Page 43 of Coming In Hot
“Damn, you’re a real snoop. You know about that lot?”
“You’re not the only one who’s good at his job.”
“Don’t pretend you don’t also make good money,” Pharo accuses. “What are you doing with it?”
“What are you doing with that lot?” I counter.
Pharo laughs, realizing he’s been beaten. He pops a forkful of potato in his mouth, chewing slowly to keep me in suspense. “I’d planned on building a garage.”
That’s it? That’s all he’s gonna give me? It’s been niggling at me for weeks and just when I’m close to an answer, he keeps me dangling, loading up his fork with more potato.
“Oh, come on!” I snap, grabbing his fork before he can take another bite. “What kind of garage?”
Pharo snatches the fork back from me, casually using it to cut a piece of pork. Watching him eat is enough to drive me crazy. He’s so methodical, so meticulous, so damn neat! Unlike me, who just shovels it in like it’s a means to an end.
“A place to restore vintage motorcycles.”
“Damn, that’s impressive. I can totally see you doing that.”
“I’m tired of destroying things. I want to create something, save something from the trash.” His eyes gleam with excitement. “Think of it. Salvaged brick walls, lots of chrome, steel, and glass. Bikes on display in various stages of restoration. Screens on the wall running videos of classic bikes, nostalgic footage of early manufacturing plants and shit. I can see it in my head clear as day.”
I choke up a little, watching him light up over something so close to his heart. “That sounds amazing, Pharo. Why haven’t you done it yet?”
He shrugs, the spark in his eyes dimming. “When would I have the time? I’m always crossing continents, always jet-lagged.”
I lean in, my tone sounding sharper than I expected. “A dream’s just a dream until you make it real. What the hell are you working so hard for if you die before you can build your garage?”
Pharo scoffs, shaking his head with a smirk. “I can’t believe I’m getting life lessons fromJaxon James. What the hell is this world coming to?”
I roll my eyes, trying to hide the flicker of annoyance beneath my calm exterior. “Hey, sometimes even the best need a little guidance. It’s why I have a habit of talking to myself. I like to hear expert advice.”
Pharo leans back, his grin never fading. “Yeah? Well, when you’re right, you’re right. But don’t expect me to start taking advice from you every day.” He chuckles, but there’s something behind his eyes—like he's not entirely joking.
I let out a breath, my mind spinning with everything we’ve talked about. “Whatever, Pharo. Just don’t wait too long. Life doesn’t wait for anyone, not even you.”
He stares at me for a moment, his expression softening, before he changes the subject. “So, tell me. What’syourdream, Jax? Or are you too busy shoveling food into your face to think about that?”
I pause with the sloppy burger halfway to my mouth, blobs of barbecue sauce and grease dripping from all sides. I glance at him, resisting the urge to wipe my face on my sleeve. “My dream? You really want to know?”
Pharo raises an eyebrow, clearly amused. “I’m all ears, Jaxon. Surprise me.”
I sigh, dropping the burger back onto the plate. He came clean with me, so the least I can do is return the honesty. “You know that last surgery Mandy had? The one the VA rejected?”
Pharo squints, his brow furrowing as he tries to recall the details. “Yeah. They said it was experimental because of the stem cells, so they rejected it.”
I raise my brows, silently implying the rest.
He stares at me for a beat, the pieces slowly clicking together. “Wait. Are you saying you…?”
I tilt my head, swallowing hard. “I paid for it. All of it. Out of my pocket. Every last cent.” I try to sound casual, but my chest twinges where my heart lies.
Pharo leans back, his expression unreadable. “Jesus, Jax. You didn’t have to do that.”
“I know.” My voice cracks a little. “But I couldn’t let him suffer because some bureaucrat couldn’t bother to give a damn. It wasn’t their decision to make. It was mine.” Pharo appears shell-shocked. “There’s more,” I admit, drawing in a deep breath and bracing myself. “West and Brandt’s boot camp? The recent increase in revenue? That’s from some strategic advertising I did.”
“Seriously?” He stares at me like I’ve grown a second head.
I bob my head, swallowing hard. “Yeah, but it’s nothing. Less than half a day’s work. I just narrowed down their target audience, ran some analysis on the data, figured out where to hit these people with the ads… and voila! Targeted ads.”
