So Trimble—excuse me, the scumbag con artist—had slipped up. He couldn’t force Trip and me to sell what our company didn’t own. Still, he tried.
“I’m sorry, boys,” he said, “I’m gonna need that land.”
“Good luck getting it,” Trip said.
“You signed a contract.”
“I must’ve missed that one. Paul, do you remember signing a contract with the rest of the partners? No? Neither do I.”
“Boys, I’m sorry it ended like this,” the scumbag said. “I really thought we had a bright future together.”
“Fuck you, asshole.” Trip stabbed the button and hung up.
So we kept the land but lost everything else. Even Pyrrhus wouldn’t have called it a victory.
* * *
“So… what’re we gonna do?” Christy asked.
We were sitting in Wren’s steakhouse, and Trip had just finished recounting the whole sordid tale. The details had been excruciating to relive, especially since we’d missed every single red flag. Worse, they were so obvious in hindsight. Trip blamed himself for most of it, but I knew better—I’d agreed with every decision we’d made.
He repeated Christy’s question, “What are we gonna do? I don’t know. As far as the company goes, we’re almost broke, we don’t have any new work, and we still have to make payroll.”
“But you and Paul are most of that, right?”
“Most, but not all. Still, that’s only half the expenses. We have rent, taxes, insurance, and everything else that keeps us afloat.”
“Oh.” She sighed but then had a thought. “You said taxes. Property taxes too?”
He nodded.
“So we’re going to keep the land?”
“That’s the one bright spot in this whole miserable adventure,” I said.
Trip nodded and picked up the story. “Seems that Trimble’s people—”
I cleared my throat. “I want to punch someone when I hear his name. Can we just call him Scumbag from now on?”
“Fine by me,” Trip said. “Anyway, Scumbag’s guys did the environmental impact study. I talked to a couple of people, and he’s pulled this con before.”
“What con?” Christy asked.
“He signs a contract to purchase land for the market price. Then they discover some kind of environmental problem.” He made air quotes. “Sorry, they ‘discover’ a problem, and Scumbag buys the land at a fraction of its previous value. A couple of months later, they ‘discover’ that the problem isn’t a problem after all. It’s basically fraud, but it’s almost impossible to prove.”
“That fucking asshole,” Wren said in a tone of wonder and outrage.
“Yep,” I agreed. “He’s also notorious around town for not paying his contractors and subs. We’d never worked with him, so we didn’t know.”
“Why isn’t he in prison?”
Trip shrugged. “Money and connections. Part of the good ol’ boy network. He plays it straight with them. He has to. They know his tricks. He only fleeces outsiders and minor-league players like us. And we were lambs to the slaughter.”
I chuckled to myself at how my mind worked—Trip mixed his metaphors, and that was just wrong. I shook it off and focused on important things instead.
“We only kept the land because we were lucky,” I said.
“Very,” Trip agreed.
“And it might be worth something after all?” Christy said.
“Yeah,” Trip said. “We don’t have our own report yet, but I suspect they won’t find any woodpeckers or anything else. The money problems are real enough, though. I mean, we’re still broke.”
“Can’t we just find more money?”
Trip laughed ruefully. “I wish it was that easy.”
“Then… how’re we going to live?”
“We have enough to live,” I told her. “And we have money in the bank. Not much, but enough. I mean, we didn’t put all our eggs in the same basket.”
“And we have some money coming in to the company,” Trip agreed. “We haven’t wrapped up some projects we started before Trim— Scumbag. They aren’t enough, though.”
“We could try to find more,” I said, but he shook his head.
“I think we burned a few bridges when we started turning away clients. And… to be honest, I don’t know if I want to keep doing what we’re doing.”
Wren touched his hand in support.
“I mean, I’m not a businessman. Yeah, I took some Business classes, but that’s it. I don’t have a degree or anything. And I think Scumbag showed that I don’t have what it takes to succeed in business.”
“You were doing fine,” I told him, and Wren silently agreed. Even Christy gave an enthusiastic nod. She was a little more chipper than I thought the situation deserved, but I wasn’t going to object.
“I guess,” Trip said gloomily, “but we were easy pickings for the first crook who came along. We could’ve just written a check for our life savings instead of going through… all that!”
“Why don’t you just learn more about business?” Christy said.
It was such a naïve question that I thought Trip would laugh. I certainly wanted to, but I didn’t know if I’d be able to stop.
“I know you think I’m crazy,” she continued, “but God has a plan for us.”
Trip laughed derisively. “God wanted us to get fleeced?”
“God wants us to grow and prosper.”
“Out of the mouths of babes.”
“I’m telling you, He has a plan,” she insisted. Then she quoted, “I know that Thou canst do all things, and that no purpose of Thine can be thwarted.” She let the words hang in the air. “That’s Job speaking, by the way, and he had a pretty rough time before he saw the truth. So I’m telling you, God wants us to move forward.”
“She’s right.” Wren and Christy shared a sideways look.
The attitude at the table had begun to change. We’d been gloomy before, but Christy lightened the mood for everyone.
“Okay, what is it?” I said. “The plan, I mean.”
She pursed her lips with a smile. “You know us so well.”
“I musta missed something,” Trip said. “What’s going on?”
“Our lovely wives have been conspiring behind our backs,” I said.
“‘Conspiring’ is such a harsh word,” Wren said.
“Semantics.”
She grinned, unrepentant. “Let’s say we’ve been… planning.”
“Then tell us.”
“Let’s order some after-dinner drinks,” she said. “And Christy needs some dessert. You’re still too thin, my love.”
“Can I have two?” she asked hopefully.
“It’s a restaurant!” Wren laughed. “They’ll keep bringing you food until we ask them to stop!”
“Oh. In that case, may I have some more mushrooms? They were yummy. And a side of haricots verts. Oh, and a piece of peanut butter pie!”
Wren couldn’t help but chuckle. “Anything else, my love?”
“Hold on,” I said in alarm. “You aren’t pregnant, are you?”
Christy’s brow knitted. “I don’t think so. Why?”
“Mushrooms, green beans, and peanut butter?” I said.
“Oh, that! No, I’m not pregnant. I’m just hungry. Starving, actually. That was a long story. And… um…” She glanced meaningfully at her empty wineglass.
“What would we do without you?” Wren chuckled.
“Have more food for ourselves,” Trip joked.
“You aren’t hurting,” she said with a pointed glance at his middle. He had the beginning of a paunch. “You could stand to spend some time with Paul at the gym.”
“Yes, dear.”
“I mean it,” she said. “You don’t think I’m doing Cindy Crawford just for me, do you?”
“When did you start doing Cindy Crawford?” he laughed. “And why haven’t you shared?”
She rolled her eyes. “I mean the workout tape.”