Page 93 of Broken Dreams
I swallow down the knot in my throat and force a smile. “You’ll find it,” I promise.
My chest grows tight as again, I picture her with another man, laughing, smiling, and dancing in the kitchen of her home.
And then, as though the red in her dress is fire, I step back, feeling the burn from touching her.
“What’s wrong?”
“I need to . . . I have to . . . go get a drink and I’ll meet you over there. I need to talk to someone and call home to check on Jett.”
Jett. He’s who I have to think about. I can’t be angry about some guy who doesn’t exist because I didn’t exist for my son for far too long. This fake dating already takes me away far too much. He needs stability and his father, not half of my time because I’m giving it to someone else.
I walk her over to the bar, kiss her cheek, and then head down the hall. Once there, I grab my phone and shoot a text to my sister.
How is Jett?
Brynlee
He’s fine. Stop worrying. He doesn’t even miss you.
I let out a sigh and despise myself for being a pansy and rushing out. However, I’m not ready to face her right now.
Thankfully, there are three guys standing around shooting the shit at the bar, so I grab a drink and insert myself when they start talking about the military.
“I think the government should cut the spending. Why the hell do we need a six-thousand-dollar screwdriver? We’re wasting money building an already strong military. We need to work on limiting their budget, not increasing it,” the one guy with a really bad unibrow says.
The one to the left, we’ll call him Stringbean, agrees. “There’s no need for it.”
The only one with a brain laughs. “You’re all idiots. While I don’t disagree there is mismanagement of funds, you have no idea what that screwdriver does. I doubt it’s what you think and unless you’ve served, you don’t get to make that call.”
I instantly like this guy. “I don’t mean to intrude, but having served eight years and as a pilot, I can attest that while it seems frivolous, and agreeing with your friend, there’s plenty of waste, that screwdriver could be the one that tightens the bomb attached to my plane.”
Stringbean and Unibrow jerk their heads back a little. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to offend.”
“No offense taken, I just overheard you and wanted to explain my position. Now, if we’re talking about the vast amount of paperwork they distribute, that’s where we can afford to cut back.” I smile, not wanting to piss any of them off. Who knows if they’re possible investors.
All three chuckle. The smart one extends his hand. “I’m Javier Santiago.”
“Grady Whitlock, nice to meet you.” I turn to Stringbean and introduce myself, his name is Killian, and then the same to Unibrow who is Ethan.
“So, you said eight years?” Javier asks.
“Yes, in the navy. I would’ve stayed longer, but life happens and we do what’s best for our family.”
He chuckles. “I understand that more than most. I moved to New York to better my life when I was fifteen. My uncle taught me everything he knew about his business, and when he passed, I took over and have been able to give my wife and kids a life we dreamed of.”
Admirable. He seems like my kind of people. “I’m sure your uncle would be incredibly proud.”
“I’d like to think so,” he says and then slaps Killian’s shoulder. “Killian here is the same, he owns a trucking company that he started from the ground up.”
I nod to him. “Congratulations on your success.”
Killian bows his head. “And what do you do now that you’re out of the service?”
I start to tell him a bit about my company, how my goal is to do more private services and have a fleet by the end of year three. All three men seem impressed with my business plan.
“I can see a need for it, at least amongst this crowd,” Javier says. “I wish you luck, my friend.”
“Thank you. If any of you three would like to invest, I won’t turn it away,” I say, half joking, but really serious.
