Page 15 of Broken Brothers

He could have sat in that room with his father and the potential client. He could have studied them closely, but instead, he had chosen to flirt with the client’s daughter. The daughter was cute, a redhead with a skinny frame, but she wasn’t even among the ten cutest girls in our school. That, and I really didn’t have much interest in trying something.

On the surface level, it was because Morgan would always have first dibs in the family. Even though he was quite cool about it, there was no secret that if I ended up prying a girl away from Morgan, he would get upset, the family would side with the biological son, and all hell would break loose. I would wind back up in the foster home, and my life would be ruined.

But on a deeper level… the past three years had sucked. I hated girls. Well, that wasn’t true.

I hated the effort and the process of pursuing girls. I had grown tired of knowing the inevitable rejection would come when they learned I was adopted, and if they didn’t reject me, well, I couldn’t help but wonder what the hell was wrong with them.

Fucked up, I know. But I couldn’t help it.

Still, I did have some interest in flirting with her, but not so I could get her. No, it was for a much simpler reason.

Boys liked to compete for girls. Morgan and I made no bones with each other about pursuing the same girl and seeing who would win out. Sometimes it was an overt challenge, and other times it was a little more nuanced.

Today, at least until the transaction finished, I would stay back.

“… you see, Clark, I think you have a mighty fine business,” Edwin Hunt said. I kept listening. “I am bedazzled by what youhave to offer. I truly believe that if I invest in your business, I can use my network to expand what you have. So it’s not just me you’re getting. It’s everyone in my circle you’re getting.”

Classic. And a bold faced lie.

Mr. Hunt invested in many businesses and provided cash on an almost endless basis, but the idea that he would introduce his businesses elsewhere was just a lie. It was, as he described “the art of the business,” but I had silently taken to calling it “the art of the con.” Lie and make promises that most normal CEOs and investors would, and then just say you’re busy.

Mr. Hunt lived for one reason and one reason only, and that was to make money. To him, the easiest path forward was to invest and let things grow to a certain point before selling them. He spent little time actually networking his companies and practically no time mentoring. That was a payoff too far down the road, and given that Mr. Hunt was close to his late 60’s by now, he didn’t seem interested.

“A man like you is a man I wish I could have become in my heyday,” Mr. Hunt said with a chuckle.

Another part of the art of the con. Charm, charm, and charm. And laugh so it looks self-effacing.

“So what say you. $50 million for 20 percent?”

The bargaining went back and forth, and I honestly didn’t understand everything, but I knew that the man felt pinned by Mr. Hunt. He did not want to leave without a deal, but the deal did not seem to be in his own best interests.

Nevertheless, as usually happened, Mr. Hunt won. The two shook hands, I heard the scribble of signatures, and the two retreated somewhere for a drink—the only drink Edwin Hunt would have with his clients, his one indulgence in them.

I had seen enough. I headed over to Morgan and the daughter, whose name I thought was Tracy.

“Looks like a party over here,” I said.

“Oh, no,” Tracy said. “Morgan is just being silly.”

No girl ever calls a guy she likes silly.

“Silly, eh?” I said, slyly shooting Morgan a look. I could see the disappointment and frustration. “Where are you from, Tracy?”

“Seattle,” she said. “I hate it there, though. It’s so rainy all the time!”

“You should persuade your father to move here,” I said. “You’d already have me to hang out with. And not just me, but all of my cool friends. You should see the things we do.”

“Really,” Tracy said, a fire in her eyes flickering.

Like… role model, like son.

I guess I’m more of a Hunt than I ever realized.

Present Day

As typical forMr. Burnson these days, he had disappeared to the golf course for an escapade that did not involve work or a potential client. I half-expected him to just up and announce his retirement, but then again, that probably would have cost him money in some fashion, and just like Mr. Hunt, Mr. Burnson never lost money if he could help it.

I sat in my cubicle, for once not tossing the paper ball in the air. No longer did anything I do revolve around possibility, but now around execution. I finally had the opportunity to prove what I knew I already had—skills in business. I would close this deal with the Taylors, and I would get Burnson Investments amajor asset to its portfolio.Fire me after that. Strip me of my intern title and make me a full time employee. You’ll regret it if you don’t,I thought with a smirk.