Page 40 of Broken Brothers

“Yeah, thanks,” Morgan said. “Lucky bastard.”

“Hey, just remember, you can drink now,” I said, as if a professor revealing a grand secret to a student. “And you know what? You can get a hotel room now! Just remember, though, if you wind up with some pretty broad, don’t take her back to the manor. Take her back to Columbia or a nice hotel room.”

“Please, who do you think I am?”

“I’m serious, man, your room isn’t that far from me. You fuck it up and you’re gonna have messy clothes everywhere, if you know what I mean.”

“Gross,” Morgan said, but he laughed with it. “Still, you’ll have fun. You literally have the place to yourself.”

It was true. The whole thing was ostentatious, ridiculous, unnecessary…

And, well…

Honestly, I was a little jealous. The gala itself was all of those things, but the ability to meet successful people from all walks of life was not. I had grown to resent Mr. Hunt’s obsession with money and power and seen it as a sign of weakness that he didn’t have his priorities in the right place, but I could not argue (nor did I want to) with the power of his network. If I could have had a network half as strong as his, I knew I would never have to worry about money.

If going to absurd galas with expensive and unneeded decorations was part of the price, well, so be it.

“Someday, you’ll have to go to these too,” Morgan said. “And when you do, you’ll realize they suck.”

“Not if I’m there as a guest of honor,” I said.

Morgan looked up, a grin on his face, as if I had just uncovered the secret of the universe.

“I like the way you think,” he said. “Whoever makes it first, the other has to come to their gala.”

“Deal,” I said, shaking his hand so quickly I had basically bound my soul to the deal.

Present Day

Lookslike I won this one, Morgan!

I looked down at the invitation to the gala, written in fancy, high-end cursive by Craig Taylor. This gala would be the chance for the Taylors to publicly announce their newest investment. The investor would get a chance to speak, along with Craig Taylor.

That means me.

That means… me.

Hah! I told you Craig.

Life could not have felt any better. Sitting in that office in the back corner, for once in my life, I wasn’t tossing a ball up in the air at some point made of outdated business materials because of what I was looking at right now.

The only odd part was that I had never signed anything, but I guess that didn’t matter too much. We had an agreement inprinciple, and as far as I could tell, Layla had also taken the high road. Perhaps she would “get it back” at a future negotiation or something, but in any case, I had never heard a word from Craig about the deal.

Well, I could say I had done my part. I had not only closed the deal, I had made the partner aware of all of the potential trouble spots. If that wasn’t the sign of thorough business work, nothing would.

A knock came at my door.

And, for perhaps the first time ever, someone came in without even asking.

I couldn’t say anything, though, because it was John Burnson.Thank God this didn’t happen about a month ago.

“Great news, boy!” he said. “You saw the invite to this event, right?”

“Of course,” I said, grinning without any sense of putting on a pretty face. My grin was as sincere as my words. “I can’t wait!”

“This all but means the deal is done! And I have to say, I was a little pissed when I found out you took control of this deal, young Chance, but boy have you proved me wrong!”

I practically expected him to let out a “yeehaw” he looked so damn excited.