The Better Brother

I hid my smile behind my coffee cup and gave her a nod.

“Anyway, I heard this Charlie guy say that they needed to find a local chef to work at the house or they would have to fly somebody in from Denver.”

“A chef?” I said, leaning in as if the word was drawing me across the table.

Jackie gave me a satisfied smile. “I happened to mention that my best friend and cousin Mags was a local chef who had gone to culinary school in Denver and might be interested in the gig.”

I felt my heart sink. “Jacks, I went to school for six months. I barely got past boiling water.” I sat back in the chair and felt the fleeting moment of hope fly away.

Jackie narrowed her dark eyes at me. “You can grill a steak and bake a potato, can’t you?”

“Of course.”

“That’s probably all this mountain man eats,” she said. “Look, you c

an follow directions in a cookbook, can’t you?”

“Yes.”

She gave me a satisfied smile. “Good, because you have an interview this morning at eleven.”

My mouth literally dropped open and my eyes blinked like a slot machine. “What? Are you serious? I can’t interview for a job like that. Oh, shit, Jackie, what have you done?”

“I’ve gotten you the interview that could change your life,” she said seriously. “All you have to do is say ‘yes’ when he asks if you can cook something.” She smirked at me. “Trust me, if he ain’t impressed with your cooking, he’ll be knocked out by your boobs. Wear something tight. I’ll pick it out for you.”

“I’m not going to do that,” I said, giving her a scolding look. “If I can’t get the job on my cooking skills…”

“You’ll do fine, Mags,” she said. “Just be yourself. Everybody loves you. All you have to do is get the job, then you can figure out how to do it.”

“I don’t know, Jacks,” I stared at the business card in my hand.

Jackie reached across the table and put a hand on my arm. “Mags, people like us don’t get too many chances at grabbing the brass ring. This is your chance. You can do this. I know you can.”

I smiled at her. Jackie was always my biggest cheerleader.

“Okay,” I said. “I’ll go.”

“Good,” she said, squeezing my arm. “And Mags?”

“Yes?”

“Don’t fuck this up.”

CHAPTER TWO: TYLER JENNER

I always meditated for thirty minutes in the morning, no matter where I was or what I was doing. It was my way of reconnecting with a higher sense of my internal self and realigning my psyche with the nature and the cosmos. It was like fucking oxygen for me.

I would find a quiet place where I could strip off all my clothes and be stark-naked and alone, then spend the next thirty minutes just breathing and thinking of absolutely nothing.

It was hard to clear my mind sometimes. Especially now that my outdoor sporting goods company had shot into the stratosphere and made me a billionaire at age thirty-five.

Shit, I just wanted to sell hunting and camping equipment like my dad did out of his little shop in Denver before he died. Now, Jenner Outdoor has become one of the largest conglomerates in the world.

Jenner Investment Group, the parent company, not only had major holdings in retail, but also in tourism, real estate, hotels, travel, communications, and technology.

I didn’t understand half the shit we did anymore.

I just let my right-hand man Charlie Prescott handle the business side of things so the money would keep flowing into my bank account and I could hang out in the woods doing what I loved; hunting, trapping, fishing, traveling, and fucking – and not necessarily in that order.