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“Right, anything to make her real excited,” Flynn agrees.
Then they all crack up in hysterical laughter, and I realize to my horror what I just said.
“Nooooo!” I groan out loud.
The whole message replays in my mind—in all its dirty detail. “I said it was a benefits package, didn’t I?”
“Nope!” Charlie grins. “Just that you can make it way bigger, if that’s what it’ll take.”
“Fuck,” I groan again, just imagining how Jenn will receive the message. Judging from the way she punched that asshole the other week: Not well! “She’s going to think I’m a dirty creep now. She’ll never take the job!”
“Tough break,” Dash says, taking pity on me.
“Nothing tough about it,” Dash laughs. “That shit was hilarious.”
“Uh-oh. What did he do now?” a nearby voices asks. Dash’s girlfriend, Callie, joins us with Grace, Charlie’s other half.
“Nothing,” I say, glaring at Dash.
“Nothing that Austin didn’t deserve,” Charlie amends.
He and Grace exchange smitten smiles, and I roll my eyes. I’m happy for my bros—of course I am. But sometimes it stings a little that love dropped into the laps of two guys who were resisting it the most. And here I am, ready and waiting for something real, with no sparks in sight.
Except with a woman who’s probably reporting me to the cops for nuisance calls as we speak.
“You ready?” Grace asks Charlie and Dash, who are sliding out of the booth.
“Where are you kids off to?” Flynn asks.
“Brunch,” Callie says, happily.
I give her a serious look. “All right, listen. Unless you want to end up at karaoke and possibly arrested, donotlet Dash get the bottomless sangria.”
“That’s true.” Seb nods vigorously. “Good pointer.”
“Fuck you very much,” Dash says, good-naturedly. “I was twenty-three.”
“Karaoke,” Callie repeats, scanning Dash’s sheepish look. “I might have to see that. Sangria, you say?”
“I do love sangria,” Grace muses happily.
Charlie shoots me a dark look and mutters, “What are you doing to me, man?”
That’s what they get for giving me shit about my call to Jenn. Enjoy your boozy brunch and the absolute shitshow that is Phineas Dashford IV on Spanish wine and sugar.
“You wanna fifth-wheel it?” Dash asks, clapping my arm.
“Dash,” Callie scolds.
“He’s fine,” Dash assures her. “Austin loves being the last single man at the table.”
I was, for most of my life. But maybe even Callie can sense that things are shifting for me. I’m halfway through my thirties, retired from one career and onto another. I want the spa to succeed as much as I’ve ever wanted anything. But, more and more, I want a life beyond my business, too.
I climb out of the booth behind them. “I’ve gotta meet up with Hakeem anyway. Enjoy your brunch. Send a video if Karaoke Dash tries to hit Mariah’s high notes.”
* * *
I meetmy business manager at one of our lunch spots—a hole-in-the-wall falafel place we found a year out of college. Back then, I had a flood of pro-ball money and no idea what to do with it. Plenty of big-time business managers would have helped me for a hefty fee. Hakeem was fresh out of business school, but I trusted him more than all the experts who were strangers to me. He kept my finances on the straight and narrow for my whole career.
