11. Beckett #2
“That’s fine by me. I’m no stranger to proving myself,” I said, reaching for my leather messenger bag and setting it on the stool beside me. The papers I needed were right on top in a manila folder. I’d already done all the prep work so they could see just how ruthless my father intended to be.
Duke sighed and then walked around the long bartop. “I have a feeling we’re gonna need something a little stronger than water. Pick your poison.”
I wasn’t a big drinker, but he was right. This conversation wasn’t just important for their business; it would be the final nail in the coffin of my relationship with my father if we were successful.
Sure, he was a horrible person. A downright miserable man who showed his disappointment with the thud of heavy fists against flesh.
But he was my father.
“Bourbon,” I said, clearing my throat. “Neat, please.”
Duke sucked in a breath through his teeth. “Coming right up.”
No one spoke while he poured. It was so silent, you could hear a pin drop. I fiddled with my watch as Olivia’s gaze continued to drill into me. There was no telling what was going on in her head.
From the little I knew of her, mostly thanks to my father’s tirades, she was a shrewd businesswoman.
When she was the CEO of her family’s former record label, she’d tripled their assets in a matter of years.
The whole world was shocked when she’d issued a statement that she was selling.
No one could figure out what could be so important that she’d give up the company.
Even I had a hard time coming to terms with that kind of sacrifice, but now?
Now, I thought I understood.
Frank’s Bar might look like some run-down, honky tonk that’d seen better days, but there was a magic here. It had a history, a story to tell. Duke and Olivia were more than owners; they were stewards of this place. They had a duty to preserve what was and create what could be.
As Duke joined his wife, setting down a clear drink with a perfect lime wedge on the rim, I slid the folder over. “What’s this?” he asked, pulling it closer.
“It’s my understanding that you have plans to expand.
Is that correct?” I twirled my finger in a circle.
“Frank’s Bar and Dancehall. A place where people can come to dance, and up-and-coming musicians can play for a live audience.
There’s a lot of passion behind your proposal.
It must have taken a long time to pull together. A lot of research, too.”
Olivia’s head shot up. “How did you—”
“Montgomery Holdings has been buying up businesses left and right in the area. The previous land development administrator was old school. He didn’t take too kindly to bribes. Called my father a ‘soulless yuppie,’ and refused to do business with him.”
A muscle in Duke’s jaw ticked. “But Dale had a heart attack.”
“Which left a very prominent and convenient opportunity for my father. The new guy is desperate to leave a mark of his own, and is willing to bend his morals to make it happen.”
“Shit.” Duke and Olivia cursed at the same time. It was almost adorable how in sync they were. “How much bend are we talking here?”
I took a sip, savoring the burn of the bourbon on my tongue.
“Oh, my father has him twisted up like a goddamn pretzel. He donated a very large sum of money to the guy’s office and hasn’t let him forget it.
So far, he’s approved every single proposal our company has sent across his desk. Edward Montgomery says to jump…”
“He asks how high,” Olivia mused, looking back over the proposal. Her lips twisted in disgust before pushing the folder away. “I’m guessing this means our proposal is going to get denied.”
I nodded once. “At first, yes. He’ll counter, come back with bullshit reasons you’ll have to postpone construction, or why the licenses can’t be renewed. There will be so much red tape around this thing, it’ll look like a goddamn crime scene.”
“And where do you come in? You’re not doing this out of the kindness of your heart.”
This time, the sip I took didn’t burn. It was time to lay my cards on the table. “No, I’m not. I’d like to be your partner.”
To their credit, Duke and Olivia didn’t immediately start throwing shit at my head or tell me to leave, so I considered this a win. They did, however, look like they were one second away from doing so.
“Look, I’m not trying to lay claim to anything you’ve built here, but I am starting from the ground up with my own business. One that doesn’t involve Edward Montgomery. I don’t want to be associated with a man who destroys something with soul in order to make way for something that seems so—”
“Soulless?” Duke grunted.
“Exactly. I need clients for my portfolio, and I’d like to add Frank’s to that list.” I turned toward Olivia. “Your coffers run deep. Mine run deeper. I have connections most people could only dream of.”
Manicured nails tapped against an empty cocktail glass as Olivia spoke. “Your father’s coffers run deep. And your contacts are his contacts, which will backfire the moment he catches wind of what you’re doing.”