Fakers (Licking Thicket 1)

“I’m fine, Pamela. The truth of the matter is, the General isn’t going to accept another campaign—”

“He will if you convince him he’s wrong. And you should, Brooks.”

I understood the implication. What it meant for my job and my future. But… “I won’t,” I said, with no polite smile and no equivocation. And it felt good. It felt great.

It felt right.

Even though I wanted to vomit.

Pamela frowned. “Brooks, you’re forcing my hand,” she warned.

But I wasn’t. I was forcing my own. And scary as it was to think about leaving everything I’d built for myself in New York, it was scarier still to think of living a life that wasn’t anchored by anything real. I was done with faking my way through things. So it was clear what I needed to do.

I pushed away from the door, braced my hands on the table, and smiled. “You’ve taught me a lot, Pamela, and I can’t thank you enough, but I quit.”

“Son, I only wish I coulda seen the look on her face when you told her you were going back to Tennessee.” General Partridge—or Beau, as he’d invited me to call him, since we’d become besties after he’d ordered a third round of Johnnie Walker—grinned at me, his cheeks pink behind his full, white beard.

I pushed my lips together and looked across the room to the bar, where Paul and Parrish Partridge chatted while waiting for another round of drinks.

“I’d rather I hadn’t seen it,” I said honestly, taking a sip of my first shot of whiskey since I was still dehydrated from all the Fuzzy Thickets last week.

Pamela hadn’t taken the news well at all. She’d ranted and raved for a long while before realizing I was not going to change my mind. She’d said she was disappointed in me. She said I’d let her down. All the things I’d dreaded hearing all my life.

But in a strange way, I felt numb to it. Watching Mal walk away had been so gut-wrenching, other shit paled in comparison.

I downed the rest of my glass in one go.

“You did the right thing, Brooks. There are lines a man can’t cross. Sounds silly, maybe, but I’m proud of you. And you’re a man I’d like to do business with, once you start your own firm.”

I laughed once. My own firm, with Paul as my partner. An ad company based in Tennessee. I wasn’t sure why I hadn’t put all the pieces together before today.

“Absolutely, Gener—ah, Beau. I’ll let you know as soon as I have the paperwork drawn up.”

The General nodded once and took another sip of his drink. He regarded me pensively. “You know, I can’t help noticing you don’t look like a man who’s ready to celebrate.”

“No, sir. Not what I expected to happen today. It’s… terrifying,” I admitted. “Good, but terrifying.”

“Best things are.” He watched me again. “Have you told your family and friends yet?”

“Not yet. My mama will be thrilled.”

He nodded. “And will you be leaving behind a sweetheart here in the city?”

“I… no. No sweetheart.” I swallowed and reached for another glass of whiskey.

“Ahhhh,” he said, as though by saying nothing I’d nevertheless spilled my guts. “You know, my Marnie and I were childhood sweethearts. Married almost fourteen years this spring.”

“Four…teen?” Quick math suggested the General had left childhood behind slightly longer than that.

“Yep. She was my first love. Everyone in town knew it. But I was smart, you see. I went off to the Army to make my fortune, so when I came back to marry her I’d be able to offer her the world… Only when I came back, she was already married with a baby on the way. Turned out, everyone knew I loved her except her, and I wasn’t quite as smart as I thought.”

My jaw dropped. “That’s… awful.”

“Oh, love’s rarely perfect, Brooks. I left town again and said I’d never come back. But I did. For my fortieth high school reunion. By then, I’d really made something of myself, you understand. Married and divorced. Had my son and daughter. Built a whole flock of restaurants and bought a garage full of Cadillacs. I had this notion that I’d roll into Soddy Creek and everyone would fall at my feet. Marnie’d see what she’d missed out on.”

“Oh, Lord.”

“Uh-huh.” His mustache twitched as he laughed at the memory. “Proud as a peacock and twice as stupid.”

“And did they not fall at your feet?”

“Oh, no, most of ’em did. But not my Marnie. She took one look at me and said it was pretty clear I drove a Cadillac ’cause it was the only car that would fit my ego. But she also said we could head to the Waffle House for coffee if I promised to leave my ego locked in the trunk. And the rest is history.” His eyes twinkled. “Not gonna lie to ya, Brooks, havin’ money’s real nice, especially when you know what it’s like to go without. But having a person who sees you for who you are and not who you’re pretending to be? That’s priceless.”