Chapter 7

Murphy's Bar was already crowded when Julian walked in. The usual after-work crowd mixed with early-evening drinkers, all trying to wash away their own versions of failure. "Over here!" Carl waved from a corner booth. Two whiskey glasses waited on the table. "You started without me," Julian said. "You're slow." Carl pushed one glass over. "Drink up." Julian downed it in one go. The whiskey burned. "Another," he gasped. "Slow down, Romeo." Carl signaled the waitress anyway. "We've got all night." "Tell me about Jenkins." "Already?" Carl laughed. "No foreplay?" "Carl." "Fine." Carl pulled out his phone. "Maxwell Jenkins. Thirty-four. Self-made billionaire." "Self-made?" Julian scoffed. "Nobody's self-made." "His father was a janitor." Carl showed him an article. "Started with nothing. Built Miami's biggest development company." The waitress brought more drinks. "Keep them coming," Julian told her. "Bad day?" she asked. "Bad life." She smiled sympathetically. "Been there