think we were done with tonight.”
I emptied my bottle and nodded at the bartender, “I could drink another one.”
After another beer, we decided to continue our evening at my place. We ordered an Uber, since we had been drinking. We weren’t in my apartment for more than five minutes before we were kissing and pulling each other’s clothes off.
Eli and I were about the same height and build, about 5’10 and about 160 pounds. Eli has light brown hair, not quite blonde, but not dark brown either, a fair complexion and hazel eyes, while I have dark hair, brown eyes and a dark complexion. I would be lying if I didn’t say that I pictured Eli naked during the 4 weeks that we had been working together. So, I was thrilled when he told me he was gay and wanted to date me. After we had each other undressed, I saw his chest and legs had just a little dusting of hair, while my body was covered with a coat of the same dark hair that covered my head. My eyes went to his cock, he was not going to get a size complaint from me either. We had both swelled during our make out session, he was a full seven inches and had a nice girth that stuck straight out in front of him. While I was slightly shorter, I was a bit thicker and had a slight upward curve.
We began to stroke each other as we continued our game of tonsil hockey, using our precum as lube. We broke our kiss long enough for me to lead him to my bedroom. We fell onto the bed and immediately assumed a sixty-nine position. Our cocks fit perfectly into each other’s mouths as I began to fondle Eli’s cum-filled nuts. Eli was playing with my nuts as well, letting his finger wander down further along my ass crack. I could feel my climax building, but I wasn’t ready to end this just yet. I moved around so that Eli and I could kiss again. After a few minutes later, Eli rolled me onto my back and began to kiss his way down my chest. I let out a slight moan when he gave each of my erect nipples a gentle bite. He stroked my cock, and he continued down my stomach, then took my dick into his mouth one more time. Eli let my pole fall from his mouth to give my nuts some much welcomed attention. My head was writhing back and forth as he started to push my legs in the air. I grabbed my ankles and spread them, exposing my waiting pink pucker. Eli grinned as he dove in tongue first. I groaned as Eli’s tongue pushed through and he started to fuck me with it. This was obviously not his first rodeo, he knew what he was doing. Once he had my hole coated with his spit, Eli came back to me for a kiss as I felt the head of his love stick at my entrance. Our kiss became deeper as he slowly pushed in until he hit my sweet spot. We broke our kiss as our eyes locked on each other. Eli began to pump in and out, sending my senses reeling. I kept my hands on my ankles, I knew if I touched my cock, I would cum. Eli panted, “I’m getting close.” I nodded and said, “just bred me.” He pushed in as far as he could and let out a final grunt as he let his baby makers fly, filling my gut with his juices. He gave me another kiss as his deflating cock slipped from my well fucked hole.
He grinned at me and said, “I guess I should have asked earlier, are you a top or bottom?”
I raised my eyebrows, “I guess I would say that I’m versatile.”
He said, “good, I was hoping you would say that.”
He leaned down and returned my still hard cock to his mouth, covering it with his slobber. He then crawled up and straddled me, he grabbed my cock and guided it to his ass. He lowered himself down until he was fully impaled. I put my hands on his hips and Eli began to bounce up and down. He grabbed his cock, which was suddenly coming back to life, and started to stroke it. I pushed up, meeting every one of his thrusts. I was still so worked up from the fucking that Eli had just giving me, I knew I wasn’t going to last long. I tightened my grip on Eli’s hips, pulling him down and filling him with my warm, creamy seed. Eli also spit out another slightly smaller load across my chest. We shared another kiss and cleaned up. I, of course, invited him to spend the night.
Now you probably noticed that I referred to Eli as my roommate and not my boyfriend when I started to tell you about him. I guess you could say that we dated for a couple of weeks but soon learned that we were better suited to being friends than we were at being a couple. We had a lot in common, we both had a similar sense of humor, and we definitely had sexual chemistry. There just seemed to be something missing, to this day neither of us can tell you what that is, but we both felt it. We had already become close friends and had continued to hang out with one another, so when I was notified that my rent was going to be increased, we found a place to share. In case you are wondering, it is a two-bedroom apartment. We have been roommates for over 4 years now and love each other, but more like brothers than lovers. Eli would do anything in the world for me and I certainly have his back. I will admit, we do help each other out whenever one of us is going through a dry spell, sexually. It is kind of handy having a live-in hook up whenever you need it. Although it has been close to year since that has last happened. We even act as wingmen for each other if we go out looking for dates. While neither of us has had a serious boyfriend since we moved in together, it has never been awkward when we brought other guys home. I just can’t imagine my life without him at this point.
Eli broke me out of my daydream as he said, “hello, Caleb, are you still with me?”
I said, “what?”
He chuckled, “you were kind of zoning out, what the hell were thinking about?”
I shrugged, “it was nothing important.”
He picked up his laptop and moved next to me on the couch, he said, “so I found the website for Malloy Beer. It looks a little dated, I don’t think anything has been updated in at least five years.”
I shrugged, “so what, it’s not like I’m going to keep the brewery.”
He said, “I have been reading some of the customer comments, granted they are five years old, but they are all positive. They all like your grandpa’s beer.”
I rolled my eyes, “ok, so you want me to just move back to Georgia and take over the family business?”
Eli shrugged, “I’m just saying, you should look at all your options. Look, I brought up the Patefield site as well, they are the only other brewery in Waynesboro. Here is one comment that says they preferred the old Mafield Beer, and Malloy is much closer to the original.”
I said, “of course it would be, grandpa retained the rights to that recipe. I told you that grandpa and Patefield used to be partners. Patefield just copied the original recipe, changing just enough not be infringing on the rights that grandpa owned.”
He nodded, “yeah, I get that, but their site is a lot newer and flashier. They have a cohesive ad campaign, and it caters to a younger audience. Malloy looks like only guys over 50 drink it. Your grandpa sure should have had someone to help him market the beer.”
I sighed, “yeah, grandpa was more worried about making the beer, not marketing it.”
Eli chuckled, “well that’s obvious. I’m surprised he even has a website.”
I shook my head, “so what are you saying Eli, I should try to turn the brewery around and make it a big success?”
He said, “I don’t know, I just think you should look at all your options. How long has it been since you saw the building or equipment?”
I said, “I don’t know, I guess about eight to ten years.”
Eli grinned at me, “I have some time off from work coming to me, if you want, I’ll go with you to have a look.”
I laughed, “and then you will talk me into trying to revive the brewery and you want to be in charge of marketing, right?”
He cocked his head, “I know I could put together a cool marketing plan, I have always loved a challenge.”
Did I mention that Eli was well suited to work in marketing and sales? He was very persuasive and as the old saying goes, he could sell ice to the Eskimos.
I sighed, “I have to go meet with the lawyer and sign all the papers, no matter what I decide. I guess it wouldn’t hurt to look at my options.”
Eli looked at me with those sad puppy dog eyes, I sighed, “do you want to come with me Eli?”
He asked, “didn’t I make that clear?”
I chuckled and nodded, “I guess you did, I’ll buy two plane tickets, can you leave on Monday?”
He grinned at me, “I’m sure I can, I have plenty of vacation time built up and we are between projects.”
Monday morning, Eli and were boarding our flight and were on our way to Waynesboro, Georgia. He was definitely more excited about the trip than I was.
To be continued…
