“Not what I’m hearing,” Finley said. “I’m hearing they hadn’t even started yet.”
“What else are they going to say? They’re in cover-your-ass mode.”
“I don’t know. Thing is, guy like you, you’d have all the expertise to do that.”
“Randy, have you completely lost your mind? We’ve bought the land, and the deal requires that Grayson drop the structures before we acquire it. What’ve I got to gain by blowing things up and killing people? What sense does that make?”
Finley was quiet for a moment. “I have to admit, I can’t figure out an angle. Unless this gives you an out on the deal — then Grayson comes back, slashes his price so he can unload the place.”
“There’s no goddamn angle. I had nothing to do with it. It was the demolition company. You can take that to the bank. Let’s move on. Let’s talk about you and what you’re going to do for me.”
“I have to get elected first.”
“You haven’t even officially declared.”
“Imminent.”
“You need to get moving. You need to win this thing. I got no chance with that Amanda Croydon sitting in the mayor’s chair. I gotta get her out of there. She’s an eco-bitch. You’d think she’d be behind me, but anytime anyone else has ever proposed anything similar, there’s noise concerns — everyone’s worried about soil pollution, contamination of the water table, all kinds of shit that never really happens, at least not as bad as they say it does. I’ve made a major investment here, Randy, buying that land. You need to get that woman out of there and start running things again.”
“All in good time,” Finley said. “And come on, you never bought property before without knowing if you’d get all the proper approvals? It’s all part of doing business. And what’s the worst-case scenario? If somehow I don’t get in, if Amanda hangs on, you can always just build houses there. You’re not going to get a fight on that.”
“Houses don’t bring in a daily revenue stream,” Mancini said. “You build a house, you sell it, you make your profit, and you move on. But a metal recycling plant, that’s money coming in twenty-four/seven, years into the future. Jobs, too.”
“Jobs, sure. But like you said, there’s money to be made. Once I’m in, I can use my connections. I know people — I can grease palms — I can get this thing approved. I’m not promising there won’t be a few bumps along the way, but it’ll happen.”
The drinks arrived.
“That’s terrific, sweetheart,” Finley said to Kimmy.
“You ready to order lunch?” she asked.
“Steak frites, rare,” Finley said. “Frank?”
“I haven’t even looked at the menu.”
“Just get the steak.”
“I don’t know if I feel like steak.”
“What are you, a homo?” Finley grinned, glanced at Kimmy. “Just joking. I’m totally okay with homos.”
“Fine, the steak,” Mancini said. “Well-done.”
Kimmy slipped away.
“I wonder if she’s seeing anybody,” Finley said.
“You ever think you may have overestimated your attractiveness?” the builder asked.
“Women are drawn to power.”
Mancini laughed. “You used to be the mayor of Promise Falls, not the goddamn secretary of defense.”
“Still, people know me. They know who I am.”
“They know what you are,” Mancini said. “That’s what worries me about whether you can actually get yourself elected again.”
“I feel pretty good about it,” he said. “All I have to do is convince everyone I’m the town’s savior.”
“What, like Jesus?”
“But with Florsheims instead of sandals,” Finley said. He leaned in closer. “This town owes me, Frank. This town owes me another chance. I got fucked over here. These people let me down, and I’m going to give them a chance to make it up to me. I was the victim of a smear campaign, plain and simple.”
“Did the left-wing media force that hooker to blow you?”
Finley did a backhand flip, waving away Mancini’s concern. “People act like they care about that stuff — they love to read about it — but in their hearts they really don’t give a shit. They know I’m one of them. I’m just a regular guy. I get their concerns. I’m not some elitist asshole talking down to them.”
“You’re rich, Randy. You got a thriving water-bottling business. You’re one of the one percent.”
“Yeah, well, I don’t come across that way, and that’s what matters. It’s all about perception.”
Finley told Mancini about how he’d brought someone on to help manage his image, plan a campaign. The guy, Finley said, wasn’t exactly James Carville, but for Promise Falls, he wasn’t bad. Former newspaper guy, worked for the Standard before they pulled the plug on it. Which led to a ten-minute discussion of how it was a lot easier to do what you wanted to do when there was no local paper breathing down your neck.
“No headlines about kickbacks,” Mancini said.
Finley frowned. “That’s a very cynical point of view, Frank. What I am is a facilitator. I make things happen. You want to set up a business that will not only profit you, but serve your community. I can help facilitate that. It’s not unreasonable that I should expect some compensation for my efforts. Be they material or political. It’s the system working the way it was designed to work.”
Kimmy returned with their two orders of steak frites.
Mancini said, “Could I get another scotch, and a glass of water?”
“Tap, or bottled?”
Before he could answer, Finley said, “I wouldn’t go with tap. Never, ever tap. Unless you’re brushing your teeth. Sweetheart, you’ve got Finley Springs, right?”
“I’m not sure,” she said. “I think we have San Pellegrino in sparkling, and probably Evian in flat.”
Finley cocked his head. “Are you sure about that?”
“Uh, I think so.”
“Maybe you better go check.” Finley’s voice had turned subtly menacing.
Kimmy withdrew.
“You’re making a scene,” Mancini said. “So what if they don’t carry your water? There’s lots of brands of bottled water.”
“I’m thinking, once I get in, this place definitely is getting a visit from the health inspector. Fire, too.”
“This is what I mean,” Mancini said. “You can’t let yourself get tripped up by the small shit.”
“Look, she’s talking to the manager,” Finley said.
Seconds later, a balding, portly man in a black suit approached the table. “Mr. Finley, how nice to see you today.”
“Carmine. How are you?”
“Excellent. You’ll have to excuse Kimmy. She’s new, and she was unaware that she was looking after one of our most special customers. She’s getting some Finley Springs Water for your friend here as we speak.”
“Oh, Carmine, I don’t care, one way or the other. I’m not about to tell you how to run your restaurant.”
Carmine smiled. “If there’s anything you need, don’t hesitate to see me directly.”
Once he was gone, Finley said, “What do you want to bet someone’s running to 7-Eleven right now?”
“What’s this going to cost me?” Mancini said.
“We’ve already sorted out my compensation on this, Frank.”
“I’m talking incidentals. The greasing of palms.”
Finley shrugged. “Hard to say. Some people come cheaper than others. Some, if you’ve got the goods on them, it doesn’t cost you a dime. Start-up costs are always unpredictable.”
Mancini cut a piece off the end of his steak and put it into his mouth. “Did you ever do anything as a politician, back when you were mayor, that you did strictly for the people, because you thought it was the right thing to do?”
“The welfare of my constituents was and is always my first consideration, Frank, my guiding principle, as it were.”
“I like how you did that without even smiling.”
“It’s a gift,” Finley said.