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“She’s not,” Michael states, and my eyes flick to him in a silent request for more information.
“Or she isn’t a practicing lawyer, anyway. She is a teacher at the school.” He turns his computer screen around to show me the research he has already done on her. My eyes flick to the screen, and I see a picture of a smiling Emily Carr staring back at me. It is from the school website and says she is a teacher of kids with special needs.
“Fuck me.” I run my hands through my hair. I am totally confused. This woman is making minimum wage as a special needs teacher in a run-down elementary school on the wrong side of town and still owned the meeting like a pro.
“Yeah, from what I saw today, she can hold her own. The school can’t afford a lawyer, so they obviously are using the resources that they have.”
“They are not interested in selling,” I say to him as I take a seat in the chair opposite him.
“I know, but Beasley wants that property…”
“Get a file together on her. We need to know everything about her. How long she has been at the school, where she lives, her history, get everything you can find,” I tell him in a rush, my mind containing a whirl of questions.
“Already on it. What do we do about Beasley?” Michael asks, rubbing his chin.
“Well, maybe he can’t get what he wants this time?” I murmur, knowing that Beasley will never rest until he gets exactly what he wants.
“Hah. You can tell him that. It is better coming from the boss than me,” Michael says, lifting his palms in surrender.
“What was Jeremy Lucas doing here?” I change the subject, knowing full well the slimy prick wasn’t here to see me. I don’t have a lot of time for Jeremy, but he is extremely well connected and one of those people you need to keep on your good side.
“He was meeting with Clive about a merger he is considering.”
Clive is our merger specialist, specifically in relation to international acquisitions, with a focus on China and Asia Pacific. He’s one of the best in the city, so it is understandable that someone like Jeremy Lukas would want his input.
“Please tell me we are not doing business with him,” I groan, really preferring that we stay well away from the asshole who has a reputation for undercutting and conducting underhanded business dealings.
“He spoke with Harrison, so I am guessing that is now something you need to discuss with him,” Michael responds with a smirk. I rub my hand down my face, and we get to work figuring out a plan of attack to get our client the school property he desires.
* * *
After doing my own research on Emily Carr, I have to say, I didn’t find much. She is a ghost, and aside from her bio on the school website, I found nothing. Michael is still digging, which is why I now find myself outside William Heights Elementary School.
Walking through the glass doors to the front office, I stop short in the tiny foyer. It is much more compact than what I was expecting, and although colorful with kids’ artwork strewn everywhere, it is smaller than my bathroom in my penthouse. My cell buzzes in my pocket and I don’t even bother pulling it out to see; I already know it is Sasha. Her calls are now increasing. I used to get a few a week, all I would ignore. But now it is a few a day, with messages in between. It is starting to get really annoying.
“Can I help you?” an older lady behind the front desk says, eyeing me warily. I am in my crisp Prada suit; my polished black leather shoes reflect the overhead lights, and my dark hair is styled to perfection. I look out of place in the suburbs, let alone a school like this that is in desperate need of a good paint job and heavy maintenance work.
“It’s okay, Margaret, I will take it from here,” George says, appearing from the office at the side. It seems the old guy does have a voice. He didn’t use it earlier in the week at our meeting and let Emily do all the negotiations at the table.
“George,” I say and extend my hand with a nod in greeting.
“What can we do for you?” I am surprised when he takes my hand and his grip is strong. He doesn’t appear to be the weak old man I thought he was.
“Well, I wanted to come by and look at the school and was hoping to chat with you or Emily some more.”
“Our position hasn’t changed,” he says, his stance solid.
“I understand that, but I wouldn’t be doing my job if I didn’t try,” I offer.
He nods in understanding.
“Emily is still in class. Perhaps we should go down to her room and you can see the good work we do here. Might make you understand our position more.”
“Happy to,” I say, and I follow him down the corridor.
“We have close to eighty kids here, and five different rooms. Most are for general studies, so the kids here are able to get a solid education before moving on to the local middle school down the road. We offer them free schooling, meals, and additional extracurricular activities, such as weekend swimming lessons to help them engage and thrive, which unfortunately, doesn’t always happen in this community.” I nod, listening to the information George is giving me, interested in the business of education and filing away anything he says that I may be able to use against him later. As I look around the small hallway, I notice peeling paint, scuffed walls, and cracked floor tiles. It really needs an overhaul.
“However, Emily teaches our special needs class. It is a group of about ten kids, varied in ages and disabilities,” he says, coming to a stop outside a classroom. This is not entirely new information, as from the school website, I know she is a teacher for kids with special needs. I can’t say I have spent a lot of time with kids who need extra support, or kids in general, but I assume it has to be a hands-on role.
