Total pages in book: 85
Estimated words: 78249 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 391(@200wpm)___ 313(@250wpm)___ 261(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78249 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 391(@200wpm)___ 313(@250wpm)___ 261(@300wpm)
Roman folded his arms and cocked his head in amusement. "Aww, upset that I never invite you out, Moira? All you have to do is ask. I could look online to see if there are any bars that allow vampires and ghouls before we get there. I'd hate for you to get turned away at the door."
"Cute," Moira said.
"You know," Julian tapped his chin as he frowned in thought. "I think Roman might be on to something. My grandma loves Bingo, and so does her best friend. That’s two out of three geriatric gladiators I know who love Bingo. Suspicious." Even though Julian was by all accounts a marketing genius, he was honestly an airhead in most other areas of life and business. He looked the part too—tall and naturally athletic with thick blonde hair that fell to his chin, perpetually rumpled designer clothes, and the easy, white-toothed smiles of somebody who grew up surfing. The type who'd definitely been in a frat and still had the photos to prove it.
One of Julian’s hidden talents was diffusing tension between Roman and Moira, who often looked like they wanted to kill one another. In other words, Julian was currently present at this meeting because I knew he’d distract Roman and Moira from fighting too much.
"Let's focus on the task at hand," I said, my voice low but serious.
Roman, Julian, and Moira all straightened in their seats, eyes on me.
"You said we could acquire all these lots, Roman?" I asked, touching my fingertip to the map. "If you're right, this move would nearly double our footprint in Manhattan. Each of these lots is absolutely massive. We could fit two or three skyscrapers in this space... We would be in the green for years with projects like that."
"Possibly," Roman said carefully. "See, these lots currently house old factories that aren’t in use. A shoe factory, a leather factory, and a rubber factory, to be exact. The guy who owned them was named Marcellus Davenport. He was really hands-on and made millions during his life running these places. But he's old now."
"Generously seasoned?" Julian suggested.
Roman glared but continued. "Anyway, he's so generously seasoned that he is going to die soon, and he knows it. But the guy has no heirs. No family. If he died tomorrow, the land would pass to the city, which would probably use it for some public bullshit."
Julian shook his head in disapproval. "Civics aren't bullshit, man. Did you ride bullshit to the office today? Do you call bullshit for help when your house is on fire?"
"I paid my driver to bring me to work today," Roman said. "And my house has never been on fire."
"To our collective disappointment," Moira added.
"So he dies," I cut in. "And the land goes to the city. I'm assuming there's an 'unless' here."
"There is," Roman said. "I found a little legal loophole... If we play our cards right, we could become the default inheritors of those lots. All we would need to do is wait for this guy to croak and—"
"Croak?" Julian said, throwing up his hands. "We wait for him to transition from life to death gently. Kick his last can. Leave his meat sack behind."
"Those are all terrible," Moira said.
"What is the loophole?" I asked.
"In the absence of heirs and inheritors, the property would pass to a property management company... So if we can convince him to let us spruce up the places in any way, we would become the de facto inheritors of the property when he leaves his meat sack behind."
"That seems kind of immoral," Julian said. "Like we're tricking this old man into leaving us his factories?"
Moira squinted. "You think he'll care if his factories go to us or the city when he's dead?"
"He could," Julian said. "I don't know about you, but I have no interest in being haunted. I once took a ghost tour in St. Augustine and went to this lighthouse. I swear on my nana I saw a ghost. Granted, there was some drinking involved, but maybe that just opened up my senses to the other side, you know?"
"No," Moira said. "We don't know."
"Enough," I said. "I want this to become our top priority. Roman, get with legal and make sure this loophole is iron-clad. I don't want to pursue this only to find out it won't hold up in court. Moira, I want you to take the next week to find the right person to meet with this old guy. I need somebody who can charm him. Somebody who can convince him this is something he needs. Julian, you're going to work up a project proposal. Give Moira a plan of action to send with the person she chooses—sell him on why he needs us to work for him on this project. Understood?"
Roman and Moira simply nodded, both of their eyes lit with obvious hunger and excitement at the opportunity to prove themselves. Julian sat back in his chair, face grim. "Damn it. I'm going to get haunted for this, aren't I?"