Page 44 of Broken Brothers

Her constant withdrawals…

Fuck. No. No. No!

At the last second, I caught her storming off to an exit. I didn’t give a shit how it looked to walk out on Mr. Hunt. I didn’t give a shit that I could hear Mr. Burnson breathing heavily, suggesting he didn’t know what had transpired either. I didn’t give a shit about anything other than why the fuck had Layla betrayed me.

I left the gala, chased after Layla, and begged to know why the fuck, once again, I’d been so stupid when it came to a woman.

18

ONE YEAR AGO

“You’re out of your goddamn mind if you think this is smart!”

Mr. Hunt rarely raised his voice at home, but hear in the office, the fury with which he spoke reminded me of the devil. His eyes went wide, he practically snarled at his associate, and his neck bulged with veins. Off to the side, Morgan and I watched with horror and some morbid curiosity.

We’d been brought in to watch a day in the life of Mr. Hunt, one of us to become the future of the company, the other probably at the behest of his wife. For most of the first couple of hours, Mr. Hunt had insisted we just work on school assignments while he handled some paperwork and phone calls.

But then, around 10:30 a.m., he called in someone named Scott Dill, the VP of sales for his company. When Scott entered, he looked like he had just seen his dead mother, and given the way that Mr. Hunt proceeded to rip him to shreds, I couldn’t blame him. Even Morgan looked incredibly uncomfortable with the way his father dressed down the VP.

“Next time I call you in here, you better have some goddamn numbers worth more than the shit I took this morning, or you’ll be a shit on the street. Now get out of here!”

With that, Scott left without a word, avoiding eye contact with both his boss and us. He shut the door quickly but without slamming it, perhaps fearing what would happen if he did that.

Then, just a few seconds later, Mr. Hunt spoke to us as if we were back in the house.

“Do you know why I did what I just did?”

Neither of us said a word, perhaps wanting the other to speak. I knew better than to speak up with Morgan around; I knew better than to assume Mr. Hunt ever had an interest in speaking to me directly; I knew better than to ever believe I had priority over Morgan.

“No, Dad, I don’t,” Morgan said finally. “I thought Scott was one of the best salesman you’ve ever had.”

“That, he is,” Mr. Hunt said. “But here’s how business works, son.”

I knew now he was speaking only to Morgan, but at least I got to benefit by hearing it in person.

“Whoever you have to annihilate to get what you want, you have to do it. If you have to step on someone to motivate them, you do it. If you have to trick someone to get what you want, you do it. If you have to go through some elaborate schemes to get what you want, you better goddamn do it. Closing the deal and the art of business require not the soft touch of a woman but the brute weapons that war requires. Do I make myself clear?”

Morgan hesitated for half a second, said yes, and I nodded. I didn’t want to speak, but I did want to avoid an undressing.

“I may have, but I know you don’t get it,” Mr. Hunt said. It became unclear now who he was speaking to, given his relative avoidance of directly criticizing Morgan. “You’re too goddamn soft. You keep letting people get their fair share, you’re gonnaget chewed up and spit out a million times before you get tired of being crunched down. If you want to get anywhere in life, and I mean anywhere, you better learn and adhere to the warfare of business and the art of the deal. I’m not going to ask if I’m clear, because I know I am. If you can’t digest that, then it’s your own damn fault.”

Present Day

It’smy own damn fault.

I knew what this might entail. I knew this might end in heartbreak. I knew this might ruin my career.

And I went ahead and told her anyways.

I just never imagined she would choose to humiliate me in so public and vicious a fashion. What the fuck, Layla? What the fuck… the fuck did any of this mean to you? Did any of it matter?

It took me a couple of blocks to catch her, but when I did, she stopped and turned. Her eyes were filled with tears, some of which had flooded her cheeks. She looked inconsolable.

But that was nothing on how I felt. I couldn’t even bring myself to talk. Even as my mind went at a hundred miles per hour, even as I begged for answers, my tongue literally felt tied and that I could not speak. It felt like I would have to reach into my throat and pull the words out.

“Wha… what… why… the fuck, Layla!”

I slowly regained control of myself, but that did nothing to quell the rising disgust and hatred I began to feel. Layla tried to speak, but she just sounded like a disgusting blubbering mess. I was beyond furious.