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I text Clay and Jimmy, requesting a meeting this afternoon.
Placing my phone on the bench, I exhale loudly. I rub the tension that has returned to my jaw. There will be no going back from this. But it'll be on my goddamn terms. With my power. My resources. My specific skill set. Jimmy isn't nearly as educated as he believes himself to be - not even close.
I'll no longer be just Butch's son.
I'll be an earner.
An associate.
I'll control the means of producing so much fucking profit for the Family, Jimmy will be accepting my goddamn cigar. I find myself smirking at the prospect.
When I stride into Jimmy's boardroom, Clay is leaning on the bar, a drink clasped in his hand. Standing beside him, Jimmy laughs - a throaty laugh that he only does when in the presence of his son-in-law. That cheerful intonation makes my jaw tic. It speaks of a bond that goes beyond Clay having married Aurora.
Jimmy isn't his fucking family.
Always the fucking professionals, both men are dressed in dark suits and ties. I've only ever seen Jimmy a handful of times in anything else. They turn to acknowledge me, smiling easily.
"Max." Jimmy walks towards me, arms wide. "Clay, get your brother a drink. We should celebrate his future arrival."
I force a smile and embrace him. "Whiskey," I say, giving Clay a nod of acknowledgment over Jimmy's shoulder.
Pouring me a shot, Clay says, "I will drink to that." He moves over to me and I wrap my arms around him. "We don't see enough of each other," he says into my ear.
I release him and accept the drink he presents me. "I agree."
My big brother is all business these days. I can't remember the last time I had a casual drink with him. At his wedding, perhaps. I wonder how often Jimmy sees him, but as soon as I do, I bury that thought. Along with the resentment attached.
We drink for a while by the bar, keeping things on the lighter side. But after fifteen minutes of small talk, the tic in my jaw tells me I've hit my quota for sharing and receiving bullshit. We move towards the boardroom table and sit.
I relax opposite Clay, while Jimmy positions himself on my right, at the head. I text my guy and then hear a knock vibrate through the door.
"Come in," I say before Jimmy can and it makes me want to smirk. My guy enters and passes me the documents, then leaves straight away. I slide one over to each of them.
Clay flips it over and then back again before flicking through to the last few pages - the summary pages. He begins to read as Jimmy opens the first page, skimming the text.
"What is this?" Jimmy asks, seemingly too impatient to read it.
Resting my elbows on the table, I clasp my hands together under my chin. "It's an introductory framework for a new commercial construction, design, and planning compliancy policy. Once complete, it will detail a new scheme implementing more city obligated approvals for high-value commercial projects or projects in dense areas or above a certain engineering margin. Basically put, all future construction projects under this scheme will undergo a string of design approvals, covenants, code checks. . . It's a bitch to navigate and interpret."
Jimmy raises a black brow at me. "And?"
I look at Clay, who is still skimming the summary, a subtle smirk pulling at his lips. "Next year, when Clay gets nominated as a councillor, he's going to introduce this new scheme and get it agreed to for a twenty-four-month trial. He'll bring me in as a contractor to help interpret the document and implement the changes. With this policy, the City Architect will have the final say on every new commercial construction in the District."
Clay clears his throat, closes the document, and leans his arms on the table. "Our city architect is fifty-nine. He won't like it."
I grin. "He'll fucking hate it, and it'll make him look due for retirement."
"And then?" Clay asks, tilting his head. The glimmer of satisfaction in his blue eyes and the sideways curve of his lips show me he knows exactly whatthen.
"And then you put my name forward for the position of City Architect after I've had time to win people over from the inside."
Clay looks at Jimmy, and they share a meaningful exchange. My brother taps the document with his finger and says, "How do I sell this new policy to the city?"
"It's a fucking elegant scheme," I state adamantly. Although it's all true, I hate having to convince others. I would much rather be running across a field than working in an office, but this is what it is. Business. A means to give Cassidy the fairy-tale. "On the surface, it focuses on space and environment. User experience and energy efficiency. It'll modernise the District. Innovate it. They'll lap it up. You won't need to sell it, brother."
Clay picks up his whiskey and, unlike our last meeting, he actually drinks it. "You can't work for the city with your current reputation. The papers will eat me alive."
Jimmy chuckles. "You'll need to actually smile at people on the street, my boy."
