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“Sarah,” I said after picking up my office phone, “get me the mayor’s office.”
3
Ryan
I arranged the meeting with the mayor at the place that would remind him of his infidelity. Luxor. There were only a couple dozen patrons here tonight, probably because it was Monday. Most of them wore suits like me, most likely looking for a casual place to talk business, wanting to make the other person feel at ease. I had no such plan.
When the mayor walked into the bar, he looked around the darkened room. Black leather couches were scattered throughout, only made visible by a handful of flickering tea lights on the round tables in front of them. There was a spotlight on the bar and only two bartenders behind it. I didn’t recognize either of them. The pretty brunette with long wavy hair definitely wasn’t there. Pity. She was the only thing that had made me smile this weekend. She had turned me down, thinking it would deter me, but she didn't know how much I enjoyed the chase.
I smiled into my glass of scotch, remembering her words. My number’s off the menu. But she said nothing about her name.
“Crawford,” said the mayor when he approached my table.
I pushed back a scowl at his interruption and held the smile on my face instead.
“Mr. Mayor. Please, have a seat.” I motioned toward the couch next to me. He took the chair in front instead.
Coward.
“I admit, I was a bit surprised when you chose this place to meet,” he said, looking around, “but I don’t disapprove.”
“I didn’t think you would.”
His head snapped back to me, and he raised his eyebrow. “What is it you wanted to discuss?”
I sipped my drink and replied, “McArthur’s farm.”
He laughed, his belly straining against the small buttons of his suit jacket. “What about it? After old man McArthur kicked the bucket with no will or living relatives, it cleanly became city property. I own it.”
I nodded, placing my drink on the table next to a candle, and leaned forward. “But you’re going to sell it to me.”
This time his laugh was guttural, and his jacket’s middle button popped. “You don’t say? I hate to tell you this…” he stopped laughing, “no, I don’t, actually. I’m not selling the thirty-five acres of prime real estate to you. We have plans to turn it into the biggest casino the state’s ever seen.” He unbuttoned the rest of his jacket and leaned back in his chair, satisfied with having the upper hand.
I wasn’t deterred.
“We will pay you market value,” I said.
“You’re dreaming if you think whatever you can pay me today would be worth the amount we’d make down the road. And—”
“I wasn’t finished,” I said and held his eyes. I pulled out a manilla envelope and displayed three black and white 8 x 10 photos on the table in front of him.
He picked up the first photo and frowned. Then glanced at the other two.
“Where did you get these?”
“The bar’s security cameras.”
“They gave them to you?”
“No. I bought them. Are these your only questions?”
He smiled and shook his head. “Do you really think my wife doesn’t know? She has a lover herself. Really, Crawford. Are we done here?”
For a moment, he caught me off-guard. I hadn’t expected that response.
But I never lost a bet or a deal.
“How much do you want?” We were prepared to pay double what the land was worth.
