3. Name Of the Game
Chapter three
Name Of the Game
Brody
A town hall meeting after a call with Tanaka feels like sitting through a conversation that never goes anywhere. Instead of champagne and gossip, it’s cheap beer and petty complaints. One look around tells me all I need to know. Bluepeak is practically begging for someone like me.
This place hasn’t changed in decades. Same shops. Same faces. Same backwards logic about what counts as “charm.” They’re probably still impressed by Wi-Fi. This whole trip has been… well, a real trip. That "Welcome to Bluepeak" sign could’ve been a wormhole to another dimension.
“As many of you know, Stirling intends to replace our beloved lodge with a large hotel and resort. The very thing that goes against everything Bluepeak stands for.”
Here we fucking go. Defender of the lodge, small-town values, and probably the squirrels.
She believes every word coming out of her mouth.
Not just a pretty face. She knows exactly what she’s doing.
I scan the room again. They’re eating it up.
Interesting. Hell, who am I kidding? If I want this to go smoothly, she’s the one I need to convince.
I don’t know if it’s the ‘trust me’ ponytail or the buttons on her shirt clinging for life, but it’s distracting.
Focus, Brody. You’re not here to ogle. Much.
There is some pushback from a few people in the crowd who actually have brains in their heads, or at least the ability to picture what Stirling Tech could do for this place.
That means the marketing team didn’t waste their time.
All I need is a crack. One opening. Just enough for them to start wondering if their way of life could use a serious upgrade.
Of course it does. No matter what Bluepeak Barbie has to say about it.
“They’re happy to uproot several species of native wildlife with the decimation of hundreds of acres of land, including the ancient spruce standing on Gray’s Island.”
Chloe Adams. That’s the name the old guy used when he called her up. She’s young, but by no means a pushover. And she’s hell-bent on keeping outsiders out of Bluepeak.
Her jab about my project being an eyesore grates on me. Eyesore? Lady, I had a world-class team working for months to design this concept. ‘Revolutionary’ doesn’t begin to cover it. But I hold my tongue, jaw clenched. Stay calm. I’m supposed to be a fly on the wall.
If I’d known better, I would’ve ditched the suit and worn something more... small-town. The curious looks haven’t stopped since I sat down. I sink lower, trying to blend in and listen to Miss Bossy on stage. Then I hear her next line. A personal attack. One I can’t ignore.
“... generic, cold, cookie-cutter creations, as lacking in character as their CEO.”
Excuse me? The scrape of my chair rings out as the room goes dead quiet. Well, this is happening .
I’m already moving, and by the time I realize it, I’m halfway down the aisle, heading straight for her.
She’s making me out to be the villain, when I’m the one about to take this town into the future. Not that they’d notice, with their heads shoved halfway up the past’s ass.
Her eyes, green and sharp, lock on mine as I get closer. She has her guard up, but you wouldn’t know it from her posture—cool, still, composed. But I see it. The tiny bead of sweat on her brow, and the way her pulse jumps in her neck. Gotcha.
Not that I’m watching her pulse. Or the soft curve of her neck. Shame she’s using it to bite my head off.
“ Can I help you? ” Her tone is short and measured. No nonsense. She has the whole ‘I’m in charge here’ vibe going, and somehow, I’m into it. Damn it.
The look on her face stops me cold. I meet her stare with my best harmless-but-hot expression. Play it cool. Don’t go full CEO. These small-town types aren’t built for that level of intensity, and I need them on my side.
“Forgive me, I’m not familiar with the nuances of...” I say, waving vaguely at the people staring like I’ve grown a second head. “Town meetings, I think you call them? You do allow questions, right?”
Chloe’s lips tighten. Nostrils flaring slightly, just enough to be sexy, in that murdery sort of way. The crowd gasps. She’s probably picturing chucking a folding chair at my face. I wouldn’t blame her.
The redhead beside her leans into the mic. Her sidekick, with a ‘I’ll fight you for her honor’ vibe. Cute. “You can remain seated and raise your hand if you have something to say. That’s how it works.”
Raise my hand? What is this, second grade?
“I’ve been here for almost an hour, and I have yet to see a single raised hand,” I say, flashing my winning grin.
The one that’s saved my ass—and helped me get into a few situations I didn’t hate…
you know what I mean. “Everyone’s been shouting whatever they want, so I figured the podium was fair game. Don’t you?”
Chloe exhales slowly. She’s fighting to keep it together, and I’ll admit, it’s impressive.
“Fine.” The word is clipped, with jagged edges primed to cut right through me. Oh, she is fucking pissed. I’m not backing down. If I were any one of these small-town softies, it might’ve worked. But I’m not.
“Thank you.” I square my shoulders and smile a little wider. She’s already two seconds away from setting me ablaze with her laser eyes.
But she doesn’t flinch. Not even a twitch. That armor is locked up tight. Damn. I’m going to have to earn this one. I watch the way she pulls herself upright before speaking again.
“Since you’re so eager to speak,” she says coolly, “why don’t you introduce yourself.”
Bated breath. I never really understood that phrase until now. Everyone has their eyes on me. Not a cough, not a shift. Just silence thick enough to chew through. It’s the kind of attention I usually live for—but this feels like stepping into a trap set with lip gloss and fury.
“Brody Stirling, CEO of Stirling Technologies.” Recognition flickers across the crowd. Heads turn. Mouths drop.
Chloe’s lips flatten into a thin, furious line. She hates me. She really fucking hates me. It’s kind of hot.
