Turn Over(132)

I rose to leave, worried I would trip over the tight space before getting out the door.

“Hey, what was the story you had for me?” she asked.

“Oh, nothing. It was an idea on the environmentalists. Not a very good idea anyway.”

I closed the door behind me. It might have been the one thing that stuck from my conversation with Mason. The only thing. He told me not to show all my cards too quickly. I still had one card and only a few hours to figure out how to use it.



I stared at my laptop. The screen displayed the words “no search results found”, and I thought I might be sick. There were no reporter positions posted within a sixty-mile radius. I paced around the studio, bouncing from the bed to the bathroom and back again.

I thought of ten things to do, and five minutes later couldn’t think of a single thing to do. Alice was meeting with HR to determine whether I could keep my job. Mason told me he had conference calls all day and wouldn’t be able to see me until late tonight. I couldn’t call him. I wondered if he would be disappointed in how I handled the entire meeting.

If I lost my job I didn’t know what I’d do. I had a bit of savings stashed away, but it wasn’t enough to stay in South Padre indefinitely. With summer winding down, most of the seasonal jobs were drying up. I wouldn’t even be able to get a position waiting tables.

I threw myself back on the bed. I couldn’t leave. I had just found him. I had just discovered how much fun the island could be. I had my first friend here. I groaned.

I was still holding the story hostage, although I didn’t know why. My time had to be running out. The local paper would have someone scouting the City Hall records, and it was only a matter of time before a reporter discovered Mason had purchased the lot and was processing permits for trailer hookups.

I walked back and forth in front of the bed. Mason wanted me to be able to separate my emotions from work. I closed my eyes to see if it was even possible. The problem was with my eyes closed all I could see was him. Ugh. Bad start, Sydney.

If he were dealing with this crisis, what would he do? How would he negotiate his job back?

I flipped the screen open on my laptop and typed in the search engine.





19





Mason





“Mark, I want the three Austin properties sold by the end of the quarter.”

“Yes, sir. I have them listed with Barbara.”

“Good.” I looked at what else I had on my checklist. If I could make it through the next two calls, I might be able to call Sydney for dinner plans. “And I’ve decided to hold the commercial space in Houston. It’s not the best time to sell, and the rents there are high enough. Take it off the list.”

“Got it.”

“I’ll be in the office Thursday. I’ll drive up in the morning, or fly depending on what kind of time I have.”

It was an eight-hour drive. I usually got on the road at five in the morning to make it into the office by one.

I could hear the excitement in the voice. “We’ll be happy to have you around.”

“It’s been a while. All right. We’ll talk tomorrow.” I looked at my watch. I had five minutes before the call with the attorney. Make that four.

My phone beeped. They were calling in early.

“Harold, good to hear from you. Tell me what you have on the environmentalists.”

After speaking with the attorneys I knew the resort was in good hands. As much as the Guardians of the Dunes wanted to cause trouble, they didn’t have a legal case against the development. There were no endangered species present, and we would have to follow the same building codes that all island construction did. It appeared they weren’t the threat Commissioner Rodriguez had promised.

My biggest issue with the group was going to be the attention they were getting. I hated to start a new project with bad press, but hopefully by the end the residents would be so excited about the resort and the new jobs they wouldn’t give a damn about the months they had to put up with high-pollution dump trucks.

It was close to six. One more call, and I could end Monday. At least the working part.

I waited while the operator set up the conference call and the investors dialed in one at a time. There was always someone late to the table. This time it was Keith Higgins.

“Keith, ready to talk money?” I joked. The man didn’t have a funny bone in his body.

“That you Lachlan?” he asked.

“Sure is. What do you say we flip to page five of the preliminaries so we can come up with a number that will work for all of us?”

I directed the call, walking them through the projections my team had put together for us. I was venturing into a small oil and gas company. It was less risky if I partnered with a few others for the first time. Once I had a handle on the business I would either buy them out or move onto my next acquisition on my own.