Page 58 of Broken Brothers

“Chance,” Edwin Hunt said, not bothering to rise and shake my hand—because why should behavior of the last fifteen years or so suddenly magically change? “Good to see you, boy.”

“Likewise, sir,” I said, giving a half wave as I took my seat. Already, a glass of wine and some appetizers had been placed on the table. “I hope I’m not—”

“Late? Nonsense. I like for my guests to arrive to a table full of bountiful gifts.”

What is going on? This is not at all like Edwin Hunt.I looked to Morgan for any kind of a clue, but he kept his eyes on his plate, deliberately avoiding eye contact with me.

“Well, thank you,” I said, trying to keep my words curt.

“You are welcome. I take it you’ve been following our boys in the Bronx?”

I knew he was referring to the Yankees, but the casual conversation—with me, no less—struck me as so unlike Mr. Hunt that I seriously began to wonder if he had suffered a stroke or something else that had impaired his judgment. This was nothing like the Edwin Hunt I had grown up with or even interacted with in the last couple of weeks.

That, or he was “fattening me up” for an offer of some kind. Fortunately, I knew the devil always did deals in his favor.

We talked casually about the Yankees for a few minutes. I noticed Morgan continued to stay out of the conversation, keeping his eyes on his plate or around the surroundings. I suspected that this was one of the few times Morgan could escape his father’s presence, even with him physically no morethan four feet away, and he wanted to take full advantage of the opportunity.

Mr. Hunt kept the charm up, suggesting I go to games with him in his press box and promising the world. Our steaks came without us even ordering, and somehow, Mr. Hunt had ordered my favorite—medium-rare ribeye. I chomped into my steak, savoring the juiciness and the fat that came with it. I couldn’t remember when, if ever, I had had ribeye this fucking delicious, but for how good it was, it almost made this whole encounter with Edwin Hunt worthwhile.

Finally, as the waiter acknowledged it was time for dessert—something which, again, I had no say in but suspected Edwin Hunt had somehow found out—we got to what seemed to be the point of the dinner.

“Now, Chance, I understand you had an unfortunate incident at Burnson Investments.”

Something you had a part in, you prick. I wouldn’t have gotten fired if you and Craig or whoever hadn’t fucked me over.

“I understand that at your age, things can get a little out of control, and you can have difficulty handling your emotions.”

You motherfucker. Just get to the point.

“Truth be told, when John told me what had happened, I just laughed. Too many of our associates don’t have the balls to say what they are really thinking—they’d rather kiss my ass than give it the kick that it needs. That you did that to John made me a happy man.”

I refused to believe almost everything that Mr. Hunt had just said. Pretty much the only thing I believed was that almost all of his associates brown-nosed instead of speaking the truth. But the idea that he laughed… OK, maybe he did laugh. But he wasn’t laughing at John so much as he was laughing at the ridiculousness of his adopted son. And he certainly wasn’t made a happy man by that.

“I know what happened with the Taylors was a little rough, but I think that your failure can actually make you a better businessman.”

Oh, you have no idea.

“I know it’s embarrassing. But I had failures like that, too, and I got chewed out and reamed all the same. It’s not fun, oh no, but it makes you better. I believe, Chance, that you are better than when I got you the job at Burnson’s company.”

Yeah, no shit, I’m the one that would have procured a great deal if not for my big mouth with Layla.

If not for her…

“So, this is why I have called you here, Chance. A few weeks ago, I gave you this opportunity and you declined, which, given what you were working on, is completely understandable.”

I could hear the strain in Mr. Hunt’s voice. He didn’t actually believe that it was acceptable. It was almost funny if it wasn’t so serious to see Mr. Hunt fake it—and if I didn’t fear what lengths Mr. Hunt would go to to enact revenge or “right” something that was wrong.

“However, now that your circumstances have shifted and it would only be right for a boy in your position to push to receive a job, I would like to present you with the same opportunity again.”

I gulped. I should have known. I did my damn hardest not to look at Morgan, but I could see the nerves out of the corner of my eye.

“Not only that, I would like to make you a director,” Mr. Hunt said. “Your time at Burnson Investments, for as unfortunate as it ended, prove that you listened to the lessons I gave you two when you were young.”

You mean lessons you gave Morgan that I was allowed to eavesdrop on.

“You would prove invaluable to our company. I trust that you will make the right decision.”

“I very much appreciate it, sir,” I said, putting a facade of a smile on my face. “And when do you need a decision by?”