“The one supposedly devoid of character,” I add, letting it hang for effect. “According to you.” If I’m going down, I’m going down swinging.
She doesn’t like that I hit back as hard. Chloe Adams strikes me as someone who’s used to winning. Used to being the smartest, loudest voice in the room. Too bad I don’t back down.
“I take it you’re the mayor of Bluepeak,” I say letting the smug bleed in. I already know she’s not. But tossing her more power than she has? That’s how you rattle the self-appointed gatekeepers.
Call it corporate foreplay. Build ’em up, tear ’em down.
“I’m not the mayor,” she responds, her confidence faltering a fraction. “I run Bluepeak Lodge.”
She runs the lodge? Well, shit. This got exciting. I keep my face neutral, masking the shock rattling around in my brain after that little nugget of information. Not the mayor. Not a town chair or planner. Miss Bossy runs the lodge.
This is going to be fun.
“Interesting,” I reply, digging my hands in my pockets like I have all the time in the world. Let’s see how far she’s willing to go before she snaps. “You seem to know an awful lot about things that aren’t exactly in your job description. Sounds like scare tactics to protect your paycheck.”
First hit. Soft jab. Enough to piss her off.
Her friend opens her mouth, ready to jump in, but Chloe lifts a hand and shuts her down without a word. Total control. Over them, anyway. Me? That’s a different story.
Her voice stays calm, though there's heat simmering underneath. “I know a lot about this town because I love it. I was born here. Grew up here. I’ve spent my life fighting to keep Bluepeak exactly what it is—home.”
Already, I’m running the numbers on how to knock her off her pedestal. Time to hit her with facts. That usually does the trick. She’ll have to, at the very least, acknowledge there’s some benefit to our development here. Once that happens, the rest will be a piece of cake.
“I don’t doubt that you love this place,” I say, shifting slightly so I’m facing the crowd. “But you’ve left a few things out, haven’t you?”
Every head in the room turns. Some lean forward, eyes locked on us. The shocked looks on the faces around me send a rush of exhilaration coursing through my veins.
“I got my information straight from—” she starts.
“I’m not doubting the numbers, Miss Adams.” My voice slices through hers, clean and cool. Classic power move. Boardroom 101. “I’m questioning your transparency. That 6% rise in tourism? Not as squeaky clean as you made it sound.”
She swallows hard, trying to push down her agitation. God, I love this part. Where they realize they’ve underestimated me.
A quick look is exchanged between her and her friend, and I read it as panic. Go ahead, huddle up. You’ll need more than one fiery sidekick to keep up .
“Of those who visited Bluepeak, almost half of them left without spending the night.” I tell the room, pitching my voice to the crowd.
This is my court, and I’ve got the jury’s full attention.
“Wanna guess why? Because they took one look at the ‘quaint’ accommodations and bounced. Day visitors—that’s all they were.
They breeze in, buy a drink, take a few pictures of the lake for their social media, then speed off to Sunset Valley for an actual night out. ”
Chloe’s chin juts. Her cheeks flush with anger. Damn, she’s even more gorgeous when she’s pissed. She’s ready to throw hands.
“We don’t want those people in Bluepeak,” she snaps. Arms crossed. Classic defensive posture. I can practically see her building an emotional barricade, brick by brick. How long can she hold onto that? “We cater to those looking for tranquility, a break from the hustle and bustle, nature—”
“And that’s your problem,” I shoot back, still riding the high of her unraveling. “Sunset Valley has tranquility too. But they figured out how to monetize it. Meanwhile, your tourism boom hasn’t helped the local economy in nearly a decade. You can’t eat mountain views, Chloe .”
That gets them. A wave of disgruntled voices ripple through the room, and she shifts at the podium. Wobble detected. Bullseye.
She steps away from the podium, her composure wavering slightly. Her friend starts to move, but Chloe silences her with one flick of her hand. Still in control.
“Chloe, wait—” Red calls after her.
She’s stomping across the stage like vengeance made the top of her to-do list.
“Who the hell do you think you are?” she hisses. “Waltzing in here and hijacking our town meeting with your corporate propaganda?”
There’s the passion.
Her finger jabs into my chest, firmer than I expected. Weirdly? I’m into it. Why is getting yelled at this hot?
“ You sure you can manage a little woman all by yourself ?” she challenges, folding her arms like she’s daring me to flinch.
That fire in her eyes? It's lethal. And kind of addictive.
“There’s nothing to manage.” I pull back the grin threatening to creep in.
Focus, Stirling. She’s not here to flirt.
She’s here to gut me on stage and mount my ego above the fireplace.
“All I’m saying is the people deserve all the facts before they make up their minds.
Stirling Technologies is a much-needed jolt of life for this town, whether you like it or not. ”
“And all I’m saying is we don’t need the likes of you and your space-age company in Bluepeak.”
I laugh. Let them hear it. Let her feel it.
“Progress isn’t something to fear,” I turn back to the lot of them, my voice loud enough to carry. “Progress can happen without erasing the soul of a town. You think I want to bulldoze what makes Bluepeak special? Hell no. I want to amplify it. Honor it. Elevate it.”
Glancing back at her, I can’t help but smirk. “And if you’re so sure I’m the enemy, Chloe, then by all means… try to stop me.”
She takes a single step closer. “ Try me .”
Everything else fades. It’s only us now.
My brows go up. That fire of hers hits somewhere I wasn’t expecting. Not sure if I want to teach her a lesson or buy her dinner.
Hell, maybe both.