Page 67 of Broken Brothers

“You should just come home, but stay in touch with Andrew. Use the Wi-fi on the airplane to text him, I’ll reimburse you for it. Actually, don’t. I still don’t trust that you aren’t being tailed.”

How ridiculous was it that even now, Morgan wasn’t being crazy so much as he was being justifiably overly cautious?

“But when you land, send him some messages. Maybe you’ll text him in the middle of talking shop with Edwin—”

And then it hit me.

“Do you think Andrew is going to say anything to your father about us talking to him?”

Nothing could have spelled doom for us faster than that. I would lose my monthly stipend from the family. God knows what would happen to Morgan’s reputation and standing in the Hunt family. I should have known that it wouldn’t be us that fucked ourselves over, but a potential client who just didn’t think much of saying we’d approached.

And Andrew did not exactly strike me as the type of person who could keep a secret, what with the way he wanted our talks to be open to everyone on staff.

I think my words hit Morgan just as hard, because he clammed up just as much as I did and didn’t say a word for several seconds.

“Stay in touch with him,” he finally said. “Make it abundantly clear he shouldn’t be telling anyone about anything. Frankly, we shouldn’t know that he’s talking to my father. I only know because Edwin announced it in a board meeting I got invited to, not an every day occurrence.”

“Understood.”

At that moment, the flight crew announced that boarding would begin.

“I have to go, Morgan,” I said. “Unless you want me to stay here. You know I have no qualms doing that.”

“I know, and then you and Edwin run into each other and Edwin wonders why you’re out there without a job.”

“I could say—”

“No, Chance, come home,” Morgan said. “Stay in touch with Andrew. I have to go.”

He didn’t even say bye before he hung up, leaving me to wonder who had walked into his office or who had summoned him. I let the phone drop, the call ending before my eyes.

It was not a small temptation to stay in San Francisco. Morgan, for how much he had grown, still underestimated what I was capable of in terms of bullshitting my way into something I wanted. Not even Edwin Hunt could outwit me; almost no one I knew could. Only lust got in my way, which meant no man would ever fool me.

Yes, it was Craig Taylor who had fucked me over, but that was a function of telling Layla too much before sex, not me spilling the beans at dinner.

But Morgan had a point, even if he hadn’t made it directly. Andrew would not take kindly to overbearing prospectors—he wanted the soft sale, the gentle introduction, the slow kind of work. I couldn’t give that to him if I surprised him; put Edwin and me in the same room, and we’d both lose the sale.

Maybe that would provide some gratification in fucking over Edwin, but it would be as short-term as a single breath, because in the very next one, he would find a way to make my life hell until the day he died. And then, maybe even beyond that.

Begrudgingly, I got on the plane. But as I did, I made sure to send a couple of texts Andrew’s way so he wouldn’t forget us.

“Enjoyed meeting you. Keep us in mind and don’t decide anything until you speak to anyone. If someone tries to pressure you on the spot, they’re not going to help you in the end.”

I felt like that was warning enough for what Edwin Hunt would try to do. I had to hold my nose and pray that Andrew did not fall prey to his games.

I had hope, but not much. I had a feeling my prayers wouldn’t be answered.

29

Two nerve-wracking weeks went by in which neither Morgan or I had the faintest of ideas what had happened or would happen with Virtual Realty.

Morgan advised me that as soon as Edwin Hunt got back, he bragged about how he had the deal in the bag and that nothing would prevent him from signing with Hunt Industries, but both of us knew better than to fall for that talk. Edwin Hunt was many things, but an honest truth teller was not one of them. If he felt that he could buy the moon, he would tell everyone he had until someone showed incontrovertible evidence to the contrary.

And even then, it was no guarantee.

Andrew responded to my message from the plane saying he would definitely do so, but other than that, our conversation was sporadic and rare. I had to have an ironic laugh at myself when I realized that this was probably how Layla felt reaching out to me—she kept hoping I would respond with positive news, but because of where I stood, I wasn’t going to give her much.

It was the same damn thing with Andrew. I kept texting him hoping to hear that he had interest in working with us, but I wouldn’t get anything. I had to rely on the hope that he wouldnot fall for Edwin’s lies and manipulations, but it was just that. Hope. Nothing more.