“What style would you suggest, Dr. King?”
I clenched my jaw and resisted the urge to punch him in the face. After a moment I took another deep breath. Trip did the same and got his own temper back under control.
“Classic or modern?” I said at last.
“Modern. But nothing funky. I don’t want anything weird like… I dunno…” He searched for something that wasn’t likely to offend me. “That wavy thing Gehry’s building in Spain.”
“The Guggenheim? No problem. You aren’t gonna get that anyway.” I fell silent and let my mind wander. “How about Mid-century Modern? Something post and beam, with lots of glass?”
Trip nodded. “That could work. What’re you thinking?”
* * *
A couple of weeks later, Trip came into my office with his bottle of expensive paint stripper. He swung the door closed and began pouring.
“We have to stop meeting like this,” I said dryly.
He passed me the heavy crystal tumbler, settled into the chair, and inhaled the fumes of his own whiskey. Then he took a healthy sip and smacked his lips.
“So, I’ve been thinking…”
“Always dangerous.”
“Are you in a pissy mood?” he asked without heat.
“Not really. Sorry. Just being a jerk.” I’d been acting like he usually did, and I didn’t miss the irony when he shrugged it off, just like I would have.
“That’s cool,” he said. “Anyway, let’s catch up. I stopped by Darci’s office earlier, and I like what you’ve done with the house designs. Mid-century really works. Oh, and thanks for not going overboard. I mean, we don’t need a whole compound like y’all.”
“I didn’t go overboard. On ours, I mean.”
“How many houses d’you need?” he teased. Then he did a pretty good Tommy Lee Jones impression, “I want a hard target search of every main house, pool house, guest house, warehouse, and boathouse in the area.”
“We aren’t building the boathouse,” I said, a touch defensively. “We’re just running the utilities in case we want one later.”
“Yeah, but—”
“Besides, Christy works at home. And she needs more than just an office and a computer. The ‘warehouse’ is her workshop. The ‘guest house’ is her studio.” Evidently, I was still in the mood for a fight. Fortunately, Trip wasn’t looking for a real one.
“Yeah, I know,” he conceded. “I guess I’m being a jerk too. Sorry about that.”
Note to self, I thought, get back to the gym. Hit something that deserves it, not your business partner.
“The boathouse utilities are a good idea,” he continued. “Might want to do the same for us. In the meantime, we love the house. Wren took the watercolor you did to her office at work. You really hit it out of the park. As usual.”
“Thank you. Although… I’m guessing you didn’t come here just to tell me that.”
“No. Well, yes, but…” He drained his whiskey, sat forward, and poured another two fingers. I declined politely when he tilted the bottle toward me. “No problem,” he said, mellow already. “More for me.” Then he sat back and gathered his thoughts.
“Lemme guess,” I wondered aloud, “you’ve been looking at the work we need for the houses and you’ve figured out a way to get someone else to pay for it.”
He pursed his lips in a grin and rolled his hand for me to continue.
I did. “We’re going to need a ton of site work. Not just for the houses themselves, but all the infrastructure. The utility runs will cost a fortune, especially from the main road.”
“Yep.”
“So, you want to resurrect the whole development project.”
“Golf course, condos, retail, everything,” he agreed.
“And if we do that, the development will pay for the majority of the excavation and site prep. It’ll pay for the road, utilities, and everything else, right to our new doorsteps.”
“Great minds think alike.”
“Mmm. But… can we do it? Financially, I mean.”
“We’ll need investors…,” he ventured.
“And we don’t want another Scumbag.”
“No.”
“Speaking of which… Can he cause problems?”
“I’d like to see him try,” Trip scoffed. “We aren’t broke like last time. We have money to go to court.”
“Okay, but what about all the work we did? He could make the case that he owns it.”
“Any contract between us would be invalid. We never received consideration. That means he never paid us.”
I remembered all too well. And I still seethed about it if I let myself.
“He can try to make trouble,” Trip continued mildly, “but he knows we’ll fight. And we’ll probably win.” To his credit, he paused and considered the different angles. Then he shook his head. “Nah, I don’t think he’ll bother. Besides, I’ve heard he has money problems. Seems he’s a lousy businessman when he isn’t defrauding investors.”
“Couldn’t happen to a nicer guy,” I muttered.
“Whatever,” Trip said. “The best revenge is living well. So, let’s talk about our project, and especially investors. I wanted to make sure you’re up for it before I start looking.”
“Go for it.”
“Okay. I’ll put together a proposal. But let’s get started on the plans. Do you still have all your old drawings?”
“Yeah. They’re on backups at the house. We’ll probably have to update them for the new version of AutoCAD, but I’ll put Whitney on it.”
“You still don’t like the computer?” he chuckled.
“I don’t mind it, but I have other priorities.”
“I never understood that,” he said. “I mean, you’re the guy who’s always pushing for more tech—email, a website, upgrading our servers—but you still don’t like drawing on the computer. While Christy’s an actual artist, and about as scatterbrained as they come. No offense,” he added quickly, “but she uses a computer like one of those hackers.”
“It’s a language thing,” I said. “She has a talent for it. Anyway, moving along…”
“Yeah, whatever. You and Whitney can update the plans. Ask Bob to look at—”
“My department,” I said before he could tell me how to do my job.
“Yeah, sorry.”
“And if we’re serious about doing this,” I added, “we’ll need more people.”
“Yeah. Also your department. I’ll find a way to make the money work.” He paused and then grinned. “We’re gonna be rich, dude.”
* * *
Trip came into my office one day in September and closed the door. It was the middle of the afternoon, so it wasn’t time for our usual chat.
I held up a finger, and he sat patiently as I finished my changes and saved the file. Then I opened Whitney’s tracking spreadsheet and flagged the project. I checked the boxes for what I needed, a schedule of materials and an updated cost estimate. She actually enjoyed crunching the numbers, and I was happy to let her.
“One last thing,” I said to Trip. I brought up my schedule on the other monitor. “Whitney’ll kill me if I don’t show up where I’m s’posed to. I can reschedule if— Never mind, we’re good. I’m free for another hour. Sorry about that. What’s up?”
“How do you feel about selling part of the company?”
My eyebrows twitched upward.
“That was my reaction,” Trip agreed. “I should probably start at the beginning.”
“Please.”
“So, I just got off the phone with Susan. I’ve been in touch with her since we decided to move forward on the Lake Lanier development. At first I just wanted her advice, but I also had her on the short list for investors.”
“Of course.”
“I faxed her the budgets and projections we did with Trimble—”
“Scumbag,” I said automatically.
Trip rolled his eyes and continued, “I sent her the numbers we did last time. She spotted red flags immediately.”
“She would,” I said. “She has way more experience. But she also knows what happened. She has the benefit of hindsight.”